“Nothing perishable,” protested Nancy. “It will be quite suitable, of course. It’s a mountain costume I saw in a French fashion magazine, and it was really intended for an Alpine climber; only it was much fancier. The French lady in the picture wore a lace jabot and high-heeled shoes, and she carried an Alpine stock with a pink bow tied just below the crook.”
“Was the skirt hobble?” demanded Billie.
“It sounds to me like a Little Bo-Peep costume,” put in Mary Price.
“I think one should dress quite quietly on a camping party,” observed Elinor Butler.
Mr. Campbell seized his hat.
“My only advice to you, ladies,” he announced as he reached the door, “is to wear shoes that won’t turn your ankles; skirts that give you plenty of leeway for climbing, and shirts that may be easily washed, because laundries are not abundant in those regions. As for hats,” he finished, “you’ll probably not wear any after the first day, even the latest thing from the Alps trimmed with the tail feather of a pheasant. As for colors, the first time you go camping you’ll probably let your fancy run riot and wear Assyrian purple or crushed strawberry. But the next time, you’ll pass right down the line until you get to brown, because you will know by that time that brown fades brown. If campers had been born wild animals instead of human beings, Nature would surely have provided them with brown coats for utilitarian as well as protective purposes.”
“I thought we could just wear old clothes,” put in Mary Price, doubtfully. “I didn’t know people had costumes made for camping.”
Mr. Campbell thrust his genial, handsome face back into the room.
“Camping clothes are like bathing suits,” he remarked. “After the first wetting or so, they all look alike.”
“I’m sure blue corduroy will last,” cried Nancy. “The man at the store said it was unfadeable.”