Agony rushed up to the Winnebagos after Craft Hour, radiant with pride and happiness.  “Miss Amesbury invited me up to her balcony,” she announced, trying hard to speak casually, “and she lent me one of her own books to read, and she helped me work out the design for my paddle.  She’s the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met.  She wants me to come again often, she says, and she invited me to go walking with her in the woods this afternoon to get some balsam.”

“O Agony, how splendid!” cried Migwan, with a hint of wistfulness in her voice.  Migwan did not envy Agony her sudden popularity with the campers one bit; that was her just due after the splendid deed she had performed; but where Miss Amesbury was concerned Migwan could not help feeling a few pangs of jealousy.  She admired Miss Amesbury with all the passion that was in her, looking up to her as one of the nameless, insignificant stars of heaven might look up to the Evening Star; she prayed that Miss Amesbury might single her out for intimate friendship such as was enjoyed by Mary Sylvester and some of the other older girls.  Migwan never breathed this desire to anyone, but if Miss Amesbury had only known it, a certain pair of soft brown eyes rested eagerly upon her all through Morning Sing, as she sat at the piano playing hymns and choruses, even as they were fixed upon her during meals and other assemblies.  And now the thing that Migwan coveted so much had come to Agony, and Agony basked in the light of Miss Amesbury’s twinkling smile and enjoyed all the privileges of friendship which Migwan would have given her right hand to possess.  But, being Migwan, she bravely brushed aside her momentary feeling of envy, told herself sternly that if she was worth it Miss Amesbury would notice her sooner or later, and cheerfully lent Agony her best pencil to transfer the new paddle design with.

“Supper on the water tonight!” announced Miss Judy, going the rounds late in the afternoon.  “Everybody go down on the dock when the supper bugle blows, instead of coming into the dining room.”

There was a mad rush for canoe partners, and a hasty gathering together of guitars and mandolins, which would certainly be in demand for the evening sing-out which would follow supper.  Agony, being in an exalted mood, had an inspiration, which she confided to Gladys in a whisper, and Gladys, nodding, moved off in the direction of the Bungalow and paid a visit to her trunk up in the loft, after which she and Agony disappeared into the woods.

The river was bathed in living fire from the rays of the setting sun when the little fleet of boats pushed out from the shore and began circling around the floating dock where Miss Judy and Tiny Armstrong, with the help of three or four other councilors, were passing out plates of salad, sandwiches and cups of milk.  Having received their supplies, the canoes backed away and went moving up or down the river as the paddlers desired, sometimes two or three canoes close together, sometimes one alone, but all, whether alone or in groups, filling the occupants of the launch with desperate envy.  A dozen or more girls these were, still in the Minnow class, still denied the privilege of going out in a canoe because they had not yet passed the swimming test.