This shocked Father Paul for, as he explained,
If you should marry anyone respectable at all,
Why, you'd reform, and then what would become of Father Paul?
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
Nab that gay young sorter, terrify him into fits,
And get his wife to chop him into little bits.
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:
I have studied human nature and I know a thing or two--
Though a girl may fondly love a living chap, as many do,
Yet a feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall
When she looks upon her lover chopped particularly small!
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:
And gentle little Alice grew more settled in her mind,
She never more was guilty of a weakness of that kind,
Until at length good Robber Brown bestowed her little hand
On a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band!
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.