of complexion, of every
age between sixteen and twenty. A number were apparently "old girls,"
who had been at Camp Keewaydin in former years; they flocked together in
the bow right behind the Winnebagos, chattering animatedly, singing
snatches of camp songs, and uttering conjectures in regard to such
things as whether they would be in the Alley or the Avenue; and who was
going to be councilor in All Saints this year.

A number of these old girls were grouped in an adoring attitude around a
pretty young woman who talked constantly in an animated tone, and at
intervals strummed on a ukulele. Continual cries of "Pom-pom!" rose on
the air from the circle surrounding her. It was "_Dear_ Pom-pom,"
"Pom-pom, you angel," "O _darling_ Pom-pom! Can't you fix it so that I
can be in your tent this year?" and much more in the same strain.

"Pom-pom is holding her court again this year, I see," said a biting
voice just behind Agony.

Agony maneuvered herself around on her perch and glanced down at the
speaker. She was a decidedly plain girl with a thick nose and a wide
mouth set in a grim line above an extraordinarily heavy chin. Her face
was turned partly away as she spoke to the girl next to her, but Agony
caught a glimpse of the sarcastic expression which informed her
features, and a little chill of dislike went through her. Agony was
extremely susceptible to first impressions of people.

The girl addressed made an inaudible reply and the first girl continued
in low but emphatic tones, "Well, you won't catch me fetching and
carrying for her and playing the part of the adoring slave, I can tell
you. I think it's perfectly silly, the way the girls all get a crush on
her."

There was a pause, and then the other girl asked, somewhat hastily, "Who
do you suppose will get the Buffalo Robe this year?"

"Oh, Mary Sylvester will, of course," came the reply. "She nearly got it
last year. Now that Peggy Atterbury isn't coming back Mary'll be the
most popular girl in camp without a doubt. Look at her over there,
trying to be sweet to Pom-pom."

"Isn't she stunning in that coral silk sweater?" murmured the other
girl.

"She has too much color to wear that shade of pink," returned the
sarcastic one.

Agony's eyes traveled over to the group surrounding Pom-pom and rested
upon the girl who, next to Pom-pom herself, was the center of the group.
She was very much like Agony herself, with intensely black hair, snow
white forehead and ric