"I will help you, of course, if you wish, but a Camp Girl should be able to do such things for herself. Now you watch me do mine. While you are watching, give your own hair a good brushing."
Harriet parted her hair in the middle in a very straight line, divided it into four strands, which she wound into as many soft coils, two at the nape of the neck and one on each side half concealing her ears. She pinned it securely, then with artistic precision fluffed a few locks of hair about her temples.
"There!" she said, turning a smiling face to her little companion who had been observing her admiringly.
"I couldn't do that with my hair."
"I know that, dear. Your hair is not as thick as mine. Now let me see what you can do with yours. It looks better now that you have brushed it out."
Tommy arranged herself before a mirror. She braided her light hair tightly into a pig-tail, tying it about half way up with a black ribbon. Stray ends, like the unraveled strands of a rope were left stringing down over her ears, giving to her face a more impish expression than it had worn before. She turned from the mirror in which she had been admiring her handiwork, to meet the laughing eyes of her companion.
"How do you like me?"
"Oh, I don't know. At least it looks better than it did."
"Fine, ithn't it? Crathy Jane'th hair never looked tho well ath that. But thith dreth ith a little too thombre for one of my age, don't you think?" questioned Tommy wisely.
"I think they will forget all about the sombreness of the dress when they see your happy face," answered Harriet. "Besides, it is the dress that all the girls here are wearing. I call it a very pretty uniform. I hope Margery had the buttons sewed securely on hers. If not she will burst them all off the first time she stoops over."