“I hope I do,” said Katherine with a sigh. “I’ve 213 spent most of the week sewing on buttons. But my hair is absolutely hopeless,” and she shook the fringe back out of her eyes viciously.
“Let me do it for you some day,” said Gladys, “and I’ll see what can be done with those loose ends.”
“All right,” said Katherine wearily, and they went down the path together.
“We won’t have time to go out in a canoe,” said Gladys when they reached the beach. “Here comes the launch back from St. Pierre with the mail.”
“I wonder if there’s a letter for me,” said Katherine rather wistfully. “I haven’t had a word from father and mother for three weeks.” And she hopefully joined the throng that stood with outstretched hands around the pack of letters Uncle Teddy was holding out of reach above his head.
“Oh, I say,” he begged, “can’t you wait a minute until I show you my newest treasure? If I give you your letters first you’ll all sneak off into corners and read them and then you never will look at it.”
“What is it?” cried an eager chorus, for it must be something splendid that would delay the distribution of the mail.
Uncle Teddy opened a carefully packed box and drew forth an exceedingly fine camera, which he exhibited with all the pride of a boy. “I’ve had my heart set on this little machine for years,” he said happily, “but I’ve never had the two hundred dollars 214 to spend for it. But now a wealthy gentleman whom I guided on a canoe trip last May and whom I was able to render some slight service when he was taken ill in the woods, has made me a present of it. Did you ever hear of such generosity?”
He did not mention the fact that the “slight service” had consisted of carrying the sick man on his back for fifteen miles through the woods.
The boys and girls looked at the camera with awe and were half afraid to touch it. A thing that had cost two hundred dollars was not to be handled lightly.