“Of course! I forgot. But can’t I blow it earlier than usual? Can’t I blow it at half-past eleven instead of twelve? We can’t do a thing without the boys, and they may not come home until midnight unless we do something desperate. Oh, delight! There’s Don S. D. M. F. H. N., and Phil has found Pancho to help unload.”
“Isn’t it lucky that we decided on the place for Elsie’s tent, and saved it in case she should ever come?” said Bell. “Now Philip and Pancho can set it up whenever they choose. And isn’t it fortunate that we three stayed at home to-day, and refused to fish? now we can plan everything, and then all work together when they come back.”
Meanwhile Polly was tugging at an immense bundle, literally tooth and nail, as she alternated trembling clutches of the fingers with frantic bites at the offending knot.
Like many of her performances, the physical strength expended was out of all proportion to the result produced, and one stroke of Philip’s knife accomplished more than all her ill-directed effort. At length the bundle of awning cloth stood revealed. “Oh, isn’t it beautiful?” she cried, “it will be the very prettiest tent in camp; can’t I blow the horn?”
“Look, mamma,” exclaimed Bell, “it is green and grey, in those pretty broken stripes, and the edge is cut in lovely scollops and bound with green braid. Won’t it look pretty among the trees?”
Aunt Truth came out to join the admiring group.
“O-o-o-h!” screamed Polly. “There comes a piece of the floor. They’ve sent it all made, in three pieces. What fun! We’ll have it all up and ready to sleep in before we blow the horn!”
“And here’s a roll of straw matting,” said Phil, depositing a huge bundle on the ground near the girls. “I’ll cut the rope to save your teeth!”
“Green and white plaid!” exclaimed Bell. “Well! Mrs. Howard did have her wits about her!”
“Oh, do let me blow the horn!” teased the irrepressible Polly.