The Carter Girls' Week-End Camp Part 16

Much to the satisfaction of the Carter girls, all the week-enders did decide to come on the picnic, also their mother. They knew very well that had that lady made up her mind to remain in camp, Susan's time would have been taken up waiting on her and the thorough cleaning that the pavilion and kitchen were crying out for would never be accomplished.

Mr. Hiram G. Parker, in faultless morning costume, had proffered himself as squire of dames and was a.s.sisting that dainty little lady on the rough journey to the fallen tree. She, too, had attired herself with thoughtful care in sheer white linen lawn with a large picture hat of finest straw and a ruffled lace parasol. The girls were in strong contrast to their chaperone, since one and all, even Tillie Wingo, were dressed in khaki skirts and leggins. The only variation in costume was that some wore middies and some sport s.h.i.+rts.

First a fire must be built and a big one at that, as it takes many hot coals to roast potatoes. Lucy and Lil Tate, with their faithful followers, Skeeter and Frank, had gone on a little ahead, and when the rest of the crowd reached the spot the fire was already burning merrily. In a short time it was ready to drop the potatoes in, Irish potatoes and great yams that looked big enough for the bed-ridden giant himself to make a meal of. Then the roasting ears of corn must be opened, the silk removed and the ears wrapped carefully in the shucks again and placed in just exactly the right part of the fire to cook but not to burn.

There was some kind of work for all of those inclined to usefulness, and any who were not so inclined could wander around admiring the scenery or climb up in the tree to secure the choice seats. There were seats for all and to spare in the gnarled old limbs of the giant oak. Mrs. Carter was enthroned in a leafy armchair while Hiram G. perched beside her.

Evidently he was prepared to be waited on and not to wait. Bobby climbed to the tiptop of one of the great branches where he looked like a "little cherub that sits up aloft."

"I'm a-gonter let down a string and pull my eats up here," he declared.

"Oh, Bobby!" shuddered his mother. "Don't say such words!"

"What I done now?" cried that young hopeful, peeping down through the leafy screen, with an elfish, toothless grin.

"Don't say eats! Say luncheon!"

"Yes, I won't! If I say luncheon, they'll send me up 'bout 'nough to put in my eye. I've a great mind to say victuals like Oscar and then they'll send me up something sho'. Hi, Helen! Put my victuals in a bucket and tie it to this string!" he cried, dangling a string before Helen's eyes as she stooped under the tree, unpacking the basket containing the paper plates and j.a.panese napkins.

"I won't put anything in the bucket unless you mind mother," said Helen severely, but her eye was twinkling at Bobby's philological distinction.

"Well, then, Helen dear, be so kind as to put my luncheon in that there little bucket what you see turned up over yonder by the fire. But, Helen," in a stage whisper, "please don't put it in like a luncheon but like it was jes' victuals. Luncheons ain't never 'nough for workin'

mens." So all in good time Helen packed a hefty lunch in the bucket for her darling and he drew it up to his castle in the tree and feasted right royally.

When everyone was too hungry to stand it another moment the potatoes were done, all burnt on the outside and delicious and mealy within.

There never were such sandwiches as Helen's; and the corn, roasted in the shucks, was better than corn ever had been before. The cheese cakes and fried turnovers proved very good for tree eating and not too squashy. Boxes of candy appeared like magic from the pockets of masculine week-enders. Mr. Tucker produced three, one for each of his girls.

"Oh, Zebedee!" exclaimed Dum. "I am so relieved. I thought you were getting hippy. It was candy all the time."

When every vestige of food was devoured and all the paper plates and papers carefully burned, as Nan said, to keep from desecrating Nature, someone proposed that they should play games.

"Let's play teakettle!" exclaimed Skeeter, so teakettle it was. Some of the company had to be enlightened as to the game and perhaps some of my readers may have to be also. This is the way: whoever is "It" or "Old Man" must go out of ear shot and then the company selects a word. The "Old Man" then returns and asks a question to each one in turn. The answer must contain the chosen word, but in place of the word, "teakettle" must be inserted.

"You go out, Zebedee, you are so spry," suggested the irreverent Dum.

"No, that's not fair! We must count out," declared Dee, determined that her parent must be bossed only by her own sweet self.

"I bid to count!" from Lucy. "'Eny, meny, miny mo, cracker, feny, finy, fo, ommer noocher, popper toocher, rick, bick, ban, do, as, I, went, up the, apple, tree, all, the, apples, fell, on, me, bake a, pudding, bake, a, pie, did, you, ever, tell, a, lie, yes, you, did, you, know, you, did, you, broke, your, mammy's, tea, pot, lid, did, she, mind?'" She stopped at Lil Tate, who was equal to the occasion.

"No!" cried Lil; and Lucy took up her counting out in the sing-song we hear from children engaged in that delightful occupation of finding out who is to be "It." No matter where one lives--east, west, north or south--it is the same except for slight variations in the sense of the incantation.

"N, o, spells, the, word, no, and, you, are, really--It!" An accusing finger was pointed at Nan, who perforce must crawl from her comfortable perch and go around the side of the mountain while the a.s.sembled company chose a word.

After much whispering, Mr. Tucker hit on a word that appealed to all of them, and Nan was whistled for to return.

"Helen, what do you enjoy most in camp life?"

"Teakettles!" was the prompt response.

"Skeeter, did you and Frank get any squirrels yesterday?"

"No, not one! We told them if they would let us shoot them that they could come with us on the picnic--but they said: no teakettles for them!" Indignant cries from Skeeter's chums ensued.

"You came mighty near giving us away, you nut!"

Nan thought a moment.

"Is it pies? Helen certainly enjoys pies, and if the squirrels had come on the picnic it would have been in a pie."

"No; guess again! Guess again!"

"Mother, are you comfortable up there?"

"Yes, my dear; I had no idea one could have an armchair at a teakettle."

"'Picnic!' 'Picnic!' I know that is the word. Mumsy gave it away. You have to go out, mumsy."

"Picnic" was the word and everyone thought Nan very clever to guess it so quickly. Mrs. Carter was loath to leave her leafy bower, so Mr.

Parker gallantly offered to take her place and be "It."

A word was quickly chosen for Mr. Parker although they feared it would be too easy. That gentleman was really enjoying himself very much.

Climbing trees was not much in his line, but he congratulated himself that while his suit no doubt looked perfectly new, it was in reality three years old and was only his eighteenth best. The lapels were a little smaller than the prevailing mode and the coat cut away a bit more than the latest fas.h.i.+on. He could not wear it much longer, anyhow, and in the meantime he was having a very pleasant time. The girls were a ripping lot and he would no doubt have the pleasure of bringing them out in years to come. He might even stretch a point and ask some of them to dance the german with him before they made their debuts. That little Allison girl from the country was a charmer and as for the Tucker twins--the only trouble about them was he could not decide which one would take the better in society. Helen Carter was sure to win in whatever cla.s.s she entered. Douglas Carter had deceived him somewhat.

The evening before, while looking very pretty she had lacked animation.

He had been quite serious in his advice to Mrs. Carter not to bring her out that year. With the scarcity of beaux only a girl who was all animation had any show of having a good time in her debutante year. Now today this girl had thrown off her listlessness and was as full of life as anyone. She was really beautiful. If a complexion could show up as well as hers did in the sunlight what would it not do in artificial light? And her hair! Hair like that could stand the test of dancing all night, and Mr. Hiram G. Parker had found out from long experience that not much hair could stand the test.

"Always coming out of curl and getting limp!" he muttered, but just then they whistled for him and he returned to the tree.

"Ahem! Miss Douglas, are you expecting to miss the boys who have gone to the border with the Blues?"

"Yes, indeed!" blushed Douglas; "but if I were a teakettle it would be even worse."

"Is it a mother? Of course it would be worse if you were a mother! Ah, maybe you have been promising to be a sister to one of them."

Douglas blushed so furiously that she almost fell off her precarious perch.

"'Mother' isn't the word--neither is 'sister'!" shouted the crowd.

"Guess again!"

"Miss Dum Tucker, are you going to remain long in camp?"

"I am afraid I shall have to leave on Monday, but if the teakettle fancier is no longer here, I don't believe I should care to remain."

"Teakettle fancier! Sounds like spinsters. I can't see what it is. Miss Dee, what are these teakettles like?"

"There are as many styles of teakettles as there are teakettles, tall and narrow, short and squat, with snouts of all shapes."

"Heavens! Still no light on the subject! Tucker, what is your opinion of the war? Will it last much longer?"

"I hope not, although I hear it is an excellent way to dispose of last year's teakettles. They are using so many of them in the Red Cross service."