Now this meeting was the time when the bead-band diaries were to be finished, and the most interesting looking one was to be interpreted if the girl was willing to do so.  What tales were worked out in the bands belonging to Migwan, Hinpoha, Sahwah, Gladys and Nyoda!  Nyoda hesitated a long time trying to decide which looked the most interesting, Hinpoha’s or Migwan’s, and finally decided on Migwan’s.  Nothing loth, Migwan told the story of her hard time during the winter, and the girls in the circle and the visitors alike were stirred by the account of the party dress and the family budget and the returned manuscripts and the vanishing college fund.

“There is one incident not yet recorded,” she said, as she came to the end of the figures on the band, “and I really think this ought to be told with the rest.”  From the beaded pocket of her ceremonial gown she drew the letter which she had read while the girls were dressing.  It was from Mrs. Bartlett, the mother of little Raymond, and read as follows: 

“To say I was touched to the heart by your story of where the college money went, is putting it mildly.  If any one ever put up a brave fight against circumstances, you have.  I showed the letter to my husband and he was as much affected as I. And, curiously enough, a letter which we had received earlier in the day, and which had caused us much vexation, contained news of a certain state of affairs which is going to give us a chance to help you out of your difficulty.

“We own a small farm just outside of Cleveland, and for years this has been worked for us by a man and his wife.  Just this week this man is leaving our employ to take up some other line of work, leaving the farm without a caretaker at a critical time when the spring vegetables are all up and need attention.  Now, our proposition is this:  believing that as a Camp Fire Girl you know a great deal about growing things, we are going to ask you to take charge of the place for the summer, and will gladly allow you whatever profit you may make from the sale of vegetables and small fruits if you will see that the peach crop is brought through in good shape and keep the trees from being destroyed by bugs.  We will attend to the marketing of the peaches ourselves when the time comes.  Good luck to you if you want to undertake the job.

“Your loving friend,

“MABEL E. BARTLETT.”

“P.S.  We have no objection if you wish to use the house for a Camp Fire Club House during the summer.”

A rousing cheer burst from the group around the fire when they heard this solution of Migwan’s problem.

By this time the full moon was climbing over the top of the hill and waking up the sleeping daisies, and the little company rose reluctantly and wandered back to the automobiles that stood by the roadside.  Looking back at the peaceful hillside they had just left, it seemed that the nodding daisies and the murmuring brook and the rustling grasses all echoed the song the girls had sung around the fire just before the Council came to a close: