Camp Ken-jockety

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THE “JUDY” BOOKS

By Ethel Hume Bennett

Chapter I Introduces The Heroine

“Mrs. AsHTon will be disappointed if you don’t come, Jerry. She considers you one of her lions for to-night,” said a clear voice at the door, and Colonel Hamilton, looking up from his letters, saw his cousin obviously ready to leave.

“Then I must certainly go and roar gently,” said the Colonel, smiling. “‘Old friends like Mrs. Ashton must not be disappointed, but I have important things to attend to first of all. Tl join you a little later. Shall I ring for Hodgins?”

“No, thank you. He was to be here at a quarter to nine. Joy is bringing me my fan. You won’t change your mind about Joy, Jerry?”

And then, as the Colonel shook his head and was about to speak, she continued with a sudden irritation:

**I don’t know what else you want for her, I’m sure. She can have good sea air, and bathing, and golf, if she wants it — though I must say the child is strangely indifferent about playing! But then almost anything seems to bore her. We are within reach of town, at all events, and the Turners will be there. This Canadian camp — what’s its name? — Ken-jockety ? — sounds absolutely uncivilized! Oh, I know, “back to nature,’ ‘the simple life,’ and all that sort of thing; but Joyce isn’t used to roughing it. She’ll hate it, and she'll be furious if this Mrs. Davidson tries to manage her. And perhaps you'll find out, Jerry Hamilton, that it isn’t as easy to deal with young people as it used to be. Now, Joyce — but you'll see for yourself.”

“What will he see?” cried a gay young voice as a girl came quickly into the library. “Your new opera cloak? Um-um! Fanchot turned you out pretty well this time, Cousin Edith. Her lines are better than Marie’s; the black velvet is just right — yes — I do like the jade lining: you might tell her to make me a frock that shade next time you’re down. I need a couple more, and I suppose I shall always have to wear green as long as there is a tint of bronze in my hair. We call it bronze, Daddy Jerry. Please take notice! Au revoir, Cousin Edith. Have you got a clean hanky? Don’t forget to say you had a nice time.”’

Miss Hamilton shook her handsome head reprovingly at this pertness, glanced at her watch, reminded the Colonel again of his promise, and was gone.

Joyce threw herself into one of the big library chairs and yawned.

“I wish to goodness Chang wouldn’t give us such ridiculously small cups of coffee: a thimbleful’s no sort of a pick-me-up at all. Did you want me, Dad? I expect Piggy any minute.”

“Of course, I want you, I always do,” was the quick answer. “I especially want you this evening. Didn’t I make that clear?”

Joyce opened her lovely gray eyes rather | widely.

“Oh! I thought you just had something to say to me. Piggy *phoned this afternoon and wanted me to race with him: he and Crook Johnston have a bet on — I don’t know exactly about the race, but it'll be speedy all right. Piggy killed three hens and a little dog last night, but he didn’t lose a second.”

A CAMP KEN-JOCKETY

The Colonel took the chair opposite his daughter and said rather grimly. ,

“And who, may I ask, is Piggy?”

“Piggy? Oh, Piggy Turner. His mother and Cousin Edith are great pals; they play golf all day at the Bay, and bridge all night, and Piggy and I root around.”’

“Root?” said the Colonel. “Ah, yes! Piggy. I see. It must be a handicap to have a name like that.”” His eyes twinkled. ‘He roots, and hoots, too, I take it. When does he propose to descend upon us?”

‘“‘Any minute now,” said Joyce. “‘I almost wish I’d said ‘no’ for to-night. I can’t think why I’m so sleepy!”

“Then I will say ‘no’ for you. Travers” (this to the maid who was taking away the tray), ““when Mr. Turner calls, please say that Miss Hamilton is unable to go out to-night.”

“IT think that ‘unable’ is rather neat,” he commented, turning again to Joyce, “for since you had made a previous engagement with me —”’

Joyce’s eyebrows drew together in a quick frown — she seemed to be about to make some objection, then relaxed again and said - indifferently:

“Oh, well! I’m sure I don’t care. I used to be awfully keen on racing.”

“Used to be?” said her father. “And what are you ‘awfully keen on’ now?”

Joyce repressed another yawn, not quite successfully.

** Awfully keen on dee? she repeated wonderingly. “It isn’t Christmas, nor my birth-_ day. Do you want to buy me a present to make up for going away again just as soon as you come home from France? No? Seriously? Well — well —I don’t know —I was crazy about dancing last year, but it’s a bore now. You might get me another mount if you really want to give me a present — of course, Bijou is pretty fair yet. P’'d want a winner, and that would cost a lot. Don’t bother — riding’s rather a bore.”

“T hadn’t thought of it just that way,” said her father thoughtfully. “But I have a gift for you — a gift that money could not buy — not any amount of money.”

He sat absorbed in thought a moment or two, and then, to Joyce’s disappointment, changed the subject.

“I’m sorry to have to go overseas again, honey, sorrier than you know, but those poor people will starve unless the railroads are put into some sort of shape, and as I’ve had the necessary experience and am free to g0 — that’s all there is to it.”

Joyce gave a sudden little cry of delight. She was sitting up straight now; there was a lovely rose color in her cheeks and her eyes were sparkling.

“Daddy Jerry!’’ she exclaimed. “I’ve had the loveliest idea! I know now what [’m awiully keen to do — why didn’t I think of it before? Well, I was a silly.”

She got up and shook her head reprovingly at her own reflection in the mirror beside the fireplace.

The Colonel looked at her tenderly. How beautiful the child had grown! But what was this she was saying?

““—hbig silly not to think before — of course, you can go with Daddy Jerry to Paris and stay with the Freers and the Ogdens and have a ripping time there until the old railroads are fixed.”

She brushed a butterfly kiss on her father’s forehead, and began to pirouette about the big library, sleepiness and fatigue banished as if by magic.

“What a good thing the Freers invited me before they went; I can week-end with the Ogdens at the sea. And the boulevards and the shops! Well, that’s that. I can’t imagine why _I didn’t think of it before. The very thought . of Fisherman’s Bay bored me to tears.”

She was back in the big chair smiling confidently at her father. The answering smile in Colonel Hamilton’s eyes was fond and proud, but his lips were set in the firm straight line which the men of his regiment could have told Joyce meant business.

“Tt sounds like a very nice plan except for one important detail,” he said, rather slowly. **I shall not be in Paris all summer, and from what I know of the Freers I certainly should not wish you to spend the summer with them, nor yet with the Ogdens.”

“They’re really all right, Dad,” said Joyce carelessly, as if contemplating no real opposition to her plan. “You've been away so long you can hardly know the family now; Jane Freer is at school with me, and Ted is quite passable.”

“Is Jane a friend of yours?” he asked. “I mean a real pal? I don’t seem to remember her name in your letters.”

“Jane?” said Joyce vaguely. “Oh, no, not more than the others — she’s a good sort, of course.”

““Who is your special friend?’’ asked the Colonel, emphasizing the last word unmistakably.

“Well-ll,” said Joyce slowly, “I don’t know — I know heaps of people, of course — there’s the crowd at school—and at the country club —and at the sea. Eve Hinkley will always run me about if Cousin Edith can’t let me have a motor, and Piggy isn’t a bad sort.”

Joyce’s tone was puzzled and a little bit annoyed.

“Just so,” said her father. “‘And now to pleasanter themes. You don’t seem to be curious about that gift I spoke of. You remember the Davidsons, of Toronto, of course. I used always to make a flying trip once a year to visit them, but I haven’t seen them since Michael was killed at Vimy.” His voice broke into a huskiness he could not quite control, and he paused a moment. “‘Some day, honey, you ll have a friend, please God, a real pal such as Michael was to me, one whom you trust and who would trust you, were the whole world against you —”’

Joyce was on the arm of his big chair now, and she flung her arms impulsively around his neck.

“I was so sorry, Daddy,”’ she said in a low voice. “I knew you would grieve.”’

“Grieve?” said the Colonel. ‘“‘Yes, but there’s joy too, much joy. * Member Shakespeare’s sonnet, Joyce — ‘When, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes’? No? Don’t they give you Shakespeare to read at school nowadays?”

Joyce shook her head. (““Shakespeare?”’ she thought. “Oh, yes, the ‘Merchant of Venice’ man. How quaint of Daddy!’’)

**Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee; and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate: For thy sweet love rememb’red such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.’ —

That’s what thoughts of Michael bring me. *Haply I think on thee.’”

Almost involuntarily Colonel Hamilton’s hand went to an inner pocket and brought out a tiny folded morocco case. In it were three little pictures: one of a bride, exquisitely lovely in her veil and orange blossoms; one of a beautiful youth, a Sir Galahad he seemed, “sans peur et sans reproche”’; and one of a tiny, curly-headed, white-frocked girl whose piquant grace gave promise of the beauty flowering now in the slim young thing bending over the photographs.

The Colonel placed them in a row along the sleeve of his dinner-jacket.

“IT used to prop them that way, along the splints,” he said. ‘“‘They made everything worth while. ‘Haply I think on thee’ — too bad you don’t know your Will Shakespeare, Joyce, we'll have to make his acquaintance together.”

There was silence for a moment, and then the Colonel brought himself back with an effort to the business in hand.

**Michael’s sister, Mrs. Davidson, spends her summers on an island at Wahnanee Bay, on the Georgian Bay; her husband, Graeme Davidson, is a professor at the University of Toronto, and there are four children: Drew, who is a fine upstanding lad with Michael’s eyes; Christine, who must be about your age; Dicky and Peggy, who were engaging tots the last time I was there.”

Joyce made as if to speak, but the Colonel went on: “Mrs. Davidson wrote — at least, telegraphed to me, when she knew I was returning to France, an invitation for you to spend the summer with them. I felt as if some one had made me heir to a gold mine when I got that bit of yellow paper. Gold mine! That’s a tiny word. Joy, she’s — she’s a real Person. I envy you. She’s made a home — the real article —I don’t seem to be able to get away from that word ‘real.’ There isn’t anything in the world I’d sooner do than pack a bag, take the night train for Toronto, and then go up with the Davidsons to Ken-jockety. You don’t know what fresh air 7s, honey, till you draw in big breaths of that water-washed, ozone-filled Georgian Bay air! _ And the canoeing, and the sailing, and the fishing!”’

Joyce had slipped back to her own chair. She smiled, politely, at her father’s enthusiasm.

“It sounds attractive,” she said, “‘though I never could understand what people saw in living all hugger-mugger in a tent or camp, but I dare say it would be fun to go for a short time, if I were not going to Paris.”

There was a hint of decision and firmness in the last words.

*Tt’s a stroke of luck, oh, the very best and most glorious sort of luck, that you can go to Wahnanee,. since you are not going to Paris.”

There was no lack of decision in the Colonel’s voice.

Joyce rose and faced her father.

“But I don’t want to go to visit the Davidsons, and I do want to go to Paris.”’

“There are considerations that weigh more than ‘don’t want to,’ my dear,” said Colonel Hamilton. “I’ve thought the matter over very carefully; you can’t be expected at sixteen to be as wise as your old Dad, who has been knocking about the world for years and years picking up all sorts of wisdom; the sort of life you would lead at Paris with the Freers, or at Boulogne with the Ogdens, or at Fisherman’s Bay with Cousin Edith, isn’t the best that I can give you, and I’m glad and grateful that I can offer you a ‘best.’”’

“You just refuse?” said Joyce, in amazement and anger drawing her brows together in a threatening line.

“Yes,” said the Colonel. ‘‘I do — absolutely.”’

Joyce’s eyes blazed; no one now would say they were gray eyes; there was a fury in them that made one think of flashes of fire; her beautiful face was distorted.

“I won’t go!” she cried. “I won’t! I will go to Paris — Pll —”’

“Steady, steady,” said the Colonel’s voice. “Don’t be childish, Joyce; surely you’ve conquered the tempers of nursery days.”’

The pain in his eyes and voice was unnoticed by Joyce.

“Childish!” she stormed. “‘Childish! You can command me if you like, but you’re not going to treat me like one of your soldiers, even if you are my father. I don’t want to go and I won’t! How dare —”

*That’s enough, Joyce,” said her father in a voice she had never heard. “‘Go to your room. I shall speak to you later.” _

Surprised into obedience, Joyce turned and walked proudly out of the library without so much as looking at her father, but, as she crossed the hall, she was directly in front of a large old-fashioned mirror which hung opposite the library door, and there sat her father as if he were a couple of feet away. He still held the little photographs in his hand, but his eyes, which had looked so proudly from the pictured loveliness to the beautiful young daughter before him, were covered now with one hand, as if he could not bear to be reminded of the face he had just seen. It was the hand with the long red scar.

Joyce stopped: the anger cleared from her eyes as there leaped to her remembrance the days following Sanctuary Wood, when she and Cousin Edith had waited and longed for more word from doctors and nurses. How could she have forgotten! And here was Daddy Jerry — her old playmate and pal — Daddy Jerry for whom she had been looking all these years. And she had wounded him.

Like mist disappearing before the sun, her anger was gone, and she was back on her father’s chair, her arms tight around his neck, her lips to the scar.

“T’m sorry, Daddy,” she murmured, “awfully sorry, dreadfully sorry. I don’t know how I could! Of course, I'll go to Canada if you want me to. Say that you love me just a little. Your voice hurt me.”

An hour later, Colonel Hamilton and his daughter were still talking. Joyce’s eyes were shining again like pools of cool gray water lit by twin stars.

“Do you have to go to Mrs. Ashton’s? Wait just a minute; you haven’t told me much about Christine yet. She’s going to matter far more than Professor and Mrs. Davidson.”

Chapter II Introduces Ken-jockety

“I HOPE they won't be late,” said Colonel Hamilton, looking at his watch for the third time in the last five minutes. “Ah! here they come now.”

The Colonel’s pleasure and interest had communicated itself to Joyce, and she hurried after him down the platform. When she saw him stop and greet a lady with several children, she almost closed her eyes for a moment before taking the first real look. Supposing they were what she and Cousin Edith had been wont to designate “‘Impossible’”’!

The tall lady turned as Joyce approached, and instantly that critical young person’s fears were gone. No one could apply the terrible word “impossible” to Mrs. Davidson.

**Distinguished-looking,” thought Joyce as she answered Mrs. Davidson’s greetings; “and nice eyes and voice — a beautiful voice.”

Mrs. Davidson introduced Christine, fair and blue-eyed like her mother, and Peggy, a longlegged, brown-eyed eight-year-old. Dicky, she explained, was seeing the baggageman about the transfer of a piece of luggage which had not been checked through the night before.

“Dicky?” said Colonel Hamilton, looking puzzled. “I thought Andrew was the elder boy.”

**So he is,’ answered Mrs. Davidson, smiling. “Drew and his father went up to camp a week ago to finish some building operations they had on hand, and Richard is our escort. Oh, no, please don’t help him,” interpreting the Colonel’s hasty movement. ‘He can manage perfectly, I’m sure; there he comes now, as a small boy rushed down the platform. Dicky shook hands, and then looked eagerly and inquiringly at his mother.

“Dicky was very much disappointed that you and Joyce were not able to spend last night with us, and I promised to ask you if he might ask you two or three questions about your flying experiences in France.”

“As many as he likes,’ was the prompt reply.

“Oh, please, no.” Mrs. Davidson put up a protesting hand. “I have several questions, myself. Just a couple of minutes, Dicky; we mustn’t tax the Colonel’s patience.”

Dicky drew a long breath, and began at once: ‘‘ Were you ever upside down while you were up in a flying-machine? What did it feel like? How many did you shoot? How many guns did your machine carry? How —?”

Meanwhile Joyce and Christine were taking stock of each other.

*“Um-m — yes — nice —” Joyce was thinking, making use again of that long-suffering word. “Yes, very nice,’ as Christine suddenly smiled a delicious smile which involved dimples in her cheeks, wrinkles on her nose, and crinkles at the corners of her mouth.

“Goody,” Christine was saying to herself. *She’s perfectly lovely to look at —I adore auburn hair — I’m sure she must be a dear — I’m going to love her.”’

Aloud she said politely, if conventionally, **I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

“Very,” said Joyce, just as_ politely. “Daddy had to see a friend of his in Buffalo on some business matter, so we managed to steal a couple of hours for the Falls, and got in here too late last night to do anything but go straight to the hotel.”

*Aren’t you just in love with Niagara?” asked Christine. “I’m longing to see the Falls again. I haven’t been for nearly two years now. I wonder if they will seem as tremendous as they did last time. And I’m crazy to get back to Ken-jockety — that’s the name of our camp — it means ‘far from the madding crowd’ — don’t you think it sounds jolly? And now it’s going to be jollier than ever — having you, I mean. We were in England last summer, and it was lovely, of course — but not a bit like Georgian Bay. Have you ever been up the lakes before? Aren’t you awfully excited about it? I do wish the train were made up so we could get settled. Have you —? All right, Mummy, I won’t talk so much. You see, Joyce, I talk an awful lot—I mean a great deal — but one can’t help being frightfully excited the first day of going to camp.”’

Christine might be garrulous, thought Joyce, but there was no resisting the sunny friendliness of her smile, and the two girls were soon chatting happily as if they had known each other for months instead of minutes.

Dicky, who had been talking to the conductor, interrupted them to say, with an air of dignity and responsibility that was oddly at variance with his freckled face and impudent little nose, ““You’d better get in now, girls;

that’s the train on track five; the conductor’s going to call, ‘All aboard,’ right away, and then everybody will be rushing for seats.”

“Girls!”” thought Joyce in amusement. ** How old can he be? — nine or ten, I expect.”

Colonel Hamilton and Mrs. Davidson were already moving in the direction of track five, but were evidently still absorbed in their lowtoned conversation.

Christine and the children got into the train first. Joyce was told to wait outside until the Colonel had settled Mrs. Davidson comfortably, and then he would rejoin her for a last few minutes.

Joyce could see that her father was happy when he came back.

“Joy, dear,” he said, “you can’t realize yet just how lucky you are to have the chance to be with the Davidsons this summer. But I’m glad for you, now — and you will be, later. I’ve told Mrs. Davidson that Ill send up a canoe for your use — it won’t take you long to learn to handle one — and, as for the sailing, she says that her husband and Drew will gladly teach you, and then — we'll see what well see. Good-bye, my dear, I am leaving you in good hands.”

Joyce waved to him smilingly as the train moved off. Dear Daddy Jerry! What a king he looked among the other men on the platform! But when she turned to rejoin the Davidsons, the smile was gone. ‘Two months with people she had never seen before! She frowned, then gave herself a little shake. **Remember,” she told herself as she took her place beside Christine, who was still talking continuously, “‘this is to be an adventure, and, so far, the compagnons de voyage look interesting.”

Mrs. Davidson gave her a friendly smile, asked if she had something interesting to read, and then buried herself in the morning paper.

Dicky and Peggy, who each had been supplied with a book for the journey, also began to read at once, and Christine’s head was bent over a little piece of paper on which she was figuring.

Joyce looked idly out of the window as the train left the unlovely city environs behind.

“Why are the outskirts of cities always so ugly?” she thought. “‘ The lake zs beautiful — almost like our own sea — but not so much green in the water. I wonder what Eve Hinkley and Piggy are doing? They must just have arrived at the Bay. I wish Id seen Piggy’s new car.”

It was some days before Joyce had time to think of them again.

*‘Sixty-nine cents,’ Christine was murmuring absorbedly. “Seven dollars and sixty-nine cents; it can’t be right. Now what did I pay for butter? The lettuce was twenty-five —”’

She looked up and caught Joyce’s eye.

“T’ll be through with this in a minute,” she announced; “at least, I hope I shall. It’s awfully important to start right, isn’t it?”

She figured industriously a few moments, frowned anxiously, consulted the change in her purse, and sucked her pencil thoughtfully.

“Did you remember the nickel I borrowed from you?” inquired Peggy gravely.

“‘Ah, that’s it,” said Christine with satisfaction. “Loaned Peggy, five cents; balance, seven dollars and sixty-nine cents — and here they are exactly. Doesn’t it give you a thrill, a real thrill, to have a balance come out right?” — This to Joyce.

“T hate keeping accounts,” said Joyce, “so I never do. Daddy started me once with a little red book years ago, but it was a bore. Cousin

Edith always paid our bills, and gave me my allowance.”

“TI don’t like it either,’’ confessed Christine; “but that’s why I have a thrill when it comes out right. I must tell you about our plan for this summer’s housekeeping. You see, I’ve always helped Mother a little, dried dishes, and dusted, and done some of the mending; but I’m not a bit tidy or methodical — you might as well know my faults right now —and I don’t like housework, anyway, and I just groaned when I found Lisette couldn’t come with us this year at all — she lives at home and helps us — so Mother set her wits to work and thought up a beautiful plan. I’m to be in charge of the housekeeping.” Christine’s tones were impressive. “I’m to order what I like, and cook what I like, and that’s all I’ll have to do. Mother is going to see to the rest, and do my sewing for next year. Don’t you think that’s a fine idea?”

“Well —” began Joyce doubtfully; but she was spared the necessity of choosing between the truth and politeness, for Christine’s attention was distracted from her by the approach of two boys who seemed to be on friendly terms with the whole family judging by the warm reception they received.

“Had an idea you’d be on to-day,” beamed the taller, who was introduced as “Hugh Dawson, one of our neighbors at camp.”

““Drew gave usa tip,” explained the younger brother Noel. ‘“‘ Wish we could have gotten away earlier. Drew has all the luck. I bet the fishing has been great.”

““Drew’s been busy,” explained Christine. “He and Daddy are building a little chalet for Joyce and me. We were going to have one some time and this seemed to bea good summer. It’s to be down by the sandy cove — I’m just crazy to see it. Hugh, did you know that Judy Benson is to be up this summer? We expect them in a couple of weeks.”

“Good,” said Hugh heartily. “Glad to see Judy again; they haven’t been up for two years, have they? The Adamses are back in our coach, and the Captain’s talking about giving a cup as well as the Cock-o’-the-Walk flag to the winner of the dinghy races. Bet you a fish-hook, Dicky, that I wipe old Drew off the map — here, don’t get excited, young *un. Bless my soul, here are Charley and Alison now.”

Joyce was introduced to two merry-looking girls who were full of a scheme to make a bd badminton court on their island, and who immediately invited the party to a bee next week to carry stones.

“Sorry, Charlotte,” said Hugh; “I’d like to’ oblige you, but my heart won’t permit anything violent like stone-breaking.”’

“Too bad,” said Charlotte with a twinkle, “and just when we were planning some tournaments. It’s a shame you can’t play.”

* Touché!” said Hugh, joining in the laugh. “When is this convict party to be, and I'll order a striped dress-suit for the occasion?”

Not very witty nor yet particularly humorous, but this sort of jesting seemed to give them all innumerable occasions for laughter.

When Allandale was reached, every one hurried out for a breath of fresh air, for the car had been very hot during the last half-hour.

Joyce exclaimed over the beauty of Lake Simcoe, on whose curving shores the station was situated, but the others declared that scenery would wait — she was going to see plenty of it — but if they didn’t hurry, the famous Allandale doughnuts would be all gone.

They hastened into the restaurant, which was unusually light and clean, had a little luncheon, and then adjourned to their car with bags of doughnuts and ice-cream cones.

‘IT dream about Allandale Station during the winter,” said Hugh. “It’s the only place where I can get all the perfectly good doughnuts I want. Peggy, haven’t you got any? Good child; I was afraid I’d have to offer you one. I told an English chap who was taking a flying trip through here observing ‘Canadians and Their Ways’ about these bags of doughnuts, but he said it sounded ‘nasty.’ Just like that. And I’m wondering now about Miss Hamilton.”

He gave Joyce a quizzical look.

“You needn’t any longer,’ said Joyce promptly. “They’re almost, but not quite as good as those we have at home.”

Christine and Hugh chattered gayly. They didn’t seem to mind whether the others listened or not; in fact they often talked at the same time. Any sort of nonsense was grist to Hugh’s mill. He was an extraordinarily handsome youth, graceful and debonair in his manner, and always the center of the little group wherever he might be. Noel, who was much quieter and more reserved than his brother, suffered somewhat from the inevitable contrast, but, as Joyce learned, he did not by any means lack character, and could talk very interestingly if Hugh were not there.

Listening to the talk of swimming parties, badminton tournaments, camping trips, and sailing matches, the gloom which was still at the bottom of Joyce’s heart began to melt away.

“No riding, no motoring, no dancing!”’ she had said in dismay to her father. ‘What in the world am I going to do with myself! Ill have to take to knitting to pass the time!”’