“Oh, I have an idea, a big one, too,” broke in Helen, her eyes all of a glow. “Why could we not have an auction sale? Of course a good many will return what they buy,—and I think it will be lots of fun.”
This idea was voted a good one, and a few minutes later Dr. Morrow announced from the Liberty platform that he was to act as auctioneer. A few brief words of explanation and the auction was on. First a box of candy was bid for, which, after much laughter, was finally knocked down for one dollar, a much larger sum than it would have brought earlier in the afternoon. A few books were now disposed of, a pile of canned vegetables, a number of comfort-kits, and so on, until everything, even to the posters and decorations, had been auctioned off.
As the girls were counting up the proceeds of this expected sale, old Deacon Perkins came up, and, after a few hems and haws, told the girls that if they wanted to make a raid on his cherry-trees the next morning, they could do so, and carry the fruit to the boys. They were to visit Camp Mills the following afternoon, and present their many donations to the young soldiers.
“Oh, isn’t that jolly good luck!” “Oh, that’s just glorious!” and many similar outbursts of joy caused the old deacon to beam with complacent benignity. The Sport, with a little giggle, whispered to Lillie that she knew old Perkins had never felt so goody-goody in his life before,—he was called the meanest man in town.
“Yes, girls,” admonished Nathalie, after the old deacon had been overwhelmed with thanks, and had gone smilingly on his way, “you will all have to get up very early to-morrow morning if you want those cherries, for you know we are to start for Mineola at an early hour, for it is some drive. Mrs. Morrow kindly offered me her car, so I asked her to be one of the chaperons. Mrs. Van Vorst is the other, and then Grace, you know, will take some of the party in her car.
“I am sorry,” her face sobered a little, “but there will only be room in the three cars for the officers of the Club, and,—yes, I think we ought to ask Marie, Captain Molly,” she explained, “to ride with us, for you know, of course, that she can’t walk far. The rest of you girls will have to go by train, that is, those who want to go.”
“But we all want to go,” called out several voices eagerly, “and we expected to go by train, for Lillie and Helen have given us a time-table, so we shall know just what to do, and we’ll meet you at the camp.”
The raid on the cherry-trees proved “a lark,” Edith declared, as, an hour or so before the girls started in the cars, she and Grace whizzed up in the car, filled with several baskets of cherries. A little later the three cars started for the camp, passing two or three groups of the girls on the road, en route for the depot. But they were soon left far behind as the cars whirled along the Merrick road, every one in the best of spirits, the little newsdealer so buoyantly happy to think that she was riding in the same car with the young president, that it did one good to look at her face, keenly aglow with delight.
Nathalie’s eyes were sparkling, too, for the little Jewess had just cried, “Bend down your head, Mees President, for I likes I shall whisper mit you in your ear.” And then, as the girl had smilingly complied, she heard the happy announcement, “My papa, he says like that you iss my friend, und so my papa he buy me a Liberty bond, for he says you are loving now mit me.” The owner of the pink ear into which these words had been loudly whispered, dimpled with pleasure, and then came the thought, “O dear, I wonder if my little liberty lecture had anything to do with papa’s buying the bond?”
There was a short stop at the Military Police guardhouse, to learn the way around the encampment, where several soldier-boys, with the big letters M. P. on their arms, were viewed with much curiosity by the girls. A call at the hostess house now followed, where the gifts for the soldiers—the knitted articles, the books, candy, and fruits—were left, the girls reserving the baskets of cherries to distribute to the boys themselves.