The term “sawney” in the lumber camps and upon the Great Lakes, means tyro, or novice. These girls had picked up the phrase from their brothers, without doubt. Bess thought it a particularly objectionable name.
“First of all,” said the girl in the pillowslip, “they must join our procession and march as shall be directed. Fall in, sawneys, behind the first two guards. Refuse at your peril!”
Nan’s mind was already made up. This was only fun—it was a great game of ridicule. To refuse to join in the sport would mark her and Bess for further, and future, punishment.
Before her chum could object, Nan seized her and ran her right into line ahead of the red-haired girl and her companion.
“Ready! March!” commanded the masked girl.
“Hold on!” objected Laura Polk. “These two sawneys ought to be made to eat their lunch.”
Bess fairly snorted, she was so angry. But Nan would not let her pull away. She cried, before her chum could say anything:
“Oh! we promise to eat it all before we go to bed.”
“That will do,” declared the leader. “Be still, Polk. March!”
Against her will at first, then because she did not know what else to do, Bess Harley went along beside her chum. “The Procession of the Sawneys”—quite a famous institution, by the way, at Lakeview Hall—was begun.