“The meeting is to be held in our living room,” Ed said, pointing outside to a bench made of a tree limb au naturel. “When we have formed our committees and settled on our constitution——”
This last word seemed to give every boy present a sort of agony, for each began to “feel for his constitution,” as if that important part of his physique had been lost in the camp woods.
“I wish you could settle my constitution,” remarked Tom. “Once I get that settled, I don’t care what happens.”
“Now, quit your fooling,” returned Walter. “I have an engagement and I would like to get my housework done. Tom, help yourself to a towel, and be careful not to wipe the plates on a glass towel. You can tell the difference by the border. The dish towel is all border, the center or hole went up on the oil stove, a little trick our stove has—it does not like towels. The proper towel for the glasses is that one with the black line drawn through the middle. The black line is not important, it was put there with a single wipe of the spark plug from the Lassie. Ed did it, very neatly.”
Tom took the towel tossed to him, and, as only a boy can, began to dry the dishes that Walter was piling in front of him. First he patted and rubbed the towel on one side of the dish that lay before him; then he turned the same dish over with a bang and repeated the patting and rubbing on the other side. After that he gave the plate a spin. If it landed right side up he left it so; if the trade-mark showed he counted it a “foul,” and tried the trick again. How boys can get work done that way is always a mystery to girls, who find the same play labor.
“Do I stay for lunch?” Tom asked. “I suppose when a fellow helps with the general housework he is entitled to his ‘keep.’”
“Oh, we would just love to have you,” replied Jack, with mock seriousness, “but the fact is, we are all invited out. We lunch on the Chelton to-day,” and he strutted around with such wide sweeping curves, and twists, that he knocked from the narrow board table every last bit of butter the “Couldn’ts” had in their camp. Gingerly he scooped up the top lump, that lay on the store dish, but the scraps had to be scraped up with the egg turner, and the spot on the floor (they had a board floor in the camp) had to be washed up with the dish water, when Walter finally relinquished that important commodity.
“More careful next time,” commanded Dray. “I’m off to call the meeting. Where’s that dinner bell?”
The “bell,” a very old and very large tray, was found outside under the bench, and with a good strong stick Dray beat it furiously, until it might easily be heard by every camper on the grounds. At the first signal boys came scampering from all directions. Some carried towels—too much excited to drop them in their camps; others dashed through the woods with sweaters on their arms, and reluctant neckties in their fists, for it was early and the campers had scarcely time to make “careful” toilets.
“Grub?” they asked in chorus. “Let us see it? Lead us to it!”