“Tommy! Tom! Come back and tell us!” called his sister.
“Can’t!” shouted Tom down the stairs. “You’ll find out in time—you’re going to need ’em, that’s all!”
“What on earth do you suppose he means?” wondered Helen, as the last glimpse of Tom’s khaki-clad form vanished up the stairs.
Winnie laughed as she finished off a seam.
“I don’t believe it meant anything,” she said. “Tom’s always trying to get up excitements.”
“I think it means something!” said Louise, beginning to take out bastings. She was the best seamstress of the three, and consequently was done first. “Here, Helen, let me finish that sleeve for you while you do the other one.”
She took up the sleeve, and jumped up and began to dance with the sleeve for a partner.
Something’s goin’ to happen, honey,
Happen, honey, happen mighty soon!
“Oh, thank you!” said Helen gratefully, referring not to the song and dance, but to the aid. She hated sewing, and nothing but the Camp Fire requirements would ever have made her persevere till her gown was done. Winnie did not mind sewing one way or the other, and by a queer contradiction harum-scarum Louise loved it.
The girls worked on, and discussed on. Winnie was sure Tom meant nothing, and the others were just as sure that he had some reason for saying what he had.