“I went right down over a tent-pole,” explained Lilian, appearing to speak for herself. She was indeed badly torn, not to speak of the fact that she was limping a little. Her bonnet and veil—a green mosquito-netting veil—were wrecked—and she had managed to muddy herself thoroughly, too.
“You certainly made a thorough job of it!” exclaimed Marie. “But oh, Mrs. Bryan, what shall I do? I’ve been talking about her all the evening—leading up to her. She’s the keystone of the whole performance.”
“It would be a case of Hamlet with Hamlet left out without her, then, would it?” queried Mrs. Bryan. “My dear, I don’t know what to say. If Lilian were damaged somebody else could supply her place, but we haven’t any understudy for Lilian’s clothes!”
“There’s only one thing to do,” offered Winona, coming over from a group of girls. “Have her go on anyway, Marie, and make up something to explain why she looks so funny. Explain why she’s so torn and crumpled—make a joke of it, so they’ll think it was all on purpose.”
“Winnie, you’re the pride of my life!” vowed Marie. “I’ll have to do just that. It will be hard,” she added doubtfully.
“Oh, no, it won’t,” and Winona laughed reassuringly, “you’re the cleverest one of us, and if you can’t make up some reason why Betsy Bobbet looks mussed, nobody can. Now go on out and do it.”
She gave her a little push.
“Ray-of-Light, you’re a dear!” Marie said affectionately as she turned and went out. “Put Lilian in the frame just as she is, please,” she said. “I think I can manage it.”
Lilian laughed a little at the idea of displaying herself to two hundred summer people looking as if she had come out of a subway accident, but she got into position like the good-natured girl she was, and Marie heard the little bell and began to make her impromptu explanation.
“My friend, Betsy Bobbet, she’s a considerable kind of a curis person,” she said. “She’s sorter sentimental, an’ sometimes she’s too impulsive. Now, just before she had this daguerrotype took that I’m goin’ to show you, she was writin’ a pome to the Muse. This is how it went: