They were met at the shore before they landed by two girls with decorated “tags” which they were asked to buy for the hospital fund.
“And for mercy’s sake buy from me and Mabel and nobody else,” begged Jennie Pell. “This party is going awfully slow. There haven’t a dozen people come yet, except those who are working. Mrs. Ringold gave us each a hundred tags and said we were expected to sell them all at fifty cents each.”
“We can’t make folks to sell them to,” groaned Mabel Frost, “even if we can make those we solicit, buy. Thanks ever so much, Darry Drew!”
It could not be said that either Darry or Burd Alling was niggardly with his money on this occasion; but the poor girls who had things to sell swooped upon the party from Roselawn like a band of hawks on four helpless chickens.
“You can’t blame ’em,” said Jessie. “There’s not a handful of people here yet.”
“And it is going to rain again,” declared Amy. “It’s one solemn time—I’ll tell the world!” said Burd. “Look at Belle over there. She’s too unhappy to quarrel.”
That was a misstatement. It was proved later that Belle was quite as quarrelsome as usual. But just then she was busy on the porch of the old house with the radio outfit that had been set up there, and Sally Moon and Mrs. Ringold were with her.
“There is something the matter with that aerial; don’t you think so, Amy?” Jessie said, looking up at the wires stretched from the corner of the house to a distant tree.
“What is wrong with it? Didn’t Monty Shannon get it stretched before he left yesterday?” asked Darry.
“He most certainly did not. And he said he would not come back to help them.”