Now, the hostesses in their enthusiasm to be hospitable had foolishly forgotten that it is one thing to stir a pan over a methylated spirit lamp, and quite another to hold it over a camp-fire.

Peachy, Agnes, and Mary tried in turns and scorched their hands, egged on by the interested circle watching their performance.
"Make a big bonfire, and let it die down, and put the pan in the hot ashes, just as we cook chestnuts," proposed Irene.
It was, at least, a feasible suggestion.

Anything seemed better than open failure before those nineteen pairs of expectant eyes.

Volunteers went off for fresh supplies of wood, which was soon crackling merrily.
But alas! the Camellia Buds, being rather overwrought and flustered with their experiments, did not calculate on the fact that the smoke of their bonfire would give away their secret.

Rachel had handed her tennis racket to Phyllis, and was taking a turn among the orange trees to try to memorize her recitation for the elocution class.
"'All the world's a stage And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts,'" she repeated; then, catching sight of the gray cloud rising from the back of the summer-house, "Hello! What's Giovanni burning?
He'll set those orange trees on fire if he doesn't mind." Abandoning Shakespeare Rachel stalked away to investigate, and surprised the candy party by a sudden appearance in their midst.
"Good gracious, girls! Whatever are you doing here ?" she demanded in idiomatic, if hardly strictly classical English.
At the unwelcome sight of the head prefect the juniors one and all simply stampeded, and I regret to say that the more timid of the Camellia Buds followed their example.