THE THANKSGIVING PARTY

Betty was sitting on top of the grand piano on the platform in the a.s.sembly Hall, kicking her feet and sucking a very large lemon by means of a stick of candy used as a straw.

"Thanksgiving comes but once a year," she chanted to no one in particular, adding, with a heartfelt sigh to give the words emphasis:

"Thank goodness."

"Why so grateful?" questioned Florence Guile pausing in the act of erecting a would-be gypsy tent out of a miscellaneous a.s.sortment of shawls. Then, attracted by the gurgling sound of Betty's lemon, she straightened up, and pointing an accusing finger, demanded:

"Betty Thompson, are you daring to suck the lemon we were saving to write the fortunes with?"

"Well, yes I am," Betty admitted, dodging under the piano and smiling impishly from this point of vantage.

"Now, Florence, you are selfish," she teased; "it's bad enough having no Thanksgiving vacation, but after the way I've worked my fingers to the bone for you, you shouldn't, no, you really shouldn't begrudge me a lemon."

Florence tried hard not to smile in the face of Betty's mournful expression, and made an attempt at rescuing the stolen fruit.

The above took place at ten o'clock on Thanksgiving morning. The a.s.sembly Hall was filled with busy girls, and it was evident that preparations of some kind were under way.

Owing to an epidemic of mumps the girls had been kept in school over the holidays, and for their amus.e.m.e.nt, and to ward off any chance of the more serious epidemic known as "homesickness," the Seniors had been bidden to entertain.

Florence, having unsuccessfully pursued Betty twice around the hall at a rate highly unbecoming a dignified Senior, paused for breath, and Lois, Polly and Angela, who had watched the chase with interest, came to her a.s.sistance, and captured the lemon from the now unresisting Betty.

"Here it is, at least what's left of it," said Lois, presenting it to Florence. "And we've finished the spider web in History room. What else can we do for you!"

"Thanks, ever so much," Florence replied. "That settles the little children, they will be in there by themselves. Now if you'll only struggle with that tent, I can't make it look like anything."

"Don't worry about it, I think I can," Lois a.s.sured her, "it's for the gypsies to sit in and tell the fortunes, isn't it!"

"Yes, but it will never be large enough," Florence responded dolefully.

"Well, let them sit at the door of it," suggested Angela; "that will be just as picturesque and not nearly so hot."

Florence looked with admiration at the girls before her.

"What wonders you are," she said. "You've done all the work so far, it's lots more the Freshmen's party than the Seniors'."

"But you and Louise can't be expected to do it all," replied Polly, decidedly. "And you know you're the only two that count," she added, lowering her voice so that the other Seniors, who were willingly, but unsuccessfully, attempting the decorations at the other end of the room, would not hear her.

Florence, a little confused at such frank praise, said hurriedly:

"Well, you're dears to do it anyway and now, if you'll do something with that tent I'll fly to Louise. I promised to help her with those fortunes. We have to write one for every girl, and it will take ages."

"Poor dear, and to think I sucked up half the lemon," said Betty contritely. "I'll go get you some milk, it's just as good," she finished, starting for the door.

"You can't," Angela called after her. "The storeroom's closed."

Betty, already out of the room, whirled around on one toe, and holding to the side of the doorway for support, poked her laughing face around the corner.

"Then, I'll steal it from the cat," she said.

For the rest of the morning, Angela and Polly, under the able directions of Lois, who was undoubtedly very artistic, worked over the tent and succeeded in making it look quite habitable.

"It's not perfect but I guess it will do. I wish we could get a big kettle," Lois said, as she stood off with her head on one side to get the effect.

"Well, can't we," questioned Polly. "There's sure to be one in the kitchen."

Angela, who was busy with the finishing touches, remarked hopefully:

"The lights will be dim tonight and that ought to help."

Lois walked to the edge of the platform and asked some of the Seniors who were still busy at the other end of the room, to come and see if the tent was all right.

After they had eyed it critically, and suggested one or two unimportant changes-thereby a.s.serting their superiority-they p.r.o.nounced it perfect.

The three girls sat down for a well merited rest.

In the mean time, Florence and Louise, in the latter's room, were racking their brains over the fortunes.

Before the lemon was used up, Betty appeared with a half a gla.s.s of milk, but she absolutely refused to tell where she had found it.

"Well, it doesn't much matter anyway, as long as it wasn't the cat's,"

Louise laughed, giving up trying to discover. "But now that you're here you may as well stay and help us with these things."

"My ma.s.sive brain is at your service," Betty replied, flopping on the bed, and preparing to make herself thoroughly comfortable.

"Haven't you done any of them yet?"

"Dozens," answered Florence, "like 'you will grow wise and wax fat' that will do for anybody, but some of the girls must have special ones."

"Who are they?"

"First, there's Mary Reeves."

"Oh! say she'll make the team her first year in college," suggested Louise.

"Who next?"

"Madelaine Ames, what about her?"

Louise looked puzzled.

"The professors refused to teach her music any more," said Betty, doubtfully. "Says she's incorrigible-like that, through his nose."

"Good, we'll say she will go on a concert tour, and take the world by storm. Now who?"

"Well, there's Agnes Green," Louise hesitated.