THE GLORIOUS FOURTH

THE BAZAAR

CHAPTER XI

BELLE RINGOLD

Whether Jessie Norwood actually "had it," as she proclaimed, or not, she kept very quiet about her discovery of what she believed to be a brand new idea. She did not tell Amy, even, or Momsy. That would have been against the rules of the contest.

She wrote out her suggestion for the prize idea, sealed it in an envelope, and dropped it through the slit in the locked box in the parish house, placed there for that purpose. It was not long to wait until the next evening but one.

She rode down to the church in Momsy's car, an electric runabout, and waited outside the committee room door with some of the other girls and not a few of the boys of the parish, for there had been a prize offered, too, for the boy who made the best suggestion.

"I am sure they are going to use my idea," Belle Ringold said, with a toss of her bobbed curls.

Did we introduce you to Belle? By this speech you may know she was a very confident person, not easily persuaded that her own way was not always best. She not only had her hair bobbed in the approved manner of that season, but her mother was ill-advised enough to allow her to wear long, dangling earrings, and she favored a manner of walking (when she did not forget) that Burd Alling called "the serpentine slink." Belle thought she was wholly grown up.

"They couldn't throw out my idea," repeated Belle.

"What is it, Belle, honey?" asked one of her chums.

"She can't tell," put in Amy, who was present. "That is one of the rules."

"Pooh!" scoffed Belle. "Guess I'll tell if I want to. That won't invalidate my chances. They will be only too glad to use my idea."

"Dear me," drawled Amy, laughing. "You're just as sure as sure, aren't you?"

Miss Seymour, the girls' English teacher in school, came to the door of the committee room with a paper in her hand. A semblance of order immediately fell upon the company.

"We have just now decided upon the two suggestions of all those placed in the box, the two prize ideas. And both are very good, I must say.

Chippendale Truro! Is Chip here?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Chip, who was a snub-nosed boy whose chums declared "all his brains were in his head."

"Chip, I think your idea is very good. You will be interested to learn what it is, girls. Chip suggests that all the waitresses and saleswomen at the lawn party wear masks--little black masks as one does at a masquerade party. That will make them stand out from the guests. And the committee are pleased with the idea. Chip gets the tennis racket in Mr. Brill's show-window."

"Cricky, Chip! how did you come to think of that?" demanded one of the boys in an undertone.

"Well, they are going to be regular road-agents, aren't they?" asked the snub-nosed boy. "They take everything you have in your pockets at those fairs. They ought to wear masks--and carry guns, too. Only I didn't dare suggest the guns."

Amid the m.u.f.fled explosion of laughter following this statement, Miss Seymour began speaking again:

"The girl's prize--the sports coat at Letterblair's--goes to Jessie Norwood, on whose father's lawn the bazaar is to be held on the afternoon and evening of the Fourth of July."

At this announcement Belle Ringold actually cried out: "What's that?"

"Hush!" commanded Miss Seymour. "Jessie has suggested that a tent be erected--her father has one stored in his garage--and that her radio set be placed in the tent and re-connected. With an amplifier the concerts broadcasted from several stations can be heard inside the tent, and we will charge admission to the tent. Radio is a new and novel form of amus.e.m.e.nt and, the committee thinks, will attract a large patronage. The coat is yours, Jessie."

"Well, isn't that the meanest thing!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Belle Ringold.

"Did I hear you say something, Belle?" demanded Miss Seymour, in her very sternest way.

"Well, I want to say----"

"Don't say it," advised the teacher. "The decisions upon the prize ideas are arbitrary. The committee is responsible for its acts, and must decide upon all such matters. The affair is closed," and she went back into the committee room and closed the door.

"Well, isn't she the mean thing!" exclaimed one of those girls who liked to stand well with Belle Ringold.

"I am sure your idea was as good as good could be, Belle," Jessie said. "Only I happened to have the radio set, and--and everything is rigged right for my idea to work out."

"Oh, I can see that it was rigged right," snapped Belle. "Your mother is on the committee, and the lawn party is going to be at your house.

Oh, yes! No favoritism shown, of course."

"Oh, cat's foot!" exclaimed Amy, linking her arm in Jessie's. "Let her splutter, Jess. We'll go to the Dainties Shop and have a George Washington sundae."

"I am afraid Belle is going to be very unpleasant about this thing,"

sighed Jessie, as she and her chum came out of the parish house.

"As usual," commented Amy. "Why should we care?"

"I hate to have unpleasant things happen."

"Think of the new coat," laughed Amy. "And I do think you were awfully smart to think of using your radio in that way. Lots of people, do you know, don't believe it can be so. They think it is make-believe."

"How can they, when wireless telegraphy has been known so long?"

"But, after all, this is something different," Amy said. "Hearing voices right out of the air! Well, you know, Jess, I said before, I thought it was sort of spooky."

"Ha, ha!" giggled her chum. "All the spooks you know anything about personally are blacksnakes. Don't forget that."

"And how brave that little Hen was," sighed Amy, as they sat down to the round gla.s.s table in the Dainties Shop. "I never saw such a child."

"I was trying to get daddy interested in her and in her lost cousin--if that was her cousin whom we saw carried off," Jessie returned. "Come to think of it, I didn't get very far with my story. I must talk to daddy again. But Momsy says he is much troubled over a case he has on his hands, an important case, and I suppose he hasn't time for our small affairs."

"I imagine that girl who was kidnaped doesn't think hers is a small affair," observed Amy Drew, dipping her spoon into the rich concoction that had been placed before her. "Oh, yum, yum! Isn't this good, Jess?"

"Scrumptious. By the way, who is going to pay for it?"

"Oh, my! Haven't you any money?" demanded Amy.

"We-ell, you suggested this treat."

"But you should stand it. You won the prize coat," giggled Amy.

"I never saw the like of you!" exclaimed Jessie. "And you say I am not fit to carry money, and all. Have you actually got me in here without being able to pay for this cream?"