“I don’t think much of it, the meter changes,” Betty said critically.
“That’s all right, as long as it doesn’t change in the same verse,” Polly replied. “I think it’s great. Who next?”
“Oh, no more tonight,” Betty groaned, “give me my cracker. I’m starved.”
“No time, there goes the silence bell.” Lois laughed.
“No time? Just watch me,” and Betty put the whole cracker in her mouth at once, and left for her own room.
“Good-night,” Polly and Lois called after her, but she could only nod in response.
The party was at its height. Every age and every country was represented in the costumes. Betsy Rosses, Grace Darlings and Pocahontases abounded among the younger children. And there was every known character from Agrippa of Roman fame, to Queen Victoria, among the upper school. High ruffs danced with ’kerchiefs, and French heels, with sandals. In fact, every one had taken so much interest in their costume that the Seniors and faculty, who were acting as judges, were hard put to find any one particular girl who outshone the rest.
Lois and Betty had drifted off to a corner of the room, during the refreshments. They made a curious picture against the boughs of green that decked the walls. Betty was a stolid Indian maid, from the beaded moccasins to her parted hair, her face was smeared with grease paint, and she had tribal marks all over her forehead and cheeks. Polly looked very efficient in her immaculate nurse’s costume, her hair was parted severely, and she had on a soft white winged cap. Over her uniform she wore a long gray cape. No one had been able to name her, and after the guessing was over she spent her time in explaining, and exalting Florence Nightingale.
As for Lois, Miss Porter was right when she said that she looked like Bastien-Lepage’s picture
of Jeanne d’Arc, and certainly rags became her. She had found a bodice, that laced over a white blouse, and an old patched skirt. Miss Porter had fixed her hair in a soft careless knot, and as she stood beside Polly and Betty, a little tired from the excitement of the evening, there was a far away, dreamy look in her eyes that bespoke the seeing of glorious visions.