Although for several days Hilarity Hall was in a most chaotic state of preparation, and although it seemed as if order never could come of it, yet on Friday evening at seven o’clock everything was in complete readiness.
Helen’s banjo music was augmented by the two Hillis boys, Frank and Raymond, one of whom played the banjo and the other the mandolin.
They were nice boys, and when Aunt Molly invited them to play for the Hilarity Hall girls they were more than pleased.
The girls liked it too, especially Marguerite and Jessie, who immediately assumed the coy and bewitching airs which they thought the occasion demanded.
“But why so many chairs?” asked Marjorie, as Uncle Ned brought over more and more from his own cottage, and Aunt Molly placed them in compact rows in the parlor.
“Don’t ask questions, miss,” said her uncle. “You left the invitation of an audience to your charming and capable aunt, and now ’tis yours not to make reply, yours not to wonder why, but run along and don that fetching costume in which you’re to dazzle the eyes of this large and imposing audience.”
“Imposed-on audience you mean, Uncle Ned,” said Marjorie, as she danced away.
The Blue Ribbon Club had a uniform, which they had concluded to wear in their play. It was a plain gown of soft light-gray material, with a ruffled white muslin kerchief. A picturesque effect was gained by a hooded cape of the gray lined with pink.
Marguerite declared that Aunt Molly was an honorary member of the club, and she must have a uniform too. So one was made for her, and the nine ladies made a pretty picture in the nun-like garb.
At last all was in readiness, and the audience was beginning to arrive.