“Correct, go to the head. Some of the Western girls say ‘wahteh’, so flat.”
“Not many of us,” said Virgie; “besides, we say wawter, not ‘wawteh’.”
“I don’t see the difference,” said Marion.
The after-dinner rest hour found some of the girls reading, some napping, and others getting costumes ready for the evening. A few declared that it was too much trouble to get up anything special. “I’m just going to wear my linen camp suit,” said one of the girls in Isabel’s klondike.
“We were told not to wear real party dresses, only simple summer dresses.”
“O, I borrowed Marjorie’s pink georgette with lovely little flowers on it! Marjorie wanted me to.”
“You may as well take it back, then, and put on one of your own frocks; don’t you remember the head councillor said ‘no borrowing’ of good things?”
Helen Paget was going as Burnt Jacket, the Indian whose wet jacket, hung too near his camp fire on the island, had given it its name. Hilary was to be his Indian maid. Isabel was to be a pirate, and borrowed “Mother Nature’s” rubber boots, to be decorated with red paper.
“I don’t know whether Captain Kidd wore boots, or not, but I should think he would,” said she.
A dangerous looking cutlass was made from a long curved stick, a pasteboard handle attached. A cardboard knife was covered with tin foil, which did not prove very durable when the knife was brandished in Isabel’s most ferocious style.