“O, you know what I mean, their ancestors, of course.”
“Yes, I’ve been inquiring about all the legends and stories of this place. This used to be heavily wooded, all over the point, and they used to come down and shoot bears, right where this camp is. Dear me, when you get into New England you are where things have happened!”
“Yes, and in the West, too,” reminded loyal Virginia. “We have wild Injun stories there, too, if we haven’t any Captain Kidd.”
“That is what my verses are about, Captain Kidd, If I finish them I may hand them in, though the prize will be for some regular Merrymeeting song, in praise of Merrymeeting, you know, something that will go with yells and celebrations. At least that is what I should think would take the prize, what I would give it for if I were on the committee of councillors. But when I get something into my head I have to finish it, or try to.”
“I’ll help you, Lilian—I’ll make up all the first lines of the couplets and you make the second lines, or whatever lines have to have the rhyme.”
“Aren’t you generous, Virgie!”
“Who’s going to claim the prize if the song you all wrote together wins it?” asked Virginia.
“We haven’t thought that up yet,” replied Betty.
Not long after this conversation the songs were called for and a meeting appointed at the club house to try out the songs previous to the awards by the committee. The songs were to be sung before the assembled campers, preferably by the composer, if not, by the young councillor in charge of the proceedings. Another councillor was at the piano. This method was explained at the beginning.
“There was an unusually large number of songs handed in this year, which is very gratifying to the committee, but will make the choice more difficult. As far as possible the author of the verses, or the klondike, if part or all of the girls have learned them, will sing them here tonight. First we shall have the Laugh-a-lot songs.”