tea. It was fun, but the bounces hurt her rear end.
“I’ve taken my girls to Mohonk to begin every fall term since I started Andrebrook in 1920,” Miss Weaver said. “You’ll get acquainted more quickly here.”
They soon learned the real reason: Miss Weaver loved to hike.
“What’s she look like?” Jean whispered to another girl as they gathered the next morning for a hike.
“Silly, actually,” said a girl named Sally Anne. “She’s got on heavy hiking boots, knickers, long wool stockings, and a sweater tied around her middle.”
“And white frizzy hair and a funny wool hat,” said another.
“She walks like a man, with huge steps.”
“Must be the picture of outdoor vigor,” Jean said.
Miss Weaver paired Jean with a girl named Dody Rollins and set off along the lakeside at a good clip, talking as fast as she was walking. She told them wonderful tales of former Andrebrook girls, of going to opera in New York and of traveling in Europe during the summer, of skiing Cortina and mountain climbing in the Dolomites, of producing Shakespearean comedies and of going to dances at military academies. Jean wondered how she could ever fit in. Icy would love it. It surprised her that she thought of Icy again. Maybe because she was hiking in the woods with a group of girls again. Maybe because being here without Icy, or anyone she knew, she felt alone, far more alone than she ever felt the first days at Camp Hanoum. She wished she wouldn’t be so shy, but she didn’t know how not to be.
The thirteen girls marched along surrounding Miss Weaver. Holding onto Dody’s arm with an iron grip, Jean scrambled to keep up so she wouldn’t miss hearing anything, and so she wouldn’t call attention to herself. At the end of the hike everybody was breathing heavily, but Miss Weaver was still talking, with complete composure.
“Tomorrow afternoon you are to explore the trails by yourself, all together. Certainly you will go with them, Jean,” she said, as if reading her mind.
The next afternoon came before Jean was ready for it.
At first the trails up hill were wide and smooth, easy enough to negotiate. Trooping along with others at Camp Hanoum had taught her how. She didn’t want to be a nuisance to the others so soon. But she felt the spirit of the girls’ new independence grow, and it made her apprehensive. Who knows where they would go? The trail became steeper and more uneven. It must have narrowed, too, because branches were closer on both sides. “Are we still on the main path?”
“No,” someone answered.
Then she felt a rock wall on one side. “Where are we?”
“In some kind of a ravine.”
“Where does it go?”
“We can’t tell yet. Up.”
She was determined not to cause them difficulty. Even though she stumbled every few steps, she tried to walk as close as she could to Dody ahead of her, one hand on Dody’s shoulder, the other feeling for the rock wall. Soon she discovered rock on both sides of her.
She heard a weak, squeaky cry up ahead. “I’m stuck. I can’t move,” someone said. The others had to pull fat Mimi from the top and push her from the bottom to get her through the crevice. At least I won’t cause them that problem, Jean thought. Miss Weaver was right. They got acquainted fast.
By keeping her hand out to the side and by putting one foot in front of the other, Jean made it through the narrow part. Eventually, they came to a wooden gazebo at the top of the hill and collapsed on the benches lining the perimeter.
“We’re supposed to be able to see into four states from here,” said Dody, breathing hard, “but I can’t tell what I’m looking at.”
“Look at that crooked little trail down there,” said another girl with a high voice. It sounded like Sally Anne. “Let’s see where it leads.”
“Are you crazy?” someone shouted back.
“Come on,” she insisted. “Just for a ways.”
“What does it look like?” asked Jean.
“It’s pretty precarious.
“I’ve taken my girls to Mohonk to begin every fall term since I started Andrebrook in 1920,” Miss Weaver said. “You’ll get acquainted more quickly here.”
They soon learned the real reason: Miss Weaver loved to hike.
“What’s she look like?” Jean whispered to another girl as they gathered the next morning for a hike.
“Silly, actually,” said a girl named Sally Anne. “She’s got on heavy hiking boots, knickers, long wool stockings, and a sweater tied around her middle.”
“And white frizzy hair and a funny wool hat,” said another.
“She walks like a man, with huge steps.”
“Must be the picture of outdoor vigor,” Jean said.
Miss Weaver paired Jean with a girl named Dody Rollins and set off along the lakeside at a good clip, talking as fast as she was walking. She told them wonderful tales of former Andrebrook girls, of going to opera in New York and of traveling in Europe during the summer, of skiing Cortina and mountain climbing in the Dolomites, of producing Shakespearean comedies and of going to dances at military academies. Jean wondered how she could ever fit in. Icy would love it. It surprised her that she thought of Icy again. Maybe because she was hiking in the woods with a group of girls again. Maybe because being here without Icy, or anyone she knew, she felt alone, far more alone than she ever felt the first days at Camp Hanoum. She wished she wouldn’t be so shy, but she didn’t know how not to be.
The thirteen girls marched along surrounding Miss Weaver. Holding onto Dody’s arm with an iron grip, Jean scrambled to keep up so she wouldn’t miss hearing anything, and so she wouldn’t call attention to herself. At the end of the hike everybody was breathing heavily, but Miss Weaver was still talking, with complete composure.
“Tomorrow afternoon you are to explore the trails by yourself, all together. Certainly you will go with them, Jean,” she said, as if reading her mind.
The next afternoon came before Jean was ready for it.
At first the trails up hill were wide and smooth, easy enough to negotiate. Trooping along with others at Camp Hanoum had taught her how. She didn’t want to be a nuisance to the others so soon. But she felt the spirit of the girls’ new independence grow, and it made her apprehensive. Who knows where they would go? The trail became steeper and more uneven. It must have narrowed, too, because branches were closer on both sides. “Are we still on the main path?”
“No,” someone answered.
Then she felt a rock wall on one side. “Where are we?”
“In some kind of a ravine.”
“Where does it go?”
“We can’t tell yet. Up.”
She was determined not to cause them difficulty. Even though she stumbled every few steps, she tried to walk as close as she could to Dody ahead of her, one hand on Dody’s shoulder, the other feeling for the rock wall. Soon she discovered rock on both sides of her.
She heard a weak, squeaky cry up ahead. “I’m stuck. I can’t move,” someone said. The others had to pull fat Mimi from the top and push her from the bottom to get her through the crevice. At least I won’t cause them that problem, Jean thought. Miss Weaver was right. They got acquainted fast.
By keeping her hand out to the side and by putting one foot in front of the other, Jean made it through the narrow part. Eventually, they came to a wooden gazebo at the top of the hill and collapsed on the benches lining the perimeter.
“We’re supposed to be able to see into four states from here,” said Dody, breathing hard, “but I can’t tell what I’m looking at.”
“Look at that crooked little trail down there,” said another girl with a high voice. It sounded like Sally Anne. “Let’s see where it leads.”
“Are you crazy?” someone shouted back.
“Come on,” she insisted. “Just for a ways.”
“What does it look like?” asked Jean.
“It’s pretty precarious.
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