June, of the Juniors, was having, in her own words, the “greatest fun of her lifetime.” Never had she lived with so many other little girls. Laugh-a-lot had overflowed into “Little Content”, a tent next to the shingled cabin, and “Hillside Inn”, located where the name indicates. The latter tent had its name conspicuously posted on a board, though the sign artist found that there was not enough room for the last “N” and put up the sign without it.

The youngest of the Juniors were two eight-year-olds, Dorothy Freneau and Josephine Rathmell. Dorothy was short and chubby, with appealing blue eyes and engaging ways. Josephine was taller, thin, with olive complexion and short, fluffy, dark hair. Despite the difference in size and complexion these little girls were called the Twins, because of their years, their birthdays only a week or so apart. “Dot” and “Jo” were great favorites in camp, loved but not spoiled, for neither was babyish nor selfish and in all the camp sports or trips each wanted to play her part well. As Dotty had taken a special fancy to June both girls were often found in her company.

Among June’s other friends was an enterprising child of Isabel’s type, who had copied her brothers and who sought June’s companionship, largely because she was so different. June, like Hilary, was of the consoling, steady type that makes a good confidante, and this ten-year-old had more than one woe to confide. For June herself camp life was doing a good deal in helping her to overcome her timidity. She learned and tried to practice the definition of a “good sport”, which was pinned up in the dining-room:

There were some things which she found it hard to take pleasantly in this first experience with the companionship of a group. She hated the mischievous tricks that some of them played, but tried to be patient whenever she was the victim. She learned to look in her bed to see if either caterpillar or pebbles were there, and made it over pleasantly whenever it was “made French”. One child upset a box of blueberries upon it when it was open to air, and one morning her suit-case was missing, found later in a distant klondike, where it had been carried “for fun”.

“They think that it is really funny,” she confided to Hilary. “Several times I’ve had it upon the tip of my tongue to say as Mother has said to us ‘anybody could do that; a smart person wouldn’t even think it funny’, but I can’t do it, since I’m not bringing them up as Mother is us, and then they’d think I was mad. I must be different not to like it. And I did hate it about the sheets. Will the stain come out? Of course that was just an accident.”

“Don’t worry about that. Mother gave us common sheets and she knows that we can’t be as careful in camp life, though there is no sense in being destructive. Just get along as nicely as you can and keep pleasant. We have always had to be careful, for financial reasons, and then there is good sense in having some ‘thrift’. I don’t imagine that the parents of these girls want them to be as careless with their own and other people’s property as a few of them are.”

“I’ll try to do the best I can, but it seems so stingy not to lend things to the girls, and if I do I don’t have them when I need them. The other day when it was so wet Bess had my rubbers and I got my feet wet, and the head councillor met me and said, ‘Why, Junie, where are your rubbers?’ and I almost cried!”

“That is more serious. I don’t know what you will do except to refuse to lend them. Wrap them in a paper and keep them in your trunk if necessary.”

“Then they’ll say I’m mean.”

“Let ’em. They all have or have had the necessary things; let them look after their own. Don’t you remember how it has been said again and again, ‘Don’t lend; don’t borrow.’ And just yesterday the head councillor said, ‘It is not selfish to look after your own property.’ Those few careless girls make a lot of trouble for her, I guess. Notice all the things that are left in the office or assembly hall.”

“I really do like that generous kind that will give anything they have,” said June thoughtfully. “Bess would give away her head, I guess; but her rubbers are gone and her sweater and a lot of other things and that is why she borrows. I can’t borrow, someway, so I come to grief if I don’t have my own things.”

“A lot of the girls just leave everything to their mothers, you know. They haven’t lived in a minister’s family where things have to be managed and everybody has to take a little responsibility.”

“O, Hilary, I forgot. We have to have the doings next Friday or Saturday night. Have you any ideas? Our councillor said for each of us to think up something if we could and we are to meet after supper tonight to talk it over.”

“How about some Mother Goose tableaux, or some charades for the girls to guess?”

“O, yes; that would be fun,” said June, clapping her hands. “Will you help me get dressed that night?”

“Yes, I’ll help in whatever you get up if your councillor wants me to. I’ll see you at supper if I have any more ideas.”

The meeting of the committee after supper was a momentous occasion. What they were planning had to be kept a secret from the other girls or the entertainment would lose that element of surprise in which half the fun consists.

“I just can’t think of a thing!” declared Dot. “O, yes I can, too,—why I can do something that we girls at school did in a drill one time.”

“Good, Dotty,” said the councillor, “you can do it by yourself or show one or two of the other girls how to do it with you. Now that is your responsibility. Can we depend upon you to do it?”

“Yes, I’ll get it up all myself.”

One thought of one thing, another of something else. Hilary was brought in, and another meeting planned for the following morning before games. A long hike was planned for Friday, which would probably tire the girls, and caused a postponement of the Junior entertainment to Saturday night. But this pleased the Juniors as giving them more time. Dot and Jo were practicing some thing very hard to do. June was fixing something of Hilary’s to wear. Borrowing for theatricals was considered proper!

Curtains were up for the entertainment this time. The Junior councillors had gathered in the Juniors to dress for their parts. Important as it seemed, some little folks will forget to note the time which will slip away so fast!

“Isn’t it nice to have curtains?” said Jo. “When we had Little Red Riding-Hood we had to get things ready in the dark.”

The first number on the program was a concert by the world’s greatest artists. Madame Galli-Curci appeared first, accompanied by Lilian with the guitar. The small prima donna had refused to sing anything appropriate to her years. “No, sir, I won’t sing a child’s song. Yes, of course, I know ’em. How could I help it, when we sing them at school? But it has to be a grown-up song or else I won’t be Galli-Curci!”

“Madame Shumann-Heink sings ‘Holy Night’.”

“I wouldn’t call that a child’s song. Besides it is summer now. What songs do you know, Lilian? I can learn anything in two days.”

“Remarkable child!” sighed the councillor who was helping. “Get her anything she wants, Lilian.”

Jo folded her arms and stood calmly to wait what would be done. Lilian came to the rescue, and after trying over a number of songs she found that Jo was familiar with the tune of “O Promise Me”.

This rendered that night in a high childish voice created quite as much of a sensation as the real prima donna could have desired, particularly in respect to the pronunciation of the words and division of syllables. “You-an-dI” and “or-gunn” were especially appreciated by the audience, who were apparently carried away by the effective close, “O, prom-uss me, O, prom-muss me!” Enthusiastic encores brought Jo back several times, but while she handled her train with ease and bowed and smiled with all the graces of the stage, she refused to repeat her effort and had not learned an encore.

After the rest of the artists had appeared, four little girls gave a drill as wooden dolls, while one of the councillors played “Narcissus.” This was Dot’s idea.

The Mother Goose tableaux were especially pretty. They included Old King Cole, Little Boy Blue and other of the well know classics which were quickly guessed by the audience. Little Bo-peep had her crook and was shading her eyes as she looked for her sheep. Simple Simon was fishing in his mother’s pail. The cupboards in the wall which had been a part of the original farm-house kitchen were just the thing for old Mother Hubbard.

“The last two numbers will be charades,” announced Dot. “The first is two words, in one act.”

The curtains were drawn aside, revealing one happy little girl curled up on a rug. She was deeply absorbed in a book, and ate candy from a box close at hand. The audience hesitated, whispered, and finally some one called “Little Content”. That was the right answer, and the curtains closed. When they were again drawn they disclosed the entire group of Juniors sitting upon the floor and laughing. Having been prepared by the previous charade, the audience at once cried, “Laugh-a-lot! Laugh-a-lot!”