The Three R’s were early comers and late stayers. Before the summer twilight was over, they had gathered in force. Alice, counting, suddenly said:
“Why, there are just forty-nine. Wouldn’t it be fun if just one more should come?”
“Who isn’t here?” asked some one. “Perhaps 262 there will be one other, though almost everybody has come.”
“The Judge himself isn’t here yet,” said Dr. Harlow. “He’ll make the fiftieth. There he is! Let’s line up, and give him a royal welcome!”
The suggestion “took,” and the little judge came up the walk, bowing on all sides, and smiling. As he reached the door and shook hands with Dr. Harlow and Dr. Helen, he looked about him peeringly. “Where’s my girl?” he asked.
“Here I am,” said Catherine, “and here is a little souvenir for you, Judge Arthur, with wishes for many returns of the day.” She presented with a flourish, a huge feather duster adorned with a great green bow. That was the signal and the others at once produced parcels of all sizes and shapes, and bestowed them upon the judge, who opened them under a rapid fire of friendly wit.
The special form of recreation offered for the evening was called “Strange Compounds.” Catherine had taken the idea from the nonsense verses which had been spreading over the country as generally as the limericks of a few years before. The guests grouped themselves at little tables, and some, with shears and pages cut from old natural histories, geographies or poultry and live stock journals, created grotesque illustrations for the verses descriptive of the hippopotamustang and the kangarooster and other strange beasts which 263 Catherine and Alice concocted during the afternoon. Others labored over historical combinations and the deeds of Bathrobespierre were sung in limpid strains, and the plaintive history of Old Black Joan of Archæology set every one off into a gale of mirth. The Three R’s had done so many foolish things together in the many years since their beginning as a club, that they were ready to laugh before a joke was thought of, and in that atmosphere of appreciation the frailest wit was bound to flourish. Mrs. Osgood headed a party of gardeners whose attempts at grafting produced such startling results as cro-custards and gerani-umbrellas. When some one requested help in developing the theme of a disaster, Judge Arthur shouted from the animal table that he had attempted to draw a wild-cat-astrophe and the picture would probably do for both!
Just in time to save them all from mental collapse, the white-gowned maidens brought in the dainty salad, sandwiches and cups of fragrant coffee. Then the noble birthday cake, wreathed in scarlet flame, was set before the judge, the candles blown out with good wishes, and the cake cut and served with the ice.
Dr. Harlow rose to announce that the prize for the most complete compound was given to Mr. Kittredge, who had conceived of a “pigeon-toad, with a lovely long dove-tail, and a pot-pied waistcoat 264 ringed and streaked, and a sweet dove-cot-ton veil.” Frieda and Hannah came solemnly into the room, bearing a crate, from the top of which appeared the head of a rooster, with a big bow of ribbon around its neck. They set it down before the minister amid the shouts of the assembled company.