“On the ringing of the bell,” came the announcement at supper, “each klondike must present a ‘stunt’ at the club house. Twenty minutes now to get up the performance. See who will have the best.” The smiling face of the head councillor indicated her confidence in her girls. She knew that they had plenty of interesting ideas in their heads and expected a good entertainment.
“Mercy,” said Virgie, “I couldn’t think up anything in twenty minutes, let alone get it ready!”
“O, yes we can,” said Isabel, “come on. Some of the old girls will know what they do here.”
There was hurrying and scurrying to klondikes and much laughter with the thinking and planning. “Suppose we think up the same thing some other klondike does,” suggested Marion, as she walked from supper with Frances. “O, we never do; don’t worry,” Frances replied.
Patty West had been transferred to Squirrels’ Inn in some shifting of councillors, and to her the girls of that klondike rushed. Patty was already racking her brains, she asserted, but so far nothing had occurred to her.
“I tell you what I have, Miss Patty,” said Cathalina, “something that Ann Maria said the girls at her school acted out one time and Mother was so amused, for she and her cousins used to do it,—I think it came out in the St. Nicholas or something when she was a girl, or maybe she found it in the old magazines at home. Anyway it is just an old poem called ‘The Ballad of Mary Jane’. Of course, we can’t learn it, but one of us can read it and the rest can take the parts and act it out, in pantomime.”
A brief rehearsal with a quick assembling of costumes and other necessary articles was all that was possible. Miss West was to do the reading, while Cathalina, who was familiar with the poem, was to be stage director, send on the actors at the proper time, cause the pasteboard sun to rise, and do the various duties connected with her position. Other klondikes were in the same state of interesting hurry. Fortunately the ringing of the bell was delayed a little, but by twenty minutes of eight, rows of big and little girls, the little ones in front, sat facing the “stage” of the club house. This was the little room or den at one end of the assembly room. Its walls extended only a short way, to indicate division of a sort, and a curtain could be drawn across if desired. Curtains were usually made from two sheets or two big blankets hastily hemmed to permit a rope to be drawn through, the rope then fastened to hooks or nails.
The audience was composed of those who did not take part in the actual performance presented by their group, or who would not be called on for some time. Clapping of hands indicated some impatience.
“Lights out!” called some one, and the switch for the main room was turned off. As the lights in the little room had not been turned on, all was in total darkness. Flashlights began to be turned on and brought a protest from the stage.
“Turn off your flashes! Don’t you know we hadn’t time to put up a curtain, and have to fix the stage? Please, girls.” These were the little folks from Laugh-a-lot and Little Content whose “stunt” came first.