“Gee!” exclaimed Hinpoha and Sahwah and Gladys and the other two girls, all in a breath. In moments of great emotional stress refined language seems an utter failure as a vehicle of expression. Slang is the only thing that adequately expresses the feelings. They said it again, intentionally and emphatically—“_Gee!_”
“What a foolish thing to do,” said Sahwah, when they had all recovered somewhat, “falling into the pool to give a man a chance to be a hero. She might have been drowned.”
“She didn’t run such an awful risk,” observed Katherine, the all-knowing. “She’s a good swimmer herself; I’ve heard people say so.”
And again the girls sought relief in the expression not sanctioned by the grammar.
“Going to the Lodge?” said the Captain’s voice in Hinpoha’s ear a few days later, as she swung along the street. The Captain’s manner was decidedly diffident. He was not at all sure how she would treat him this time.
Hinpoha nodded companionably. “I’m going to practice with the handball,” she said energetically. “Come on, I’ll race you across the field.”
“That was great, wasn’t it?” she cried laughingly, as she stopped before the door, breathless, with her hair flying around her face.
“Say, give us a curl, will you?” begged the Captain, tugging at one that hung over the collar of her coat.
“Don’t be silly, Captain,” she said reprovingly. “You know I hate people who are sentimental.”
Hinpoha’s romance was a thing of the past.
“I can’t help it, it simply won’t roll!” exclaimed Katherine in despair. “I’ve tugged and tugged until my fingernails are all broken, and it just naturally won’t turn over!” And Katherine sat down with a discouraged thud and fanned herself with a hair-brush.
“Well, we’ll ‘just naturally’ have to stop and see what’s the matter with it,” said Nyoda soothingly. The Winnebagos were having a contest in poncho rolling to be in practice for the coming summer’s camping trips. The aim of each one just now was to accomplish this in two minutes. Two minutes to spread out a poncho, two blankets and enough clothes for an overnight trip, roll it up into a neat stove-pipe, bend it into a tidy horseshoe and fasten the ends together with a rope tied in square knots.
The record was held by Medmangi, quiet, neat Medmangi, who, while the others were working like mad, had serenely completed her task in a minute and three-quarters.