A/N – I came across a really interesting blog post in Mrs Daffodil Digresses about the "summer girl," i.e., a female meant for a temporary seasonal fling. An article published in the Leavenworth Times in 1883 and a short fiction piece published in the New Castle Herald in 1909 extolled the ideal summer girl, and the mindset behind this phenomenon was so fascinating, disgusting, and right along the lines of Harold Hill's pre-reformation mindset that it inspired the following fic.
XXX
The summer girl is a peculiarly American product, says the Trenton Times. No other soil, so far as known, has ever produced her. She seems to have been discovered several years ago by some college students, and has since been cultivated to a large extent all over the country. She is a very popular creature in certain quarters, possesses undoubted charms and has her advantages. It might not be amiss just now to enumerate a few of her uses.
~ The Leavenworth [KS] Times 5 August 1883: p. 2, introductory paragraph
XXX
Summer 1912
What a beautiful evening, Harold Hill happily thought to himself as he surveyed his new hunting grounds. And it wasn't the landscape or the weather he was admiring, though they provided the perfect backdrop for the game afoot. It was the time of day the conman loved best during the summer season: the sun had just set and the breezes were pleasantly cool. These were prime atmospheric conditions for people to be out and about, and so they were.
Harold watched the residents of River City very carefully in order to glean the essence of their character and habits as they went about their business. While there didn't seem to be anything particularly distinctive about these Iowans upon first glance, there was nevertheless something indescribably charming about this quintessential American burg. So aloud to his associate Marcellus Washburn, the swindler said, "You sure picked yourself a town!"
The conversation that followed was largely lost to Harold's attention, as his clever mind was too busy formulating the ideal scheme for creating a desperate need for a boys' band among these neck-bowed Hawkeyes. Fortunately, the new pool table at the Pleez-All Billiard Parlor provided ready ammunition, and his stirring speech about the dangers of idleness among youth was just the powder needed to spark a moral panic. As the conman stood atop the statue of Henry Madison with a triumphant grin, surveying the commotion he'd caused, Marcellus' arms and fingers motioned back and forth in frantic arpeggios – the warning signal for when the musically astute librarian entered the vicinity.
When Harold's eyes landed on the blonde marching primly by the town green – her eyes were fixed staunchly on the road ahead of her – his summer was fully booked. To his delight, the maiden-lady librarian wasn't merely beautiful; she was one of the most gorgeous women he'd ever seen. While she might be putting on some rather formidable above-it-all airs now, he knew from long experience that the more straitlaced and standoffish a lady appeared to be in public, the more wild and unrestrained she tended to be between the sheets. It was simply a matter of finding just the right words to crumble those walls of Jericho around her. Given that romance was always sweetest in summertime, the season would deftly assist in his seduction.
Clambering down from the statue, Harold skedaddled after his latest conquest, his pulse pounding with the thrill of the chase. It was a beautiful evening, indeed. And it would be an even more glorious summer.