“Our shoes are rather too good,” said Winona discontentedly, “but you mustn’t ask too much in this world. Pin your hair up, Louise. It’s too red for an Italian, or even a Syrian.”
She managed to secure her own on top under her ’kerchief as she spoke. They were both so brown that they looked like natives of somewhere else, and the dresses were very natural. The long skirts and fastened-up hair made them both look eighteen or twenty—for Winona was as tall as she would ever be, five feet six, and Louise, though shorter, was plump.
“We can buy long earrings at the ten-cent store on our way up,” said Louise. “I always did want to.”
“All right,” said Winona.
“And, for goodness sake, Win, see if you can’t get up some sort of an accent. Italian would be the easiest, I guess.”
“Yes, kinda lady! Sella da fina things—real handa-made!” responded Winona, her white teeth flashing.
Then they came to the Boy Scouts’ camp, and they had to row very softly, and keep as far away from the bank as they could. But luck was still with them, and none of the Scouts happened to be fishing that morning.
“If we’d remembered we might have brought back the mending,” said Louise, with a half-concealed desire to go tell the Scouts about her prospective lark.
“Better not go in there!” said Winona. She had a brother in the camp, and she didn’t care to risk being stopped in mid-career of what promised to be a very fine time. So they rowed down the river till they reached Wampoag, and tied their boat to the dock.
They took out the stretcher, put a suitcase on either end of it and piled the things that were too big for the suitcases in the middle. Then they each took an end and started bravely forth.