CHAPTER VI

A COSTUME PARTY AND A TRIP TO BATH

Squirrels’ Inn contained a congenial group. There were the four Greycliff girls, Cathalina, Hilary, Lilian and Betty, with whose characters and talents we are fairly familiar by this time. Frances Anderson was one of the strongest girls in camp, a good, all-round, dependable girl, having ideas of her own, but what the girls called a “good sport”.

Nora McNeil was as tall as Frances and had soft, fluffy black hair, big blue eyes, and the complexion that goes with this Irish combination. She was slight and active, as happy as the rest to be in camp, for this was her first year, too, and she was experiencing all the thrills of a first time.

Marion Thurman was an Eastern girl, using the soft a’s, the r’s omitted or softened in certain places and put in in others, characteristic of New England speech. Her long hair was in shining black braids that usually hung Indian fashion over her shoulders. Large, expressive hazel eyes, a straight nose that was Isabel’s admiration, and a sweet mouth, gave expression to a very bright, attractive face.

All the girls were sensible, having no trouble over the daily program of keeping the klondike in order, going for the water, and performing the other small duties of common interest. Nobody was too lazy or selfish to take her turn, or refused to do it at the proper time. The Greycliff girls declared that Frances, Nora and Marion must all come to Greycliff for the next school year. Isabel and Virginia Hope came over once in a while to sputter about two or three girls in Piggly-Wiggly and on this particular morning were sitting on the top of two wardrobe trunks in Squirrels’ Inn.

“Bess Snider is a perfect baby!” Isabel was saying as she swung her heels. “At first she was homesick. I did not blame her for that, still when there are girls that would almost give their heads to come up here it does seem so silly.”

“You can’t help homesickness, they say, Isabel.”

“I bet I could,—just think about something else.”

“That is what I did,” assented Cathalina.

“The next thing, Bess wanted to get out of dip and games and things and got up headaches and pains of all sorts?”

“Are you sure she was pretending?”

“No, and I’m not telling it around, but it was awfully funny how she could always do the things she wanted to do! But she could never take her turn about sweeping, and we were always hanging up her bathing suit to dry for her. If she could get anybody to do anything for her she would. If anybody even started to the club house it was ‘O won’t you please take this, that or the other thing for me.’ I’ve carried up her laundry and brought her a drink of water and brought stamps for her and mailed her letters till I’m tired of it. She is getting over some things, but when she takes off her clothes at night she drops them right on the floor, even her good things, and she makes us have a bad inspection every time the camp mother comes around, unless we watch her up.”

“She is just spoiled,” laughed Cathalina, with memories of a time not so far back when she had hated to do anything for herself.

“There are several girls here who have maids at home,” said Isabel, “and they don’t do that way; they think it’s fun.”

“I’d like to be spoiled once,” said Virginia, glowing beneath her second layer of freckles. She dropped from the trunk, sank upon the nearest cot, limply fell over on the pillow, and with a drawl, remarked, “Izzy, would you mind bringing me my comb? I left it on your trunk. And Cathie, do bring the water for me, that’s a dear. My head aches so this morning. I think it’s a mistake about its being my turn, anyway. My, I’m hot after games!” and Virginia fanned herself with the end of her middy tie.

“Pretty good imitation, Virgie,” said Isabel. “She probably wouldn’t have played the games, though, would have had a bad ankle or arm, or a pain somewhere.”

“I couldn’t play yesterday,” said Betty. “I had taken cold in my shoulder or something. Do you suppose any one thought I was lazy?”

“If they did, they’ll find out differently before the summer’s over,” replied Virgie.

Poor little Virginia had never been “spoiled” enough, or had enough real love in her life those last hard years on the ranch. But she had come out of it with a tough, firm little body, and a gallant little soul with which to meet adventures, good or ill.

“I am surprised at you, Margaret Virginia Hope,” said Lilian, “that you are so hard-hearted toward Bess and condone Betty’s sins!”

“Please cut out the Margaret, Lilian. Don’t you remember how I told you that I had absolutely changed my personality? Margaret and Maggie died on the ranch.”

The girls recalled Virginia’s unhappy little story, confided to them, of the handsome-looking but rough-speaking and high-tempered stepmother whom her father had brought to the ranch, and how at last when her father found out the state of affairs he had sent her away to school and promised that she should not return for a time, if he could manage it. Virginia had been afraid that she would have to go back this summer and help, but her father’s finances improved till he found that he could afford to send her with the girls to camp.

“What are you going to wear, girls, at the costume party tonight?”

“I’m one of the men,” said Frances. “They always have me for one because I’m tall and have short hair. I’m going to have Cathalina’s scarlet sport coat and other appropriate togs, a burnt cork mustache, and a cane. We must pick our corsage bouquets this afternoon.”

“O, yes; you have to get one.”

“Yes, the gentlemen all send corsage bouquets to their ladies fair, call for them, take them to the party and take them home again. My young lady is ’way over at Pine Lodge, so I’ll call for her with my coach and four.”

“Four feet, I suppose, yours and hers,” interpolated Virgie.

“Or I shall dazzle her with the headlight of my new Rolls Royce and startle all the mosquitos and caterpillars abroad.”

“I remember, you just bought a big flashlight.”

“And gently convey her delicate form,—”

“May Furniss is one of the fattest girls in camp!”

“Why spoil my lovely tale, Isabel? Yes, May’s pretty plump and lots of fun, and as I’m almost the tallest and skinniest, we’ll be quite a pair. We couldn’t invite any girl in our own klondike, so I selected May.”

“I’m to be a man, too,” said Betty. “I’ve gathered a lot of the pretty red wood lilies already for the bouquet.”

“Land, Betty, don’t you remember who you’re taking?—It’s me!” exclaimed Virginia, somewhat ungrammatically, to be sure, but forcefully, “and wouldn’t red lilies match my hair, though!”

“Sure enough,” said Betty, frowning, “but your hair isn’t—”

“Yes it is—sandy, anyhow. And I’m really much obliged to you, Betty, for forgetting it. I wish I could.”

“Never mind, Virgie, I’ve a lot of white elder and some pretty green and I’ll pick some buttercups and Canada lilies—you’ll be a ‘symphony’ in white and gold. Don’t worry. Your beau’ll send you the prettiest bouquet of the lot,” said Betty, laughing, and put her arm around the shoulder of the little “forlorn hope” who had been so sensitive, so hungry for love and praise, and who had worshipped at the shrine of these older girls as much as ever Isabel, or Avalon Moore, had done. Even Marion Thurman, who in speech and manner was as nearly the opposite of the talkative little Westerner as could be, had taken a great fancy to both Isabel and Virginia and enjoyed their quite frequent visits.

“Listen, Marion; say your name for me, please.”

Marion complied.

“There! What did I tell you, Isabel. She can say r, just doesn’t in certain places. She gets it in Marion, but leaves it out in ‘Thuhman’. See?”

“All right Virgie, you win. Say f-l-o-o-r, Marion.”

Goodnaturedly Marion repeated the word, for these youngsters amused her, and secure of her Bostonian background, she it was who thought their speech peculiar.

“‘Flo-uh’,” repeated Isabel. “Evelyn calls it ‘flo’. Isn’t it the most interesting thing?”

“Turn about is fair play,” said Marion. “How do you pronounce w-a-t-e-r?”

“Wawter,” replied Isabel promptly.

“Correct, go to the head. Some of the Western girls say ‘wahteh’, so flat.”

“Not many of us,” said Virgie; “besides, we say wawter, not ‘wawteh’.”

“I don’t see the difference,” said Marion.

The after-dinner rest hour found some of the girls reading, some napping, and others getting costumes ready for the evening. A few declared that it was too much trouble to get up anything special. “I’m just going to wear my linen camp suit,” said one of the girls in Isabel’s klondike.

“We were told not to wear real party dresses, only simple summer dresses.”

“O, I borrowed Marjorie’s pink georgette with lovely little flowers on it! Marjorie wanted me to.”

“You may as well take it back, then, and put on one of your own frocks; don’t you remember the head councillor said ‘no borrowing’ of good things?”

Helen Paget was going as Burnt Jacket, the Indian whose wet jacket, hung too near his camp fire on the island, had given it its name. Hilary was to be his Indian maid. Isabel was to be a pirate, and borrowed “Mother Nature’s” rubber boots, to be decorated with red paper.

“I don’t know whether Captain Kidd wore boots, or not, but I should think he would,” said she.

A dangerous looking cutlass was made from a long curved stick, a pasteboard handle attached. A cardboard knife was covered with tin foil, which did not prove very durable when the knife was brandished in Isabel’s most ferocious style.

The character taken was often chosen because of the possibilities for the costume which each girl saw in her wardrobe. Evelyn said that she would name her character after she got dressed. Perhaps the chief fun of the party consisted in getting ready, and the wonder was where the girls had managed to get so many ideas and such a variety of costumes, simple but effective. But the party itself was a great success. The girls acted out their parts with spirit, copied the manly walk of their brothers and friends, used exaggerated courtesy and devotion toward their companions.

One of June’s little friends in Laugh-a-Lot looked especially dainty in her light summer frock and carried a corsage bouquet of wild roses and daisies. Her escort was a red-cheeked Spanish gentleman with a fierce mustache and a mild expression. The gym teacher marshalled the couples in a grand promenade in the assembly room. By pairs and fours, platoons or circles, they marched or wound in and out. After this, they still promenaded and several engagements took place quite publicly, declarations, acceptance and the placing of the ring followed each other in rapid succession. Isabel swaggered in a trifle late with a stunning pirate bride, veil and all, and a “take her from me if you dare” expression.

“If the company will get quiet,” announced the cheer leader, blowing a whistle, “while Madame Patti (Lilian) sings ‘O Dry Those Tears’, the distinguished Captain Kidd will be united to Miss Lucretia Borgia Vamp.”

With much harmless nonsense and laughter the costume party went on, but closed quite early, for there was to be a trip to Bath the next day. As girls whose day has been quite taken up with many interesting activities are not loth to be “early to bed”, the flashlights danced happily toward the different tents and cabins.

Everybody could go to Bath upon this first occasion. The regular morning program, with the games, was carried out, and the girls were to come to the noon meal ready to go to the boats. Many of them had been planning little shopping lists.

“What have you to get, Flo?” asked Miss West of one of the “old girls”, as she served those at her table to the hot dinner.

“I have to get a chocolate sundae and bring home a chicken sandwich,” promptly and soberly returned that young lady, not at all understanding why Patricia should laugh at the expression “have to get”.

“Haven’t you any real necessities?”

“O, yes; I have to buy a present for my father.”

“O, dear,” said Betty, who happened to be at Miss West’s table this week, “they said we could only buy a little half-pound box of candy.”

“I’ve made a bet with my councillor that I’ll not touch a piece of candy for a week. If I lose I have to give her a box of candy and if I win I don’t get anything.”

“A clear conscience, Flo,” suggested Betty.

“That’s funny,” said another of the girls, “why wouldn’t you get anything?”

“You see, I was the one that did all the betting. She wouldn’t.”

“Wait till I get home,—I’m going to have a regular candy eat!” This was a pretty little girl from Laugh-a-lot, and so fat that she was almost square. “But Mother said that was one reason she was sending me to camp, so I wouldn’t want sodas and candy every other minute.”

“What are you going to buy, Marjorie?—if it’s not too inquisitive to ask, I need to have suggestions on things I may need.” Betty pulled out her list.

“A pair of hiking shoes, another pair of sneakers, besides, of course, some candy and a sundae. Which is the best place for sundaes?”

“Will the girls,” came the announcement from the head table, “whose parents want them to have shoes in Bath, please rise? I have the list, but want to be sure that there is no mistake. What are you standing for, Mary?”

“I need rubbers.”

“And you, Bertha?”

“I need rubbers, too.”

“Very well. But girls that need rubbers will not go with this group. These girls will start first with Miss West, who will buy their shoes. They will go in the Truant and leave at once with a few others that I will send.”

“Going to Bath” at camp is like going “down town” or “upstreet” at home. It is surprising how many little errands one thinks of when separated from the shops. The weather, too, makes more difference when at camp and dependent upon boats. But how great the advantages! How the girls all loved the camp life, enjoying all the more the occasional trips to the towns about. Today there was perfect weather, the river never more blue from an almost cloudless sky. An eagle swept across above the boat. A kingfisher dived into the water near the shore. Yellow-billed gulls floated up and down with the movement of the waves. A little sandpiper hurried his flight from the rocks not far away to a grassy cove. The girls sang happily the Merrymeeting songs till all the shore dwellers must have known who was passing. As they passed Boothbay Camp, a few of the boys who happened to be about waved and gave the Boothbay and Merrymaking yells.

Arrived at Bath, each feminine party, with some councillor, applied itself to the delights of shopping, whether necessary or not. Patricia’s party bought the desired hiking shoes or other covering for active feet.

Just before time to go to the boat, a certain time having been agreed upon, one of the drug stores was almost full of girls, and, indeed, councillors, having a sundae or soda before departing. Suddenly two of the little Juniors came rushing in and up to Miss West.

“O, Miss West, we’ve spent all our money and have just found the darlingest gold lockets, only five dollars and a half, and we want to send one to our mothers. Please, Miss West! O, my daddy’ll settle for it right away. Yes, he will. Yes, my mother will want it and I don’t want it for myself at all. Please!”

The tears were very near, as the children worked themselves up to the point that they must have the lockets and that it was mean that Miss West would not lend them the camp money or her own. But Patricia was firm, though kind, and succeeded in turning their attention to something else. Cathalina, who sat at a little table near whispered to Miss West that she would lend them the money. “O, not for the world,” she replied. “Their parents have left money for them at the office and they can spend only so much. Of course they have no idea of the value of money, and we must manage for them.”

But it was a very well satisfied group of children that started for Merrymeeting about four o’clock that afternoon, with their little boxes of candy and other trifles, as well as the more important things for which they had come.