[Nextobjects-user] all of the girls ha

[Palencia <fi...@la...>]

 Well, perhaps some day in ways she could not now imagine, she might be
able to return a small measure of the service that her friends had been
so generously bestowing upon her. "Pursue Knowledge, Be Trustworthy." No
misfortune need separate a girl from these ideals. "Hold on to Health."
This might mean a harder fight than she had ever yet had to make before,
but Betty felt a new courage faintly struggling within her. "Glorify
Work." That was not an impossible demand of her as a Torch Bearer among
her group of Camp Fire girls. It was the last of the seven points of
their great law that she dreaded to face at this moment, here in the
darkness alone. "Be Happy." Could she ever again be happy even for a day
or an hour? And yet the law said: "If we have pain, to hide it, if
others have sorrow, be quick to relieve it." But what the rest of the
law read she could not now recall. For Herr Crippen was beginning to
play one of the most exquisite pieces of music that can ever be rendered
on the violin, Schubert's Serenade. "Last night the nightingale woke me,
Last night when all was still It sang in the golden moonlight" Betty
wondered why the music should sound so strangely far away, as though she
were dreaming and it were coming to her somewhere out of the land of
dreams. Another moment and Betty was sound asleep. Nevertheless the
Professor, with his eyes still upon her, played softly on, played until
Mrs. Ashton noiselessly entered the room. Then he ceased and the man and
woman, standing one on either side of Betty's bed, looked at each other
with expressions it would be difficult to translate. For each face held
a certain amount of pleading and of defiance. "She is like her mother;
_nicht wahr_?" the Professor murmured, and then withdrew. Afterwards for
several moments Mrs. Ashton's eyes never ceased regarding the curls of
Betty's red brown hair, that lay outside on her pillow. Her long braids
had been cut off and latterly she had been wearing a little blue silk
cap, which had now slipped