“Did you dye that old petticoat and underwaist pink?” demanded Winona, sticking her head into Marie’s tent.

“Yes, I did,” said Marie promptly, “and it’s starched, and ironed with the charcoal-iron.”

“And did Adelaide borrow her brother’s bathrobe for Louise?”

“No, she didn’t, but I did—at least, I sent Frances over for it,” said Marie. “It’s here, and safe.”

“And did Louise sew the hood on it?”

“She did,” said Marie resignedly. “Every single property for ‘Gentle Alice Brown’ and the ‘Oysterman’ is in a mound in the dressing-tent. Go look, for goodness’ sake, or you’ll have nervous prostration.”

Winona, property-woman and general manager of the performance, pulled back her head with a sigh of relief, and went to find the girl who had promised to straighten out the fishing-tackle necessary to the Ballad of the Oysterman—for they were to present that classic of Holmes’s in a very few hours.

The performance was to be at eight, and it was a strictly complimentary one. The Scouts were invited, and various special friends from Wampoag, most of them made over dealings in Camp merchandise. A committee had been appointed to see about illuminations, and another to attend to the refreshments. They were amassing honor beads by doing it. Marie’s Blue Birds were busy everywhere. Camp Karonya was dazzlingly clean, and everyone was getting out the one dress-up frock she had brought along, and giving it attention. There was to be an exhibit, also, as the flaring posters Helen had prepared said, of “potteries, embroideries, jellies, hand-carvings, pickles and other objects.” It had been going to be “other objects of art,” but Winona pointed out that jellies and pickles weren’t, no matter what the rest might be. So the poster stopped abruptly at “objects,” and the space was filled up by a life-like portrait of a jelly-glass.

Camp Karonya took a very brief meal of bread and milk and cookies, and the dish-washers hurried through their tasks. For eight o’clock has a way of coming long before you expect it. About seven-thirty the paddles and oars and motor-boats of the audience began to be heard, and the reception committee scurried down to the dock to meet their guests. First came their friends the Scouts from down the river, about thirty strong. After them, in little groups, came the summer people, including Billy’s Aunt Lydia, who never missed a Camp Fire function if she could help it.

The audience was seated, as usual, on planks laid from box to box and nailed. They did not have to sit there long. After a great deal of giggling and rustling behind the big green curtain that had been made of sacks, pieced together and dyed, Winona came out to announce the beginning of the entertainment.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she commenced, “to-night we are going to have, beside several musical selections, some moving pictures with explanatory recitations—some very moving pictures. After the opening song we will have the first one, ‘Gentle Alice Brown.’”

The audience applauded, and then the girls sang a Camp Fire song in chorus. After that Louise and Edith played a conscientious mandolin-banjo duet. Then Marie, who was the reader of the evening, came out with a copy of Gilbert’s Bab Ballads and very slowly began to read “Gentle Alice Brown.”

At the first line the curtain was pulled back, revealing Winona alone against a sheet background. She was in an 1860 costume made from an old, full petticoat and tight underwaist, dyed pink, and helped out with small puffed sleeves and a sash. Her curls were bound with a wreath of artificial roses from the ten-cent store, slightly over one ear. She sat on a chair with her head on her hand, and she was looking mournfully over the chair-back. Marie began,

Itwasarobber’sdaughter,andhernamewasAliceBrown,
HerfatherwastheterrorofasmallItaliantown;
Hermotherwasafoolish,weak,butamiableoldthing,
Butitisn’tofherparentsthatI’mgoingfortosing.

As Marie went on, across the stage galloped ferociously Helen, who had been given the role of Robber Brown because she was one of the tallest of the girls. A red flannel shirt of Tom Merriam’s, topped by a fishing hat and black mustachio, were most convincing. Her short kilt, which gave her rather the look of a Greek than an Italian bandit, was met by a pair of fishing-boots, and she wore three carving-knives and a cartridge belt. She strode ferociously across the stage, looking neither to right nor left.

Edith Hillis, trotting meekly behind her as Mrs. Brown, wore a baggy old long skirt, a bandanna tied around her waist, one around her neck and another on her head. She only had one carving-knife. But the lovely Alice did not deign to look at her parents. She gazed sadly out over the audience, while Marie went on to tell how—

AsAlicewassittingatherwindow-silloneday
Abeautifulyounggentlemanhechancedtopassthatway,
AsorterattheCustom-house,itwashisdailyroad—
(TheCustom-housewasfifteenminuteswalkfromherabode).

At this point the hero crossed the stage dashingly, with a cane under his arm. It was Adelaide, in a plaid cap, a waxed mustache, and a very precise duster which reached her heels. A pipe (she said afterwards it had a dreadful taste) stuck from one corner of her mouth.

Gentle Alice sighed deeply, and so did her lover, who became aware of her presence with a tragic start. He halted, waved to her, sighed with his hand on his heart, and looked altogether very lovelorn. Gentle Alice did not notice him at first, but she gradually seemed to yield, and finally languished softly at him—and winked. So did he. Then he kissed his hands at her and went off reluctantly to work, while Alice wiped away her tears with a large bandanna such as her parents had worn. (They were the historic bandannas which had served Winona and Louise so well on their peddling trip.)

The ballad went on to relate how presently Alice’s conscience bothered her. So she asked the Brown’s family confessor about it,

Thepriestbywhomtheirlittlecrimeswerecarefullyassessed.

Here Louise appeared, in the brown bathrobe, with its hood pulled up over her head, and sandals on. Alice threw herself at his feet, and waved her hands in grief.

“Oh,father,”GentleAlicesaid,“’Twouldgrieveyou,woulditnot,
TofindthatIhavebeenamostdisreputablelot?”

Louise assumed a benign expression and listened while Alice confessed her sins. Marie stopped, while Winona herself spoke:

Iassisteddearmammaincuttingupalittlelad,
Ihelpedpapatostealalittlekiddyfromitsdad—
Iplannedalittleburglaryandforgedalittlecheck
Andslewalittlebabyforthecoralonitsneck!

But Father Brown seemed inclined to be forgiving, and with a few remarks, ended,

Wemustn’tbetoohardupontheselittlegirlishtricks—
Let’ssee—fivecrimesathalfacrown—exactlytwelveandsix.

Alice thanked him in a few grateful couplets, and pulled out another bandanna with money tied up in it from which she paid him. The ballad went on to relate how Alice tremblingly confessed her last sin, about the beautiful gentleman, who passed every day:

Iblushtosay,I’vewinkedathim—andhehaswinkedatme!

This shocked Father Paul for, as he explained,

Ifyoushouldmarryanyonerespectableatall,
Why,you’dreform,andthenwhatwouldbecomeofFatherPaul?

So he pulled up his cowl, the ballad went on to state—and Louise went on to act—and trotted off to tell the news to Robber Brown.

They came on together, while the Father repeated the news, and stood consulting in the corner, while Alice, from her actions, seemed to be thinking still of the sorter.

Robber Brown took it quite calmly. He decided to be quite kind to Alice about it—merely to

Nabthatgayyoungsorter,terrifyhimintofits,
Andgethiswifetochophimintolittlebits.

He argued that Alice, after that, would not love him any more. So, while Father Paul exited, Robber Brown lay stealthily in wait, assisted by his wife. Presently along came the gay young sorter again, waving his hand jauntily to Alice. Robber Brown sprang out, crossed directly in front of the sorter, who appeared not to see him at all, and proceeded to track him up and down the stage two or three times, with Mrs. Brown trailing in the rear. After the three had gone up and down twice (Alice, also, oblivious to her parents’ presence, and throwing kisses to the sorter) Robber Brown finally “took a life-preserver” in the shape of a stout-looking stick, and pretended to fell the gay young sorter. Immediately Mrs. Brown bounded up with a piece of chalk, and proceeded to mark him off in pieces for dissection, for, as Robber Brown remarked:

IhavestudiedhumannatureandIknowathingortwo—
Thoughagirlmayfondlylovealivingchap,asmanydo,
Yetafeelingofdisgustuponhersensestherewillfall
Whenshelooksuponherloverchoppedparticularlysmall!

Indeed, this terrifying sight as far as it went, seemed to have the desired effect on Alice. To be sure, she fell in a dead faint, and Father Paul had to catch her, while Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and two more bandits (in bandannas) carried off the late sorter; but immediately afterward a young bandit, very much like Robber Brown except that he was smaller, came in and was patted with obvious admiration by Mr. and Mrs. Brown, who led him up to Alice. She recovered slowly, sat up, and presently accepted his attentions with pleasure. Father Paul gave them his blessing, while Marie said:

AndgentlelittleAlicegrewmoresettledinhermind,
Shenevermorewasguiltyofaweaknessofthatkind,
UntilatlengthgoodRobberBrownbestowedherlittlehand
Onapromisingyoungrobber,thelieutenantofhisband!

After that the curtain was drawn again, while the girls dressed for Holmes’s “It Was a Gay Young Oysterman.” This, while it was good, was not the hit with the audience that “Gentle Alice Brown” had been. When it was finished, and the oysterman and his bride were seen “keeping a shop for mermaids down below,” the girls took down the curtain, and while more music was played the performers hurried into their pretty dresses. Then they came out, and strolled about the camp with the audience.

“Where are Vicky and Sandy?” Winona remembered to ask Helen, as they met after the curtain was down. “Did they come?”

“I think so,” said Helen, rubbing hard at her cork mustache. “Adelaide, did you see Sandy anywhere?”

Adelaide, who was just braiding her hair, turned.

“Yes, I did,” she said. “She’s here somewhere, with another little girl. I saw them not long ago.”

Winona went in search of them, for when you ask a guest to an entertainment it’s only polite to hunt her up. It was not hard to find the sisters. They were sitting with Louise, eating home-made ice-cream.

Winona sat down by them.

“I’m awfully glad you came, Vicky.”

“So’m I, too,” said Vicky. She seemed rather shy here in the camp, but she looked happy. “I’m having a nice time.”

“I’m glad,” said Winona. “Did you like the moving pictures?”

“Yes,” said Vicky, “they were awfully funny. And—oh, Winona, I’ve picked out a name.”

“What is it?” asked Winona.

“Janet. Of course people can call me Vicky still, if they want to, but my real name will be Janet. I asked uncle, the way you said, and he said I did have a middle name, Janet, after my grandmother.”

“Oh, that’s splendid!” said Winona. “I’m named after my grandmother, too.”

“That makes us a sort of relation, doesn’t it?” asked Vicky.

“Why, I hope it does,” was the hearty reply.

“And there’s something I wanted to ask you about,” said Vicky—now Janet—shyly. “Alone, I mean.”

“Come over here with me, and we’ll walk up and down and talk about it,” invited Winona.

Vicky took her hand, and they strolled off down one of the wood-paths.

“I’d rather not ask Louise,” explained Vicky, “because—well, she laughs so about everything. She might laugh at me. And that other girl is sort of grown-up talking. But—well, it’s—I’d like to be like the rest of the people—other little girls, you know—and it’s dreadfully hard when you haven’t any father or mother, and your uncle’s an artist with a temp’rament. Sometimes he gets us governesses, and they say we’re queer, and sometimes we just do as we please. But—well, there isn’t anybody to show us things.”

She looked at Winona wistfully, as if she thought she could show her how to be just like other children all at once.

“Why do people always come to me to show them how?” wondered Winona to herself. “I don’t know any more about how to do things than the other girls.”

She did not realize that it was her sunniness and sympathy—her Ray-of-Lightness, as Louise called it—together with a certain straightforward common sense, that made girls who wanted help come to her. They could be sure that she would not laugh at them, or tell anyone else what they had said, and they were sure of advice that had brightness and sense.

“What sort of things do you want me to tell you?” asked Winona. “I’d love to help you, but some of the others know lots more about things than I do.”

“It’s you I want to ask,” said Vicky decidedly. “It’s my clothes, to begin with. Are they right?”

Winona stopped and looked Vicky over. They were out in the open by now, and it was bright moonlight, so she could see plainly what the little girl had on. It was a blue taffeta, very stiff and rustling, trimmed with plaid taffeta and black buttons. By its looks it had been bought ready-made, for it had a sort of gaudy smartness. It was of good material, but somehow, it was cheap-looking. Also by its looks, bread-and-butter had been eaten on or near it.

“You mean your dress?”

“Yes,” said Vicky. “It isn’t right, is it? But I don’t know what to do about it. I bought it myself.”

“You mean your uncle gives you the money, and you go and buy your own things?” asked Winona.

“Oh, yes,” said Vicky. “But the ones the governesses used to get weren’t much better. There was one governess who always picked out bright green. I hate green, anyway. And sometimes the cook used to. She would yet if I’d let her. But I won’t. I don’t think it’s any of her business.”

“Well——” Winona hesitated.

“Well, what had I better do?” demanded Vicky.

“I don’t know!” said Winona frankly. “But I do know that that silk dress is wrong. Why don’t you get summer dresses, chambrays and ginghams and organdies?”

“I don’t know,” said Vicky. “I never thought about it. Silk is better, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so,” said Winona. “It doesn’t wash. You see this dress isn’t very clean.”

“No,” acknowledged Vicky. “Does being clean count such a lot?”

“Goodness!” Words failed Winona. “I tell you,” she said finally. “Why don’t you come over here and join the Blue Birds, Vicky? Marie could tell you a lot of things and it would be the quickest way to learn a lot about being like other people, if that is what you want.”

“I’d like to,” said Vicky, “but I sort of keep house.”

“I have an idea, then,” said Winona. Now, when Winona had ideas her friends usually waited to hear what she had to say. “Why couldn’t some of the girls come up and stay with you, after Camp is over? It will be quite awhile even then before school opens. We could help you—show you how to do things.”

“Oh, I’d like that,” said Vicky. Then she stopped, doubtfully. “That is, if I could pick out the ones.”

“Of course, you’d invite your own guests,” Winona assured her. “And we’d pay what we cost your uncle extra.... But what about him? It’s his house, and he mightn’t like it.”

“Oh, he’d never care,” said Vicky. “He never knows much about what goes on, anyway! And I know he’d like to have me learn how to be a well-bred little gentlewoman, because he talks about it sometimes. And anyway he’s going off somewhere where he can’t take us some time soon.”

“Then I don’t see why we can’t manage it!” said Winona enthusiastically. “But I can tell you now about the clothes. You want to buy dresses that will wash. And you don’t ever want to play in silk dresses, or even organdies or batistes—tree-climbing, and things like that, I mean.”

“I might get some middies, like you wear,” said Vicky thoughtfully. “And I suppose, long’s I’m going to reform, I might as well get Sand to keep her dresses on. She goes chasing out in her underwaist and petticoat sometimes.”

“Oh, that was why she hadn’t any on when Louise found her!” said Winona, seeing a light.

“Yes,” confessed Vicky. “What’s that noise?”

“That’s the horn,” said Winona. “It must mean that it’s bedtime. She’s playing ‘taps.’ Mrs. Bryan signals us with it, always.”

“I think I’d like to be a Blue Bird,” said Vicky. “But I like the other plan better,” she added quickly.

“We’re going to be here quite a while longer,” said Winona, “so you’ll have lots of time to think whether you want us and whether your uncle will be willing.”

“Oh, that’s all right!” said Vicky as the two went back to camp.