Two days later there was another excited meeting of the LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS.
“Our fortune’s made!” shrieked Agony joyfully, dancing around the room and waving a Japanese umbrella over her head.
“Why? How?” we all cried.
“The fad! The fad!” shouted Agony.
“What fad?” I asked. “Do stop capering, Agony, and put down that umbrella before you break the lamp shade. We’ve smashed three already this year.”
“Don’t you see,” continued Agony, breathless, dropping down on the bed and fanning herself with the handle of the umbrella. “Hinpoha’s started a fad with that painted jewelry—blessings on that fool notion of hers of painting a band on her neck, anyway! Half a dozen girls came to classes this morning with bands painted on their necks and ornaments in front that they’d gotten Sally to paint for them. In another day the whole college will be after her to paint ornaments on their necks. Don’t you see what I mean? We’ve got to join forces with Sally, set up in business for the Benefit of the Red Cross—and the cup is ours. Whoop-la! Oh, girls, don’t you see!”
We saw, all right. Inside of two minutes Sally was voted a member of the LAST OF THE WINNEBAGOS and in a few hours business was in full swing. Sally, of course, was the star of the cast, but the rest of us worked just as hard as press agents. We placarded the whole college with posters announcing that Mme. Sallie Prindle, the distinguished painter of jewelry, would create, for the benefit of the Red Cross, any combination of precious stones desired by the paintee—charges twenty-five cents and up. Students were urged to show their patriotism by appearing in classroom adorned with one of the masterpieces of the above-mentioned Prindle.
It was a success from the word go. The fad spread like wildfire, and Sally spent all her waking hours that were not actually taken up with recitations painting jewelry on fair necks and arms. Lessons were almost forgotten in the fascinating business of admiring designs and comparing effects, and many were the wails because the wonderful things had to be washed off all too soon. We had offered our room as studio because Sally’s was too far away from the center of things, and most of the time it was so crowded with eager customers that we couldn’t get in ourselves. Prices rose as business increased, and the candy box we were using for a bank showed signs of collapsing.
The next week the juniors gave a dance and they all ordered dog collars for the occasion. Everybody else had to stand aside. Prices for these were to be one dollar and up, according to how elaborate they were. How Sally ever got them all on without fainting in her tracks will always be a mystery. She did a lot of them the night before and then the girls wound their necks with gauze bandages to keep them clean. Miss Allison, who dropped in during the performance, folded up on the bed and laughed until she was weak.
“I never saw anything to equal it, never,” she declared. “There’s never been such a fad in the history of the college.” Then she sat up and demanded a dog collar herself.