“It was mean to name her that,” Helen declared as they went down the lane.
“Maybe it was before there were machine victrolas, and her mother just thought it was pretty,” suggested Louise. “The other children have fancy names, too; Alexandra and Lance. Remember Vicky told us there was a boy named Lancelot, the day we went up?”
“To return your orphan?” said Winona. “Oh, yes—we all remember. Never mind, Ishkoodah dear, perhaps next time you’ll find a real one.”
“Wouldn’t it be fine if Camp Karonya could look after some little girl—one of the Children’s Aid children, for instance?” said Helen thoughtfully.
“It would take a good deal of money,” spoke practical Louise, “if we didn’t one of us have it in the family.”
“Not such a lot,” said Winona. “Oh, it would be lovely! A nice little orphan with blue eyes and curly hair, and we’d name her ourselves——”
“We’d call her Gramophone!” suggested Louise; and, tired as they were, they all began to laugh. But by this time they were nearly at the house the machine’s namesake had directed them to, and it was the right one.
The owner had a fairly good victrola and six double-faced records, and she finally consented to let it go for twenty dollars. The girls paid down the money on the spot, and constructed a carrier for it out of two pieces of board which the machine’s owner threw in.
There were no adventures whatever connected with this end of the happening. Helen took the front end and Louise the back, and Winona steadied it. Then they set it down, after they had walked awhile, and changed places. It seemed rather a long way home, and they were exceedingly glad when they reached camp—that was all. Their sympathetic comrades attended to their routine duties for them, and all the adventurers had to do was to lie on the grass and tell about their travels—everything, that is, but Victrola’s name and her grief over it.
After supper the whole camp assembled to enjoy the machine, and danced to everything on its disc, even the sextette from Lucia, given as a vocal selection. But Louise did not do any folk-dances that night. She was so tired that she curled up on a soft spot and fed the machine till it was time to go to bed.