THE EXHIBITION.
Marjorie did not bring the dolls to the next scout meeting as she had
promised, for it was a scheduled game with Troop Eighteen. She knew
that the girls who had offered to dress them would be too excited to
think about it. She was correct; for both Dot and Goldie were already
on the floor practicing when she arrived. She sauntered over towards
them.
“Goldie,” she began, “how would you like to play this game instead of
me?”
The girl fairly gasped in amazement.
“Oh, I never could, Miss Wilkinson!”
“Why not? You passed your second-class test on Wednesday night, and you
are registered with the League.”
“You don’t get me, Captain. I’m not a good enough player, and besides,
I couldn’t jump center. I’m not tall enough.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Marjorie assured her. “You would play forward,
as you have been practicing. Queenie would jump; you know Jack has been
training her to substitute that position.”
Goldie’s eyes sparkled; there was nothing she would like better.
“But what would your brother say?”
“It was he who suggested it.”
“Then it’s up to you. You’re the captain!”
“Very well, then, you play forward with Annie. Queenie and Dot will
take care of the center, and your sister and Stella can guard. I think
a line-up like that can give any team a good fight.”
Nor was she mistaken in her confidence; the girls, who now played with
more assurance and less nervousness because of their recent victory,
went into the game with all their energy, again trying to follow their
coach’s instructions to the letter. This time there was no confusion,
no foul play; the opposing troop played a clean game, but Troop Two
Hundred carried off the honors because of their superior skill.
Marjorie felt elated; all the more so because the girls had been able
to accomplish it unaided by officers.
It was after the game was over, when they were together in the dressing
room that Goldie suddenly thought of the dolls, and asked her captain
whether she had brought them.
“No,” replied Marjorie, “for two reasons. First, I didn’t think that
tonight would be a good time to distribute them, on account of carrying
them home, but principally because there are fifteen little girls in
the ward, and I wouldn’t want to take them for some and not for all.
And you and Dot and I couldn’t possibly dress five dolls apiece.”
“Oh, I’ll help!” cried Sophia, who was in the mood to agree to anything
anyone asked.
“We’ll all do it, Miss Wilkinson,” muttered Queenie, not too pleasantly.
“Not unless you really want to,” Marjorie stipulated.
“All right, we want to, then. Bring ’em next week.”
As soon as Marjorie was with John again, she told him of their
expressions of willingness, which, she had to admit, seemed rather
reluctant.
“All right—I didn’t expect they’d enthuse over sewing. Most girls
don’t. Look at the jokes in the paper about the married men who have to
sew their own buttons on!”
“I never cared for it much myself,” remarked Marjorie.
“Trying to scare me?” he inquired jokingly, but was rewarded with a
withering look.
“I had no idea that they would be interested,” he continued, “until
they actually pay a visit to the hospital. Only, by the way—mother had
a suggestion to offer. She wants to supply the goods—what do you call
’em?—remnants?—and lace and ribbons to make the dresses, and said
she’d be glad to offer a prize—a handbag, or something—to the girl
who dresses the prettiest one.”
“That’s a great idea, John!” exclaimed Marjorie. “My word, you are a
help to our troop!”
“As much as Mr. Richards?” he asked slyly.
“Almost,” Marjorie conceded.
At the very next meeting she made an opportunity to put his plans into
action and found them more successful then she had dared to hope. The
dolls were little French toys; their pretty faces made a decided appeal
to all of the girls. Moreover, the materials which Mrs. Hadley had sent
were so dainty and charming, that it made them actually want to sew.
While they were thus busily engaged, talking at the same time about the
prize that was offered, Mr. Richards dropped in.
“No interest in second-class tests tonight, I can see that!” he joked
in his pleasant, breezy manner, which was so attractive to the girls.
“I guess this is no place for a mere man!”
“Then we’ll quit!” announced Queenie, glad in her heart of an excuse to
stop. “We can practice signalling——”
The scout master raised his hand forbiddingly.
“Nothing doing!” he asserted. “When I get married I want a girl who can
sew—it’s lots more use than being able to signal. And I guess all the
other fellows are about alike. So you go right on!”
He addressed the troop in general, but he was looking at Marjorie.
“He’s crazy about her!” Queenie thought, watching him jealously. “Of
course, he couldn’t see me—when she’s around.” Her eyes narrowed.
“What do I care?” she decided, with an unconscious toss of her head.
“Didn’t I get a letter from Sam this morning?” She put her hand against
her dress and distinguished the outline of the envelope against her
clothing.
“We’re all working for a prize,” Marjorie was telling Mr. Richards.
Then she repeated the story of the children in the hospital, and
mentioned the scouts’ proposed visit.
The young man was more than interested, and asked that he be allowed to
accompany them on their expedition.
“Plannin’ to see her oftener,” Queenie mused with tightened lips.
“And that reminds me,” he continued, when he had been assured by
the captain that he was welcome, “how would you girls like to study
first-aid and follow it with home nursing? I could give you the
first-aid, and I know a cracker-jack of a nurse who’d give the other.”
Queenie knew that this time he kept his eyes fixed upon her, expecting
her to accept with enthusiasm. Just to baffle him, she turned to
Marjorie.
“What do you say, Captain?”
“Splendid!” cried Marjorie eagerly.
“I think so, too!” put in Stella, not waiting to be asked.
“All in favor say, ‘Aye,’” suggested Mr. Richards.
“Aye!” voted every scout present.
“All right, then, that’s settled—Miss Wilkinson can let me know when
you want to begin. Now I won’t bother you any more. But tell me the
date of the doll exhibition, so I can be on hand. I’d like to bring a
bunch of flowers to the mother of the doll-baby I like best.”
Queenie felt a sudden thrill pass through her. How wonderful it would
be to wear a gift from him! Then she glanced at her own sewing and
realized that her doll would never win a prize. Unless perhaps he might
have a personal interest in her, and would identify her doll, and give
her the flowers simply as a gift, in that guise. That possibility
buoyed her up; she resolved not to answer Sam’s letter until after the
exhibition, for, after all, the latter could not compare in any way
with Mr. Richards.
The scout master’s share in the affair seemed to give it an added
attraction, for after his visit the girls worked willingly, stopping
only when it was time for basketball practice. Only twice was the
sewing excluded, on the occasions of the two League games, and as these
both resulted in victories for their team, they did not feel that they
had been robbing their basketball time. About the middle of March, just
one week before the final deciding game of the League, they gave their
little exhibition.
As John had originally planned, there were fifteen dolls in all. Most
of the girls had dressed two; Queenie and Aggie and Annie had been
satisfied with one. They arranged them to advantage in Miss Winthrop’s
office, and awaited their guests.
Only a small number had been invited—Mrs. Hadley and John, Mr.
Richards, Jack, Lily and Miss Winthrop. They were to vote by ballot
for their favorite, and the prize was to be awarded to the girl who
received the most votes. Mr. Richards, however, reserved the right to
control the sole vote upon his own prize.
Queenie, who entertained no hope of winning Mrs. Hadley’s prize,
watched Mr. Richards furtively as he strolled from doll to doll,
picking them up now and then, apparently inspecting them carefully. She
actually trembled when she recognized her own doll in his hand.
The balloting was concluded; Marjorie collected the votes and counted
them, while the girls busied themselves by serving the lemonade and
cakes they had provided in honor of their guests. In a few moments the
captain returned, a bright smile on her face. It was evident that she
was well satisfied with the result of the election.
She went over to the table and selected the winning dolls, holding them
up for the others to see. With a gasp Queenie realized that hers had
not been chosen!
“Mrs. Hadley’s prize—the first prize—goes to this cute little doll
in pink,” she announced—“which was dressed by Dot Williams. And the
second prize goes to the baby doll, whose clothing was made by Goldie
Ernsberg.”
Every one but Queenie clapped approvingly; she sat silent, lost in
remorse. Then suddenly realizing that her attitude might be noticed,
she added her applause to the rest.
But when the party met to pay their proposed visit to the children’s
ward, Marjorie found, to her amazement and dismay, that Queenie Brazier
was not among them. Nor could any member of the troop explain the cause
of her absence.