“Her name is Bengal Virden,” replied Miss Judith.

“Bengal?” repeated Sahwah.  “What an odd name.  I suppose she was born in Bengal?”

“Yes, she was born there,” replied Miss Judith.  “She is a rather odd child,” she continued, “but an all round good sport.  Her mother died when she was small and she was brought up by her father until she was old enough to be sent to America, and since then she has divided her time between boarding schools and summer camps.  She has a very affectionate nature, and gets tremendous crushes on the people she likes.  Last summer it was Pom-pom, and she nearly wore her out with her adoration, although Pom-pom likes that sort of thing.”

“Who is Pom-pom?” asked Agony curiously.  “I have heard her name mentioned so many times.”

“Pom-pom is our dancing teacher,” replied Miss Judith.  “She is the pretty councilor over there at the lower end of mother’s table.  All the girls get violent crushes on her,” she continued, looking the Winnebagos over with a quizzical eye, as if to say that it would only be a short time before they, too, would be lying at Pom-pom’s feet, another band of adoring slaves.  Without knowing why, Agony suddenly felt unaccountably foolish under Miss Judith’s keen glance, and taking her eyes from Pom-pom, she let them rove leisurely over the long line of girls at her own table.

“Who is the girl sitting third from the end on this side?” she asked, indicating the heavy-jawed individual who had made the impolite remark on the boat about Hinpoha, and who had just now pushed back her pudding dish with an emphatic movement after tasting one spoonful, and had turned to her neighbor with a remark which made the one addressed glance uncomfortably toward the councilor who was serving that section.

Miss Judith followed Agony’s glance.  “That,” she replied in a non-committal tone, “is Jane Pratt.  Will anyone have any more pudding?”

The pudding was delicious—­chocolate with custard sauce—­and Miss Judith was immediately busy refilling a half dozen dishes all proffered her at once.  Agony made a mental note that Miss Judith had made no comment whatever upon Jane Pratt, although she had evidently been in camp the year before, and she drew her own conclusions about Jane’s popularity.

“Who is Mary Sylvester?” Agony asked presently.

“Mary Sylvester,” repeated Miss Judith in a tone which caught the attention of all the Winnebagos, it was so full of affection.  “Mary Sylvester is the salt of the earth,” Miss Judith continued warmly.  “She’s the brightest, loveliest, most kind-hearted girl I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a good many.  She can’t help being popular; she’s as jolly as she is pretty, and as unassuming as she is talented.  For an all around good camper ’we will never see her equal, though we search the whole world through,’ as the camp song runs.”

Agony looked over to where Mary Sylvester sat, the center of an animated group, and yearned with all her heart to be so prominent and so much noticed.