Louise was as good as her word. She was back in a very few minutes, and in Winona’s room again. She found her friend standing in the middle of the floor, her dress exactly what it had been when she left.
“Better hurry,” warned Louise. “We haven’t overmuch time.”
“Hurry!” said Winona despairingly. “How can I? Do you know what I’ve done? I’ve hung away every single thin dress I own in the wardrobe, instead of putting them in the wash. I knew there was something I’d forgotten, and I couldn’t think what it was.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” said Louise. “You’ll have to put on something gorgeous, to match the boys’ clothes.”
“What can I do?” asked Winona sadly, and swung open the doors of her wardrobe. There, crumpled, forlorn, dejected, hung a line of dresses each hopelessly past wearing in its present state.
“Isn’t that a nice trick for a Camp Fire Girl?” inquired Winona scornfully. “It’s the kind of thing you’d lecture a Blue Bird kindly but firmly for doing, and make her see what a wreck she was going to make of her whole life if she kept on.”
“Never mind,” said Louise soothingly. “You’ve had so many other things to do, it’s no wonder you couldn’t remember that. Haven’t you anything but wash dresses? Where’s your yellow silk voile?”
“I did remember that!” said Winona with a reluctant grin. “I sent it to the cleaner’s day before yesterday. It won’t be done till Saturday.”
“What about your flowered dimity? Is all the freshness out of that? You don’t wear it often.”
“I sent for it from camp, for one of the girls to use in the Samantha tableaux, and the girl still has it, I suppose. She never gave it back. I forgot to ask for it, in the hurry of getting home. There’s no use trying to think. I’ve thought and thought, and everything else is too hot to wear, or soiled. There’s nothing for it but a shirtwaist and skirt.”