CAPS AND CAPERS
The eight girls were quickly gathered in Ruth’s and Edith’s room and listening eagerly to the scheme afoot. It need not be added that it was unanimously carried, and it was only necessary to choose a name for the society.
“Let’s all wear masks and caps and cut all sorts of capers. It will be just no end of fun,” cried Ethel Squire, a pretty, bright girl of fifteen who was always ready for a frolic.
“Splendid!” cried Toinette, “and Ethel has given me a fine idea for a name; let’s call it the C. C. C.”
“C. C. C.? What under the sun does that stand for?” asked Helen Burgess, a quiet, serene little body, and a general favorite with the other girls.
“Guess,” said Toinette.
“Cuffs and Collars Club,” said May Foster; “mine cause me more trouble than all the rest of my toilet, so they are never far from my thoughts.”
“Cake and Cackle Club,” said another.
“Cheese and Cider; a delicious combination when you’ve acquired a taste for them!” said Marie Taylor.
“Clandestine Carnivori,” was the last guess, which raised a shout.
“Good gracious! let me tell you quickly before you exhaust the dictionary,” laughed Toinette; “how will the Caps and Capers Club do?”
“Hurrah!” cried Ruth, “just the very thing. We’ll all wear our bath-robes and white caps and masks. I’ve loads of white crepe paper, which will be the very thing to make them of, so let’s sit down and make them right away. Come on, girls, help clear up this mess, and then I’ll find the paper. I can give the finishing touches to the closets and bureau drawers to-morrow.”
All turned to with more ardor than skill, and in a very few moments the conglomeration upon the floor had vanished. How it fared with Ruth and Edith when it came time to dress has never been disclosed. However, the room restored to outward order, twelve girls set to work to fashion caps and masks, and, as the last one was completed, the dressing-bell rang and all scattered to prepare for dinner.
The evening hours at Sunny Bank were very pleasant ones, for during the winter, while days were short and nights were long, there was not much opportunity for outdoor diversion. Immediately after dinner Miss Howard, the literature teacher, would place her snug little rocking-chair before the cheerful open fire in the big hall, and the girls would gather about her; some on chairs, some on hassocks, and some curled upon the large fur rug in front of the blazing logs, while she read aloud for an hour. A fine library in Mont Cliff supplied books of every imaginable sort, and the girls were allowed to take turns in selecting them; providing, of course, their selections were wise ones. But with Miss Howard as guide they could not go far astray, and many a delightful hour was passed before the fire. Just at present the books chosen were those relating to English history, and contained good, hard facts, but, when the girls grew a little tired of such substantial diet, historical novels came handy for a relish. As England was cutting a prominent figure in the world just then, the girls were encouraged to keep in touch with the current events, and to talk freely about them. The last book read, at least the one they were just concluding, was one which brought into strong contrast the reigns of England’s two greatest queens, and the subject was discussed in a lively manner.
The book was finished shortly before the hour ended, and, laying it upon her lap, Miss Howard began to ask a few leading questions in order to get the girls started. As always happens, there were some girls not wildly enthusiastic over historical subjects, and such books did not hold their attention as a modern novel filled with thrilling situations would have done. But these were the very ones whom Miss Howard most wished to reach, and, feeling sure that her chances of doing so through such methods were far greater than could be hoped for if she pinned them right down to hard, dry facts, she took infinite pains to make her readings as interesting as much research and a careful selection of books could make them.
The conversation was in full swing, and Miss Howard, in high feather over the very evident impression the book had made, was congratulating herself upon her choice of that particular volume, when one girl asked:
“Miss Howard, what particular act of Elizabeth’s reign do you think had the greatest influence upon later reigns?”
“That is rather a difficult question to answer, Natala. It was such a brilliant reign and so fraught with portentous results in the future that it would be very difficult to say that this or that one act was greatest of all; although, unquestionably, the translation of the Bible was one of the greatest blessings to posterity. Who can tell me something of great interest which happened then?”
“I can!” cried Pauline Holden.
“I’m more than delighted to hear it,” answered Miss Howard, for Pauline was at once her joy and her despair. Affectionate and good-natured to the last degree, she was never disturbed by anything, but I put it very mildly when I say that Pauline did not possess a brilliant mind.
“Yes,” continued Pauline. “There are not many things in history that I care two straws about, but I remembered that because the names made me think of a rhyme my old nurse used to say when she put me to bed.”
“Miss Howard’s hopes received a slight shock, but she asked:
“Will you tell us what it is?”
“It was letting Matthew, Mark, Luke and John out,” triumphantly.
“Letting whom out?” asked Miss Howard, wondering what upon earth was to follow.
“Yes, don’t you remember they let them out during Elizabeth’s reign?”
“Let them out of where?”
“Why, out of the Tower, to be sure, and it made such a difference in a history some man was writing just then, because they had had a lot to do with it somehow—I don’t remember just what it was. Maybe one of the other girls can.”
By this time all the other girls were nearly dying of suppressed laughter, and when poor Pauline turned to them so seriously it proved the last straw, and such a shout as greeted her fairly made the wall ring. It was too much for Miss Howard, and, with one last look of despair, she gave way and laughed till she cried.
When the laugh had subsided and they had recovered their breath, Miss Howard endeavored to explain to the brilliant expounder of English history that Queen Elizabeth had had more to do with keeping Matthew, Mark, Luke and John out of the Bible than in the Tower of London.