A word was quickly chosen for Mr. Parker although they feared it would be too easy. That gentleman was really enjoying himself very much. Climbing trees was not much in his line, but he congratulated himself that while his suit no doubt looked perfectly new, it was in reality three years old and was only his eighteenth best. The lapels were a little smaller than the prevailing mode and the coat cut away a bit more than the latest fashion. He could not wear it much longer, anyhow, and in the meantime he was having a very pleasant time. The girls were a ripping lot and he would no doubt have the pleasure of bringing them out in years to come. He might even stretch a point and ask some of them to dance the german with him before they made their debuts. That little Allison girl from the country was a charmer and as for the Tucker twins—the only trouble about them was he could not decide which one would take the better in society. Helen Carter was sure to win in whatever class she entered. Douglas Carter had deceived him somewhat. The evening before, while looking very pretty she had lacked animation. He had been quite serious in his advice to Mrs. Carter not to bring her out that year. With the scarcity of beaux only a girl who was all animation had any show of having a good time in her debutante year. Now today this girl had thrown off her listlessness and was as full of life as anyone. She was really beautiful. If a complexion could show up as well as hers did in the sunlight what would it not do in artificial light? And her hair! Hair like that could stand the test of dancing all night, and Mr. Hiram G. Parker had found out from long experience that not much hair could stand the test.
“Always coming out of curl and getting limp!” he muttered, but just then they whistled for him and he returned to the tree.
“Ahem! Miss Douglas, are you expecting to miss the boys who have gone to the border with the Blues?”
“Yes, indeed!” blushed Douglas; “but if I were a teakettle it would be even worse.”
“Is it a mother? Of course it would be worse if you were a mother! Ah, maybe you have been promising to be a sister to one of them.”
Douglas blushed so furiously that she almost fell off her precarious perch.
“‘Mother’ isn’t the word—neither is ‘sister’!” shouted the crowd. “Guess again!”
“Miss Dum Tucker, are you going to remain long in camp?”
“I am afraid I shall have to leave on Monday, but if the teakettle fancier is no longer here, I don’t believe I should care to remain.”
“Teakettle fancier! Sounds like spinsters. I can’t see what it is. Miss Dee, what are these teakettles like?”