Boy Scouts in the White Mountains: The Story of a Long Hike — A Closer Reading

urned red. “Shut up,” he said. “You wait till _you’re_ all dolled up, and see what _you_ look like!”

“Yes, and you’d better be getting dressed right away,” said one of the teachers to Peanut, who scampered off laughing.

Art stood about, very uncomfortable, watching the other boys and girls come from the dressing rooms, in their costumes. It was the dress rehearsal for a Colonial pageant the Southmead High School was going to present. They were going to sing a lot of old-time songs, and dance old-time dances (the girls doing most of the dancing). The stage was supposed to represent a Colonial parlor. Several people had loaned the school old mahogany furniture, the light was to come largely from candles, and finally, while the party was supposed to be in full blast, a messenger was going to dash in, breathless, announce the Battle of Lexington, and call the men-folks of Southmead to arms. Then the men would run for their guns, say good-bye to the women, and march off. Art couldn’t see why they should march off in all their best clothes, and had said so to the teacher who got up the play, but she had pointed out that they couldn’t afford to hire two costumes for all the boys, so they’d just have to pretend they went home for their other clothes. Art was not yet satisfied, however.

The girls were in funny old costumes with wide skirts and powdered hair. They were all having a much better time than Art was.

“Gee, they _like_ to dress up,” thought Art, as he watched Lucy Parker practicing a courtesy before her own reflection in a glass door, and patting her hair.

Peanut didn’t have to dress up in these elaborate clothes. He was the messenger who rushed in to announce the call to arms. He was also his own horse. Putting a board across two chairs just behind the door leading to the stage, he took a couple of drumsticks and imitated a galloping horse, beginning softly, as if the horse was far away, and drumming louder and louder till the horse was supposed to reach the door. Then he cried “Whoa!”, dropped the drumsticks, and dashed out upon the stage. Peanut had been rehearsing his part at home, and the imitation of the galloping horse was really very good.

As soon as everybody was dressed, the rehearsal began, with the music teacher at the piano, and the other teachers running about getting the actors into place. Lucy Parker was supposed to be giving the party in her house, and the other characters came on one by one, or in couples, while Lucy courtesied to each of them. The girls courtesied back, while the men were supposed to make low bows. There weren’t many lines to speak, but Dennie O’Brien was supposed to be a visiting French count, with very gallant manners, and he had to say “Bon soir, Mademoiselle Parker” (Lucy’s ancestors had lived in Southmead during the Revolution, so she kept her own name in the play), and then he had to lift her hand and kiss it. Dennie had never been able to do this at any of the rehearsals yet without giggling, and setting everybody else to giggling. But this time the teacher in charge spoke severely.

“Now, Dennis,” she said, “this is a dress rehearsal. You go through your part right!”

“Yes’m,” Dennie answered, feeling of the little black goatee stuck on his chin to see if it was on firm, and trying to keep his face straight.

When his turn came to enter, he got off his “Bon soir, Mademoiselle Parker” all right, and bowed over her hand without a snicker. But, just as he kissed her fingers, his goatee came off and fell to the floor. Everybody laughed, except Lucy. She was mad at him, because she wanted the play to be a great success, and before he could lift his face, she brought her hand up quickly and slapped his cheek a good, sounding whack.

Dennie jumped back, surprised. Then he picked up his goatee, while Lucy stamped her foot. “You great clumsy--_boy_!” she exclaimed.

“Serves you right, Dennis,” said the teacher.

“Well, I can’t help it if it won’t stick,” Dennie answered. “Gee, I’ll _bite_ your old hand next time!” he muttered to Lucy.

She ignored him, and the rehearsal proceeded. Art entered next, with Mary Pearson on his arm. Mary dropped a courtesy, and Art bowed.

The teacher clapped her hands for the rehearsal to stop. “Oh, Arthur,” she said, “don’t bow as if you had a ramrod down your back!”

“Well, I feel’s if I had,” said Art.