“The Squaw Girls of Lost Island,” said Sue solemnly.
“Oh, Sue, don’t make fun of it,” said Kate reproachfully as she leaned forward. “I think it will be splendid, Polly. You can count me in, and I’ll bring my kodak along, too, and perpetuate our memory forevermore.”
“Polly,” asked Ruth, suddenly, her brows meeting in a little frown of perplexity. “May I say something, please?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the chairman, promptly, reaching for the lemonade. “Try some of this, though, before you get strenuous.”
“I only want to say that I’m afraid I can’t go, because—” Ruth hesitated.
“Oh, Ruth, you must go,” cried Polly, anxiously. She dreaded long explanations. She knew that Ruth was going to tell right before the girls that it would cost too much, and that she felt it her duty to get ready for her kindergarten training.
Ruth seemed to read her thought as their glance met across the table, and instinctively she shook her head, with its close bands of brown braids, bound around like a laurel crown.
“But we really need you, Ruth,” persisted Polly. “Kate will be the ship’s husband—”
“The what?” laughed Kate. “This is all news to me. Isn’t it just like Polly, girls, to arrange all our destinies, and then placidly break the tidings to us at the last minute.”
“Miss Calvert says I am a born organizer,” Polly declared, decidedly, “and how on earth can one organize if one lets every member have her own way? Ruth, you must go along. As I said before Kate will be the ship’s husband. I notice that no one present has the least idea what that means. I didn’t myself until yesterday. When a ship is in port fitting out for a cruise, the ship’s husband is the person who attends to all repairs, and fits her out for the new voyage. I like it better than steward, don’t you? So I want Kate to manage that part of our club business. Keep an eye on general supplies, and profit and loss, and all that sort of thing. You know what I mean, don’t you, Kate?”