Blue Bonnet in Boston Part 60

"Wouldn't Sue do?"

"Oh, not at all! It takes a very stunning, tall person--"

"Thanks awfully for the compliment!" came from Sue's quarter.

"Sue! You know I didn't mean anything. It takes a rather masculine person. I think Helen Renwick, perhaps--"

"Much obliged, Wee. I adore that type, you know." This from Helen, who prided herself on her femininity.

Wee threw down the book impatiently.

"You'd better choose another cla.s.s president," she said. "I'm ready to resign. If any of you think my job's fun, you're welcome to try it!"

Blue Bonnet strove to heal the breach.

"n.o.body's angry, Wee--stop it! There couldn't any one take your place.

You're doing the best you can for all of us--we know that. Sue and Helen were only joking."

"Sue hasn't anything to grumble about," Wee insisted. "She has a perfectly dear comedy part: a deaf old lady who's always hearing things wrong. _I_ think it's great."

Sue from her corner grinned, and whispered something to Helen; but she wafted a kiss in Wee's direction and Wee brightened.

"Now we're all agreed, are we, that this play is what we want to present?" the president said, rapping for order. "Shall we vote on it?"

A hearty affirmative settled the matter.

"Very well. The duty of making it the best ever given in the school rests with the cast. I am at your service at all times. We shall now adjourn to meet to-morrow afternoon at five o'clock and continue the arrangements."

The next three weeks were the busiest that Blue Bonnet had known since her entrance to the school. Lessons grew in length and importance. There were endless themes to write in English; mathematics became more and more enigmatical; music more difficult. In addition to this were rehearsals for the play.

"I feel as if I were being driven," Blue Bonnet said one day to Sue Hemphill, disconsolately. "Would you mind hearing me say my lines, Sue?

I think I almost have them. I'll begin at my second entrance. I'm sure I know up to there perfectly. I don't know what ever made me take this part. I'm sure to forget at a critical moment."

But whatever Blue Bonnet's doubts may have been, the rest of the cast had no fears for their star. For them she shone brilliantly, and promised, so Wee declared,--and Wee's judgment was never questioned,--to be the "hit" of the evening.

The days leading up to the performance were strenuous indeed. All the Juniors had been pressed into service. They scurried through halls; darted in and out of rooms laden with draperies, gowns and furniture, mum as sphinxes, spry as crickets.

The day of the Junior spread dawned at last. A wonderful day the first week in May. The gymnasium had been transformed into a bower of beauty.

Pine-trees--huge banks of them--concealed the walls, giving an idea of a forest with marvelous effect. Wondrous fountains, constructed in a day, bubbled and sang; flowers bloomed in profusion; and the long table with its festive decorations, sparkling gla.s.s and silver, bespoke a welcome to all beholders.

But it was in the dressing-rooms, behind the scenes and in the wings, that the greatest excitement prevailed. The smell of powder and cold cream filled the air. Sue Hemphill, completely covered with a gingham ap.r.o.n from head to foot, was in her element "making up."

"Don't wiggle so, Blue Bonnet," she commanded, as that young person squirmed under the rigorous treatment she was receiving. "I'll have you looking like a Chinaman in a minute if you don't hold still. I've got to take that eyebrow off--it slants too much. There--that's better! Isn't it, Wee? Wait a minute."

She stood at a distance and contemplated Blue Bonnet thoughtfully.

"You have to study your subjects," she said finally, "to get good results. You're not red enough yet, Blue Bonnet. You can stand a lot of color."

Blue Bonnet protested.

"It isn't necessary that I should look like a house afire, is it? I'm not going to have another bit, Sue, and you needn't insist. Uncle Cliff would have a fit if he could see me; and Aunt Lucinda! mercy, she'd think I was disgraced forever. Ugh! I think I look a fright!"

She held the mirror up to her face and frowned into it impatiently.

Sue explained.

"But you've _got_ to do it, Blue Bonnet. Why, you'd look ghastly behind the footlights without any color. Come now--please. Wet your lips and put them out--so! There, that's fine. Wee, turn up the lights on the stage and take a look at Blue Bonnet. Go to the back of the room. See if you think she's made up too much."

"Perfectly lovely!" Wee called a moment later. "You're just b-e-a-utiful! Your best friends will never know you." Which very doubtful compliment went unnoticed in the general rush and excitement.

"Now, do be careful," Sue cautioned as Blue Bonnet gave her seat to Helen Renwick, who stood patiently waiting, cold creamed to the proper consistency. "And don't, under _any_ circ.u.mstances, use your handkerchief. You'll look like a painted sunset at close range if you do. Grease paint's terribly smeary. Please be careful, won't you?"

Blue Bonnet pa.s.sed out into the wings where Wee was giving instructions right and left.

"Oh, Wee," she said, "I'm scared to death! I believe I'm threatened with stage fright. Do you know how it comes on? Feel my hands."

She laid an icy lump in Wee's warm palm tremblingly.

"Absurd!" Wee said. "Did you think you caught it--like measles or chicken-pox?"

"I think it's caught _me_, Wee. I feel so sort of choky--and queer."

"You'll get over it. Don't worry. You look too sweet for words. Take a peek at the stage. It's a dream."

It was a pretty setting. Along the light green walls were white curtained windows in whose boxes grew bright, red roses, and swinging from the dimly lighted ceiling was the green and yellow shamrock presented by a former cla.s.s. The stage represented a simple room in an Irish peasant's cottage, with its brick fireplace and high cupboards.

Blue Bonnet was exclaiming over its loveliness when a voice at the centre entrance interrupted her.

"Wee!" it called excitedly. "You're wanted in Clare Peters'

dressing-room instantly. They've sent her the wrong wig. It should be grey, and its blond and curly--imagine!--Clare's frantic."

Wee and Blue Bonnet both hastened to the dressing-room. Clare Peters, a somewhat spoiled, flighty girl, accustomed to having her way in most things, stood before the mirror in tears.

"I can't do a thing with it," she said. "I told that stupid man at the costumer's that it had to be grey--I--"

"Go for Sue Hemphill," Wee commanded, and Blue Bonnet fled in haste.

With extraordinary skill Sue fitted the offending wig to Clare's head; gave the curls a twist; treated them to a liberal dose of talc.u.m powder and left Clare happy and satisfied.

"My, but she's a wonder!" commented the leader of the fairies, who had watched the operation in amazement. "Sue certainly is a whiz!"

In another moment the cast had been called together for final instructions. When all were gathered Wee laid down the law. The fairies were not to talk in the wings. All were to keep an eye on the prompter, and Blue Bonnet was especially informed that if the wind apparatus got on a rampage, as it did at the dress rehearsal, and drowned what she was saying at her first entrance, she was to raise her voice and compete with the elements, if need be.

Then there was a rush for the closed doors of the gymnasium, behind which the Juniors sang their song of welcome to the waiting Seniors; and the Seniors responded in fitting style.

As the doors were opened, and the Seniors beheld for the first time the fruits of the Juniors' long endeavors there were exclamations of surprise and delight; and after respects had been paid to the receiving line which included, besides the Junior officers, Miss North and Professor Howe, seats were hastily drawn to the front of the room for the best possible view of the stage; the curtain rolled up, and the play was on!

Perhaps no one in the cast felt the fear that possessed Blue Bonnet as she watched the curtain go up and realized that in a few moments she must face the audience beyond. Her heart beat like a trip hammer; her teeth chattered as if with chill, and Wee Watts, alarmed for her star,--the real shining light of the play,--rubbed the cold hands in an agony of apprehension and spoke comforting words.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SHE WAS OONAH, THE BEWITCHING LITTLE IRISH MAIDEN."]