Thomas the “caperer” sat in a corner and “shucked oysters,” as he called it, with his two attendant waiters standing statue-like behind him. It made a very impressive, if rather useless group.
Mrs. Bryan lent a helping hand here and there as it was needed, but in the main she left the guidance of the affair to Winona’s generalship.
“Why, I didn’t know how easy it was to have people do things!” Winona whispered to the Guardian, when that lady came over to her once to advise a little more butter in the gravy.
“You happen to have executive ability, that’s all,” explained Mrs. Bryan.
Winona laughed. “Oh, it doesn’t take executive ability when people want to help!” she returned gayly.
The boys got back in just forty-five minutes, with rather dirtier uniforms than they had taken away. They were panting, also, and had a general cheerful air of having had something happen. But with them they bore, triumphantly, the untouched freezer, full of beautiful molds of ice-cream; also a large pasteboard box full of untouched, but rather crumpled-looking, fancy cakes.
The sandwiches, they explained regretfully, were beyond recall, and so was the salad. The Bent Street gang had been just about to begin their last course when the Scouts descended.
“We had a bully time!” said Billy Lee to Winona, who emerged from the kitchen, trying hard to look unoccupied, as did all the rest of the girls. “We didn’t expect a lark like that in the middle of this. But it’s hard on you girls to miss half the refreshments!”
“Don’t worry,” said Winona cheerfully. “We aren’t going to miss any of the refreshments, and neither are you! What do you think Camp Fire Girls are good for?”
“Lots!” said Billy honestly, “but I don’t see——”