Millicent bought a bolero jacket, which she put on at once, and catching up the red fez which was Marjorie’s purchase, she perched it sidewise on her saucy head and began to dance a fandango, while Helen played a tinkling air on her banjo.
“He was a funny old chap,” said Nan, looking at the curious little idol she had bought; “let’s write him up in the ‘Whitecap.’ ”
“Do,” said Millicent, “and I’ll draw his portrait to illustrate it. He looked like the Ancient Mariner.”
The hint was enough for Nan, and while Millicent drew a startling-looking sketch which the girls declared was exactly like him, the club Poet produced the
RIME OF THE INDIAN PEDDLER
Ye Indian intervieweth ye maids
It is an Ancient In-di-an,
And he stoppeth here by we;
“By thy swarthy face and coal-black hair,
Now wherefore loiter ye?”