“Didn’t they even show you the photograph album?” inquired Louise, forgetting to be offended.
“Well—I simply yanked out that old tablet, and began at Civil War again. I said ‘As I was just saying to your mother!’ and I gave her every subject over!”
His hearers howled, and after a minute Tom himself joined in. “Did it work better this time?” asked Winona at last, wiping her eyes.
“Not a work,” said Tom cheerfully, reaching for the last cooky. “That is, all but the hat one. That was clever of you, Lou. She got almost human over that, and began to talk about how many engagements she had—had to break half of them. And I said ‘I don’t believe in breaking dates,’ and suddenly I remembered the one with you to take the pictures—and I left then and there, like a streak of lightning. I left my cane—I don’t care—she can have it to remember me by. Louise, I owe you an apology the size of the house. Why didn’t you remind me about those snapshots?”
“It’s not too late,” said Louise amiably. “The moon’s just about right, now.”
Tom went into the house after the cameras, sending his hat flying up to the hat-tree, followed by his gloves.
“All right,” said Winona. She leaned back, and laughed, as they waited for the others to come out.
“I don’t believe Tom will try any more formal calls till he’s eighteen, anyway,” she remarked.
“It seems a pity, though,” said Billy, getting up. “He wasted a perfectly good cane!”
Louise went back to camp next day, and Winona went on with her work at home. Louise had left all sorts of presents and messages from the girls, and taken a great many from Winona away with her. Louise’s visit cheered Winona up very much. There was only one hard thing about it—the news Louise had brought that the girls had extended the time of their stay again. The plan now was to stay in Camp Karonya till the fourteenth of September. School opened on the fifteenth. It seemed a long time to wait to see her friends again—for the doctor was certain that her mother would not be able to bear her weight on the injured ankle for a month to come.
Meanwhile Winona wrote to the girls, and her mother and Florence kept track, in what Winona considered a very wild way, of the things she did that should entitle her to honors. The honor-list and a sheet of blanks lived under her mother’s pillow, Winona was sure. If it gave her mother pleasure she was glad to have her do it; but it occurred to Winona the day after Louise left that it mightn’t be a bad scheme to collect a few honors herself, things that she was sure would count. Also she wanted some fun, and she had found that the acquiring of honors usually led to it. So Winona proceeded to “start something.”