Again Blue Bonnet went off into peals of laughter.
"—a man came out and had the audacity to sing:
"'I am so fond of violets.'
"Imagine! Why, the Harvard men didn't let him finish the first line before they had him off the stage—"
"Mobbed him?" Sarah gasped.
"Call it what you like. I don't think they injured him, for he came back and sang Harvard songs—nothing else; sang like an angel, too."
"Oh, but you were in luck, Blue Bonnet," Kitty sighed. "I could die happy if I'd had your chance."
"It does make you feel that way, Kitty. I can see myself telling my grandchildren about that game. It's almost like an inheritance, something you can pass along. I've cut out all the notices from the papers and kept the literature they passed around. Now, I think I've told you every blessed thing. Would you all like to come up-stairs and see my new clothes?"
There was an immediate rush for Blue Bonnet's room.
Miss Clyde wondered an hour later, when she rapped at the door and glanced in, if the place would ever again take on its natural shape and order. Bureau drawers yawned; furniture was pulled about; the window-seat held a mass of underwear, shoes and dresses; but the faces of the We Are Sevens reflected pride and approval.