"Come on," she said. "You've got to play, whether you want to or not. How do you do it—Miss—"
"Call me Blue Bonnet."
The girls stood up listlessly—a sorry looking group.
"You can sit down," Blue Bonnet announced. "You don't have to stand—just keep your eyes on me. You are each of you a musical instrument."
She went round and whispered something in the ear of each girl.
"Now, I'm the drum. I stand here and beat. Rub-a-dub-dub! Rub-a-dub-dub—like that. Everybody must try to represent her instrument. Carita, you're a fiddle. Pretend to handle a bow. Isabel, you're a piano. Run your hands up and down as if you were playing a scale.
"Watch me. I beat the drum. When I stop beating and imitate one of your instruments—suppose it is the fiddle—then you stop playing the fiddle, Carita, and begin to beat the drum. If you don't stop instantly, and begin to beat the drum before I call out fiddle, you have to stand up here and take my place. See?"
Before five minutes had passed there was such hilarity in the room that it took several knocks at the door to bring a response.
A thin angular form stood in the doorway, and a stern voice said:
"Young ladies, I haf you to report to Miss North if not this noise stop instantly. Instantly. You understand? I speak not again!"