THE P. U. L.
“What upon earth are you doing!” exclaimed Toinette, as she opened Ruth’s door, in response to the “come in” which followed her knock, and stood transfixed upon the threshold at the spectacle she beheld.
“Cleaning house, to be sure. Didn’t you ever do it?”
“Well, not exactly that way,” was Toinette’s reply.
Ruth threw back her head and gave a merry peal of laughter.
“It is rather a novel way, I will admit, but, you see, I hate to do things just exactly as everybody else does, so I sailed right in, head over ears. To tell the truth, now I’m in, I wish it wasn’t quite so deep,” and Ruth cast a look strongly savoring of despair at the conglomeration surrounding her.
She was seated in the middle of the floor, and almost buried beneath the contents of every drawer and closet in the room. Not only her own, but Edith’s belongings, too, had been dumped in a promiscuous heap on the floor, and such a sea of underclothing, stockings, shoes, dresses, waists, jackets, coats, hats, gloves, collars, ties, ribbons, veils, dressing-sacques, golf-capes and belts, to say nothing of the contents of both their jewel boxes, no pen can describe.
Not content with the contents, the drawers, too, had been dragged out to be dusted, and were standing on end all about her, a veritable rampart of defence.
“I shouldn’t think you would know where to begin,” said Toinette.
“I don’t, and I think I’ll leave the whole mess for Helma to tidy up in the morning,” and up jumped Ruth, to give the last stroke to the disorder by overturning the tray of pins and hairpins which she had been sorting when Toinette entered.
“There, now you have done it!” exclaimed Edith, “and I can tell you one thing, you may just as well make up your mind to put my things back where you got them, ’cause I’m not going to,” and she wagged her head positively.
“Oh, dear me, this is what comes of trying to be a P. U. L.,” said Ruth.
“A P. U. L.?” asked Toinette. “What in the world is that?”
“That’s what it is! I found it stuck up in my room when I got back from recitations to-day. I’ve been in such a tear of a hurry for the last few mornings that my room hasn’t been quite up to the mark, I suppose, but Miss Preston never said a word, and now here’s this thing stuck here.”
Toinette took the sheet of paper which Ruth handed to her, and began to read:
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THE PICK-UP LEAGUE Do you wish to join the P. U. L.? Then listen to this, but don’t you tell, For it’s a great secret, and will be—well— We hope, as potent as “book and bell.” A P. U. L. has a place for her hat, And keeps it there; O wonder of that! Her gloves are put away in their case; Her coat hung up with a charming grace. School-books and papers are laid away, To be quickly found on the following day. Then, ere she starts, so blithe and gay, She tarries a moment just to say: “Wait, just a jiff, while I stop to put This blessed gown on its proper hook, And tuck this ‘nightie’ snugly from sight Under my pillow for to-night. “And all these little, kinky hairs, Which, though so frail, can prove such snares, And furnish some one a chance to say: ‘Your comb and brush were not cleaned to-day.’ “Hair ribbons, trinkets, scraps and bits, Papers and pencils and torn snips, Left scattered about can prove such pits! And in we tumble, and just ‘catch fits.’ “And this is the reason we formed the league, And will keep its rules, you had better believe: To keep our rooms tidy, to keep things neat, So much that is ‘bitter’ may be turned ‘sweet.’” |
“DO YOU WISH TO JOIN THE P. U. L.?”
When she had finished reading, she sat down on the edge of the bed and laughed till she cried.
“Great, isn’t it?” asked Ruth. “That’s the way Miss Preston brings us up to schedule time. When I came home from the school-building this afternoon I thought I’d do wonders; and,” she added, ruefully, “I guess I’ve done them. Good gracious, I’m so hungry from working so hard that I just can’t see straight. Isn’t there something eatable in the establishment?”
“If that much work reduces you to a state of starvation, what will you be when it’s all done?” asked Edith. “There were some crackers on the shelf, but land knows where they are now; you’ve dragged every blessed thing off of it.”
“There are your crackers, right under your nose,” said Ruth, triumphantly, as she pointed to a box of wafers half hidden under Edith’s best hat. “There’s some tea in that caddy, and you can heat some water in the kettle. What more do you want?”
Edith scratched a match and held it to the little alcohol lamp under the tea-kettle, but no flame resulted.
“Every bit of alcohol is burned out. Have you any more?”
“Not a drop; used the last to get the pine-gum off my fingers after we came back from the woods last Tuesday. Here, take the cologne, that will do just as well,” and forthwith the cologne was poured into the lamp, which was soon burning away right merrily. The water was heated, the tea made, and four girls sat down in the midst of the topsy-turvy room to sip tea and munch saltines.
“I came in to ask,” said Toinette, “whether you girls have any secret societies in this school; have you?”
“Nary one, as I know of,” answered the irrepressible Ruth. “Wish we had.”
“Let’s start one,” said Toinette. “We had two or three at Miss Carter’s; they had to be secret or none at all, and it was no end of fun. Papa wrote me that he was going to send me a box of good things before long, and when it comes let’s meet that night and have a feast. He will no doubt send enough for the entire school, he always does, and I want some of the girls to have the benefit of it.”
“Don’t believe you will have to urge them very hard,” said Edith, laughing.
“Good!” cried Ruth. “Which girls shall we ask?”
Toinette named eight girls beside themselves, saying:
“That will make an even dozen to start with. More may come later, but that is enough to begin; don’t you think so?”
“Plenty. If we have too many there will be sure to be someone to let the cat out of the bag. Come on, Cicely, let’s go hunt the others up,” and, leaving Toinette and Edith in the orderly (?) room, off they flew.