"Now we're all agreed, are we, that this play is what we want to present?" the president said, rapping for order. "Shall we vote on it?"
A hearty affirmative settled the matter.
"Very well. The duty of making it the best ever given in the school rests with the cast. I am at your service at all times. We shall now adjourn to meet to-morrow afternoon at five o'clock and continue the arrangements."
The next three weeks were the busiest that Blue Bonnet had known since her entrance to the school. Lessons grew in length and importance. There were endless themes to write in English; mathematics became more and more enigmatical; music more difficult. In addition to this were rehearsals for the play.
"I feel as if I were being driven," Blue Bonnet said one day to Sue Hemphill, disconsolately. "Would you mind hearing me say my lines, Sue? I think I almost have them. I'll begin at my second entrance. I'm sure I know up to there perfectly. I don't know what ever made me take this part. I'm sure to forget at a critical moment."
But whatever Blue Bonnet's doubts may have been, the rest of the cast had no fears for their star. For them she shone brilliantly, and promised, so Wee declared,—and Wee's judgment was never questioned,—to be the "hit" of the evening.
The days leading up to the performance were strenuous indeed. All the Juniors had been pressed into service. They scurried through halls; darted in and out of rooms laden with draperies, gowns and furniture, mum as sphinxes, spry as crickets.
The day of the Junior spread dawned at last. A wonderful day the first week in May. The gymnasium had been transformed into a bower of beauty. Pine-trees—huge banks of them—concealed the walls, giving an idea of a forest with marvelous effect. Wondrous fountains, constructed in a day, bubbled and sang; flowers bloomed in profusion; and the long table with its festive decorations, sparkling glass and silver, bespoke a welcome to all beholders.
But it was in the dressing-rooms, behind the scenes and in the wings, that the greatest excitement prevailed. The smell of powder and cold cream filled the air. Sue Hemphill, completely covered with a gingham apron from head to foot, was in her element "making up."
"Don't wiggle so, Blue Bonnet," she commanded, as that young person squirmed under the rigorous treatment she was receiving. "I'll have you looking like a Chinaman in a minute if you don't hold still. I've got to take that eyebrow off—it slants too much. There—that's better! Isn't it, Wee? Wait a minute."