Four Girls and a Compact | Page 4

place to find!" murmured Laura Ann. "I see myself
going straight to it!"
"We've got to go to it, on account of--" Loraine nodded toward the
sleeping little figure in the softest chair. "Girls, Billy is all worn out."

"So are you," Laura Ann said tenderly.
"And you," retorted Loraine.
The Talentless One, unintentionally left out, sighed an infinitesimal
sigh, preparatory to smiling stoutly.
"Of course we're going to find the right place," she said convincingly.
"You wait and see. I see it now"--this dreamily; it was odd for the
Talentless One to be dreaming. "It looks this way: Green, grassy and
pine-woodsy and roomy. And cornfields--think of it!"
"'Woods and cornfields--the picture must not be over-done,'" quoted
softly and a little accusingly Laura Ann. But the Talentless One had
never heard of Miss Cary's beautiful poem, and went on calmly:
"And a--pump. Girls, if I find the 'Eldorado,' there'll be a
pump--painted blue!"
Here Billy woke up. There was no time to discountenance the pump.
"Why, I believe I've been asleep!" Billy laughed restedly. "And I've
been somewhere else, too. Guess!"
"To Eldorado," someone ventured.
"Well, I have. It was the loveliest place! There weren't any pianos or
schools or photograph salons or handkerchiefs in it!"
"Then we'll go there!" the Talentless One cried.
Loraine was busy cutting strips of paper. She cut four of varying
lengths and dropped them into an empty cracker-box.
"Somebody shake them up, everyone shut her eyes and draw one," she
ordered. "And the person that draws the longest slip must be the one to
find our Eldorado."
They shut their eyes and fumbled in the cracker-box. The room was

oddly quiet. Laura Ann, who always drew the fatal slip, breathed a little
hard.
But the lot fell to the Talentless One.

CHAPTER II.
"Why, I didn't get it!" exclaimed Laura Ann, in surprise. "And maybe
I'm not thankful! Poor T.O.!"
"Yes, poor T.O.!" agreed Loraine and Billy. The honor of drawing the
longest slip was not, it appeared, a coveted one. But T.O. actually
beamed!
"Needn't anyone pity me!" she said, briskly. "I like it! You see," she
added, explanatorily, "I never did anything remarkable before! Of
course I sha'n't blame you girls any if you shake in your shoes while
I'm gone, but I'll promise to do my little best. If you thought you could
trust me--"
"We do! We do!" Loraine said, warmly, speaking for them all. "And
we pity you, too, poor dear! It looks like an awful undertaking to me."
"How long can you take? Are you sure they'll let you get off down at
Torrey's?" asked Billy, languidly.
"Oh," the Talentless One said, calmly, "I shall get a substitute, of
course. They let the girls do that, if the substitute suits 'em. There's a
girl that used to be at the handkerchief counter that will be glad enough
to earn a little money, I know. She'll be tickled! And she can keep the
place open for me when I get back from the country in the fall--"
Suddenly the Talentless One laughed out joyously. "Hear me! 'When I
get back from the country!' Doesn't that sound splendid! Makes me
think of cows and chickens and strawberries and--"
"Pumps painted blue!" laughed Laura Ann. "We're in for a blue pump,
girls!"

* * * * *
The substitution at the handkerchief counter could not be arranged for
at once, so the proposed voyage of discovery was a little delayed.
Meanwhile the Grand Plan and a newly-born family of lesser plans
occupied the interim of waiting. One thing they all agreed upon. It was
tired little Billy who voiced it.
"We won't be good this summer, will we? I've been good so long that I
want to rest!"
"It would seem comfortable not to have to be, wouldn't it?" Loraine
laughed. As if Loraine could rest from being good! "Not to have to do
anything for anybody--just be good to yourself! Now, I call that the
luxury of selfishness! And really, girls, we deserve one little luxury--"
"We'll indulge ourselves," T.O. nodded gravely. "I'm sure I've been
polite to people and patient with people long enough to have a
vacation--a summer vacation!"
"Give me a paper and pencil, somebody, quick!" This from Laura Ann.
She fell to scribbling industriously. The purring of her pencil over the
paper had a smooth, wicked sound as if it were writing wicked things.
It was.
"Be it known," read Laura Ann, flourishing her pencil, "that we, the
undersigned, having endeavored, up to the present, to be good, consider
ourselves entitled to be selfish during our summer vacation. That we
mean to be selfish--that we herewith swear to be! That we do not mean
to 'do good unto' anybody except ourselves! Inasmuch as we have
faithfully tried