“And you brought food for the hungry family——” Vicky’s eye fell on the large basket which Louise still held stiffly before her. “Oh, oh, oh! And Uncle Will’s pride, Sandy’s hair, that he made a picture of that sold for ever so much money—oh, my goodness gracious!”
She and Winona both began to laugh again. Louise didn’t. She stood against the wall like a wax statue.
“It certainly is funny,” said Vicky at last, mopping her eyes, “but I’m good and glad about Sandy’s hair. It was an awful nuisance to take care of, and Uncle Will would keep it that way so he could paint pictures of it. Won’t you stay and have some breakfast? We have a cook.”
“No, thank you,” said Louise hurriedly, “we’ve had our breakfast.”
“What an awful noise, children!” said a voice; and a rather rumpled man appeared. He had an absent look, and also gave an impression of not having been to bed all night. He had a paint-brush in his hand.
Vicky and Sandy sprang for him, hanging to him.
“Oh, Uncle Will, this is two Camp Fire girls,” said Sandy. “They cutted my hair when I was lost. Ain’t it cute?”
“Oh!” said Uncle Will, and looked as aghast as Louise had. “How did this accident happen?”
“It wasn’t an accident,” said Sandy. “Louise boxed my head, an’ gived me two baths!”
Uncle Will—so far as the girls learned that was all the name he had—uttered another faint exclamation. Then he dived back into his room as if he wanted to bear the shock alone.