Beside old Jean there was at this time another rebel in Miss Patricia's camp, Sally Ashton. The other girls were frequently annoyed by the old lady, nevertheless, appreciating her gallant qualities and for the sake of their Camp Fire guardian, they usually agreed to her demands when it was impossible to evade them. But Sally was not fond of doing _anything_ she was told to do. Not that Sally was disagreeable, and it was not in her nature to argue, she simply ignored either suggestions or commands, always pursuing her own sweet way. This afternoon, for example, several of the girls had invited her to walk with them to one of the French villages. Once a week they distributed loaves of bread and a few grocery supplies to the neediest of the peasants, those who had been unable to rebuild their huts or find regular occupation. Sally had declined with entire frankness. She had done her duty by making the bread for the others to give away and more successfully than any one of the girls could have made it. She disliked long, fatiguing walks. Mrs. Burton had gone off alone on one of her dramatic pilgrimages. Mary Gilchrist had again motored into Soissons and Sally would have enjoyed accompanying her. To have driven about through the French country with convalescent soldiers would have been extremely entertaining. But Mary had not asked her, preferring to take Yvonne, whom the American girls all appeared to adore. So in consequence Sally was vexed and a little jealous. Observing the others depart and that apparently Sally had nothing of importance to occupy her, Miss Patricia had ordered her to come out into the yard and help with the young chickens. They seemed to be afflicted with some uncomfortable moulting disease. To this invitation Sally had made no reply. She especially disliked foolish, feathery outdoor things and had no intention of sacrificing her well-earned leisure. The school had a semi-weekly half holiday and for once the house was quiet. Yet after a little more than an hour of leisure, Sally found herself bored. Many times of late she had missed her old friendship with Gerry Williams, since this was her first Camp Fire experience without Gerry, who had married Felipe Morris the summer before in California. At least Gerry occasionally had been frivolous! Certainly these were war times and yet could one be serious forever and ever, without an intermission? The other Camp Fire girls now and then got upon Sally's nerves. As she was seldom warm enough these days, covered with her steamer blanket Sally had been curled up on the bed in her room which she shared with her sister. First she had taken a short nap and then attempted to read a French novel which she had discovered in the attic of the farm. The French puzzled her and it was tiresome to have to consult a dictionary. So Sally lay still for a few moments listening to Mere 'Toinette singing the Marseillaise in a cracked old voice as she went about her work downstairs.