"Assembly? I don't believe I quite understand."
"On her bugle, you know. It's so pretty, and we did that way at home if we wanted to bring the bunch together in a hurry."
"Well, I'm learning something new every minute, I believe. Yes, sound your bugle call, Polly, and be sure I shall be on the qui vive to hear it. Before we know it we shall have a girls' military school."
"Oh, wouldn't it be perfectly splendid if we only could and all wear brass buttons!" cried Rosalie.
"I think some of the discipline would be splendid for all of us, and especially the spirit of the thing," answered Stella. "The trouble with most girls lies in the fact that they don't know how to work together. There isn't much class spirit, or coöperation. Maybe if we tried some of the methods Peggy and Polly seem to know so much about we'd come closer together."
"Team work, I guess you mean," said Polly quickly. "It means a whole lot."
Sharply at four the staccato notes of "Assembly" rang across the terrace as Polly sounded the call upon her bugle. The girls came hurrying from every direction and the ensuing hour and a half, usually free for recreation, was cheerfully given over to study. Dinner was served at six and at seven-thirty the revels began.
At Peggy's suggestion a part of the afternoon had been devoted to devising costumes out of anything at hand, for a fancy dress party had been hastily decided upon. As a result of this some unique and original Hallow E'en sprites, nymphs, dryads or witches foregathered in the big laundry, "cleared for action," Polly said, and two or three aroused little cries of admiration.
Peggy was a dryad. She had rushed away to the woods on Shashai to return with her mount buried from sight in autumn leaves. The dark, rich reds of the oaks, the deep yellow of the beeches, the dogwood's and maple's gorgeous variations and the sweet-gums blood red mingled in a bewildering confusion of color. Stripping the leaves from the twigs she proceeded to sew them upon a plain linen gown, and the result was exquisite, for not a vestige of the fabric remained visible, and Peggy's piquant, rich coloring peeped from a garment of living, burning color. She herself was the only one who did not fully appreciate the picture she presented.
Polly's costume was a character from one of the children's pages in a Sunday newspaper. The entire costume was made of newspapers, with "The Yellow Kid" much in evidence, Polly's tawny hair lending itself well to the color scheme.