Sahwah was already inside her bathing suit, and Agony had hers half on. Hinpoha replied with an unintelligible sound, one-eighth grunt and seven-eights yawn, and rising tipsily from her bed she looked around for her bathing suit with eyes still half sealed by sleep. Sahwah helped her into the suit and seizing her hand led her down to the water, where half the camp, shaking with convulsive merriment at the absurdity of the thing, were scrupulously taking their “morning dip,” with toothbrush drill and all the other regular morning ablutions.
The rising bugle blew while they were still at it and they sped back to the tents to get dressed, making three times as much racket about this process as they ever did in the morning. Most of the tents had no lights, because ordinarily no one needed a light to undress by and so the lanterns which had been given out at the beginning of the season were scattered everywhere about camp as especial need for them had arisen upon various occasions. But getting dressed in the dark is harder than getting undressed, and most of the tents were in an uproar.
“I can only find one stocking,” wailed Oh-Pshaw, after vainly feeling around for several minutes. “Where’s my flashlight, Katherine?”
“I’m sorry, but I just dropped it into the water jar,” replied Katherine, “and it won’t work any more.” Katherine herself was hopelessly involved in her bloomers, having put both feet through the same leg, and was lying flat on the floor trying to extricate herself.
“Can I go with only one stocking on?” Oh-Pshaw persisted plaintively. “I haven’t another pair here in the tent.”
“I can’t find my middy,” Jean Lawrence was lamenting, paying no heed to Oh-Pshaw’s troubles in regard to hosiery.
Tiny Armstrong, reaching down behind her bed for some missing article of her costume, gave the bed such a shove that it went flying out of the tent carrying the rustic railing with it, and they heard it go bumping down the hillside.
“Strike one!” called Tiny ruefully. “That’s what comes of being so strong. I’ll knock the tent down next.”
“Will somebody please tell me where my middy is?” Jean cried tragically. “I can’t find it anywhere.”
“Will someone tell me where the other leg of my bloomers is?” exclaimed Katherine. “I’ve shoved both feet through the same leg three times, now. There goes the breakfast bugle!”
“Oh, where is my other stocking?”
“Where is my middy?”
“Who’s gone south with my shoes?”
The threefold wail floated down on the breeze as footsteps began to run down the Alley in the direction of the bungalow. A few minutes later the occupants of Bedlam slid as unobtrusively as possible into the lighted bungalow; Oh-Pshaw with her bloomers down around her ankles in a Turkish effect, to hide the fact that she had on only one stocking; Jean with her sweater buttoned tightly around her, Katherine with her red