THE JUNIORS
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:
“Somebody happy, jolly and kind;
If she loses a game,—well, never mind.”
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!”