DOLLS.
The luncheon guests had all gone home; Marjorie and Lily were resting
before dinner. Neither, however, seemed inclined to sleep; both were
occupied with their own thoughts.
“Marj,” began Lily, dreamily, after she had reassured herself that her
companion was awake, “would you care an awful lot if I didn’t come to
scout meeting _every_ Saturday night?”
The other girl regarded her tenderly.
“Of course not, Lil—I understand. You have so much to plan for to
think about, if you’re going to be married right after Commencement. I
know I’d feel the same way.”
“You won’t think me a quitter, then?” she asked, anxiously. “It isn’t
as if I weren’t interested in the troop—but I’m so sure it’s going
to keep on going splendidly that I don’t believe you really need me.
Sophia can take my place on the team. If it were any other night but
Saturday——”
“Yes, of course, Lil,” repeated Marjorie sympathetically. “I really
think you are right. After all, Dick has some claims. And he ought to
have your week-ends.”
“I’m so glad you see it that way, Marj! I do want to come home, too,
whenever I can, for mother and dad’s sake as much as for my own. She
even insists on a New York dressmaker for my trousseau, though I’d
rather just find somebody in Philadelphia. You know I haven’t any
classes on Saturday, so I could leave college sometimes on Fridays.”
“The scouts will agree, I am sure,” continued Marjorie, “especially
when they see your ring. They won’t think it’s because you’re tired of
them.”
“Do you think that you ought to get another lieutenant?” Lily inquired.
“Daisy or Floss?”
“All three of the juniors are busy with that troop in the village,”
Marjorie reminded her. “So I’d hate to take them away, for they’re
doing good work there. And I’m sure I don’t want an outsider. No, I
think I can manage myself, if you’ll drop in whenever you can.”
“Indeed I will!” the other girl promised.
Marjorie closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she found it
impossible. Although up to this time she had been quite successful in
dismissing her scout troop from her mind during the vacation, she found
her old perplexing problems returning. It was Florence who had stirred
up this questioning, Florence who had suggested that she did not have a
firm hold on the troop, that they would be interested only as long as
the basketball season lasted.
When the girls began to dress for dinner, she sought Lily’s advice.
“I don’t want to bother you, Lil, but I must talk scout affairs over
with you once in a while. Floss’ remark that the girls are only
interested in basket-ball sort of worries me. Couldn’t you suggest some
new interest, like you did this one?”
Her chum, who at that moment was trying to decide whether to wear
a heliotrope georgette or a black velvet dinner dress, brought her
attention with difficulty to Marjorie’s question.
“What—er—yes,” she answered absently.
“Think of something, Lil!” Marjorie pleaded.
Lily looked at her companion in amusement.
“I think, Marj, for your own sake, you ought to forget that troop for
a while. You promised you would during the holidays, you know. And
everything’s going beautifully—remember the game, and our boxes of
chocolates!”
“I know—but who was it who said, ‘In time of peace prepare for war?’
That’s my idea—just keep things going every minute, so that the girls
haven’t time to wonder whether they are bored.”
“But my dear, you can’t expect this to keep up all your life! You
probably wouldn’t have time for them next year, anyway.”
“All the more reason why I must make a desperate attempt to secure a
really firm hold, so I could be as sure of them as I am of our senior
patrol.”
“You’ll never be able to do that, Marj. That would be almost a miracle.
But I do think you’ve done remarkably; why not be content?”
“Oh, I can’t! If that is all, then I shall have failed!”
“Better fail, as you call it, than give your life to such a tremendous
struggle. Marj, do be normal! Just enjoy things while you’re young!
Don’t be everlastingly aiming at the impossible.”
Marjorie laughed, but it was without heart. There was no use appealing
to Lily now, indeed she ought to be thankful that her roommate had
already given her so much assistance.
She knew that she had made the same promise to John—not to refer to
the troop during the vacation—yet she decided to risk breaking it. If
there was a possibility of his helping her, he would not want her to
worry over her problem alone. So, as soon as the young men had arrived,
and had heard all the details of the luncheon, and John had presented
his best wishes to the couple, Marjorie sought an opportunity to talk
with him in confidence. As she had hoped, she found him eager to listen.
“I have been expecting this—though I didn’t think you would see it
until nearer the close of the basketball season,” he said quietly.
“And I have been doing some thinking along lines of my own. I have a
suggestion to offer, although you may not consider it very good. Don’t
hesitate to tell me if you don’t approve.”
“Oh, thank you, John!” cried the girl, with a feeling of deep gratitude
in her heart.
“Well, one day last week our wash-woman’s little girl was run over
and was taken to the Children’s Hospital. She is getting along all
right, fortunately, but Mother wanted me to go see her and take her
some flowers and fruit. I found her in the children’s ward—the most
pathetic, and yet the most marvellous place in the world.”
“Yes?” breathed Marjorie sympathetically.
“I just wish you could have seen the brave little patients there, some
of them the most dreadful cases, but all trying to be so courageous. I
admit I could scarcely keep back my tears, and when I got home and told
Mother all about it, she had a good cry. I don’t think I ever have been
more deeply touched.
“I felt as if I must do something—send more money, more toys, more
nurses. I wanted to go out and preach children’s hospitals from morning
till night, I wanted to get every girl I knew to enroll as a nurse. If
you could see the way the little things depend upon those nurses! They
adore them, they wait patiently till they have time to attend to them.
Oh, they are wonderful!”
Marjorie herself felt near to tears, so realistic was John’s
description of the little sufferers. She did not trust herself to say
anything.
“And then I thought of your girl scouts, girls who have no definite aim
in life, who are not preparing for anything special, and I wondered
whether we couldn’t turn at least part of their interest there. Perhaps
we have been thinking too much of what we could do for them; maybe if
we realized that the greatest thing would be for them to do something
for others, we might succeed further.”
“I believe you’re right, John,” Marjorie said, thoughtfully. “But how?”
“Well, I would begin by taking them to see the children. There are
about fifteen little girls in that ward; suppose I bought a doll for
each child—would your girls dress them? That would give them a chance
to see the hospital from the inside, and they might be interested. You
may even be able to start a course in home-nursing or first-aid, as a
result.”
Marjorie was silent for a long while, pondering the idea. Was it
possible, she wondered, to touch these girls, to take them outside of
themselves and their own little worlds, to see someone else’s point of
view? Was not John correct in thinking she had given too much attention
to the good she might do them, rather than the good they might do to
others? The idea was so much bigger than any she had ever conceived for
them that she was almost terrified at its seriousness.
“It certainly is worth a try, John. It would be great if we could
interest them, but I am not going to count on it, or expect a miracle.
At least the visit to the hospital with the dolls would be worth-while,
if nothing finally came of it.”
“Then you will let me send the dolls?”
“I’d love to—but you better wait till I ask the scouts. There is a
chance they may turn me down.”
“But you do like the suggestion?”
“Immensely, John—and—thank you so much.” She lowered her voice almost
to a whisper. “Other people may fail me in emergencies, but it seems to
me you are always there.”
Nor did Marjorie’s words express the real depth to which she was
touched. If this scheme worked, she might be able to reach the girls
whom she still felt to be outside of her influence. About Stella and
Annie she was no longer concerned; they not only took basketball
seriously, but athletics had really opened up a new life for them. They
had told her that they were going regularly to the Y. W. C. A. for
swimming instruction; their nights were so crowded now that there was
little time for frivolity. Moreover, both girls were enlarging their
circles of friends to include those more interested in the real things
in life. It was almost as if they had received a fresh start; she felt
satisfied that they would no longer drift.
She next thought of the school girls—Dot Williams and the twins;
they were apparently headed in the right direction; but what about
Queenie and Clara and Aggie? Of all the patrol these were the most
pleasure-loving, the most flighty, and, with the exception of Queenie,
the most irresponsible. Could she possibly hope to interest them in
charitable work of any kind? Would they turn in disgust from contact
with suffering in any form? Perhaps they might be bored by it, but at
least they could not ridicule it. Only someone less than a human being
could fail to be affected by a sight so pathetic as the one John had
described.
The remainder of Marjorie’s vacation passed all too quickly; there were
shopping expeditions, rides with her mother in her own little car,
evenings with John at home. Almost before she realized it, she was back
at college, sharing in pleasant little celebrations in her roommate’s
honor.
She could not fight off an intangible sense of loneliness as she drove
into the city to her first scout meeting of the new year. It was not
so much that she missed Lily on this one particular occasion, but that
she felt it to be symbolic of her days to come. In the eight years of
her school life away from home, no one had been so close to her as this
girl. At last she was to be separated from her; she sighed, but she
would not alter the situation if she could. It was lovely for Lily to
be so happy.
Her spirits rose, however, as she drew up to the settlement and found
Queenie and Stella waiting for her just inside the door. Regardless of
the fact that they wore neither hats nor coats, they both rushed out in
the cold to greet her.
“You didn’t elope, then, did you, Miss Wilkinson?” demanded Queenie.
“We were almost afraid you’d give us the slip!”
“Nothing like that, Queenie,” Marjorie replied laughingly. “How about
you?”
“Her sweetie’s out of town,” Stella answered for her. “Slipped off
without even coming across with a Christmas present.”
Inwardly Marjorie breathed a sigh of thanksgiving. She hoped fervently
that “Sam” was gone for good.
All the rest of the troop were already assembled in the scout room, and
Marjorie felt something of the joyousness of homecoming in her welcome.
There was no doubt about their genuine pleasure in her return. She felt
hopeful about launching her new plans.
The girls, however, were eager to talk of basket-ball; they wanted to
hear Marjorie’s opinion of the match game, and Jack’s; they demanded
the rest of their League schedule, and they insisted upon discussing
their opponents.
“The whole thing is arranged very fortunately for us,” remarked
Marjorie. “We have two easy teams to play next—at least I hope they’ll
be easy—from Troop Thirty-five, and Troop Eighteen. Then in February
we meet Troop Six, and the very last League game of the season is our
team against One-Sixty One!”
“Hooray!” shouted Queenie gleefully. “Lady Luck sure is with us!
Remember I said we’d whitewash Sixteen and Thirty-five? Well, there’s
no doubt about it now, after we trimmed Ninety-seven so neat!”
“I have one sad piece of news for our troop, though,” interrupted
Marjorie: “Miss Andrews has announced her engagement to Mr. Roberts,
and feels that she hasn’t time enough to play on our team any longer.
She wants to be with her fiancé on Saturday evenings.”
“Good night!” cried Stella in dismay. “What did she have to go and get
engaged for—just when our team was pullin’ together so good!”
“Anyway we can be glad it ain’t—isn’t—you, Miss Wilkinson!” observed
Queenie.
“Or you!” returned Marjorie meaningly.
“And it’s a good thing we got Sophia. But say, we’ve got a get another
sub. Any of you kids done any work over Christmas?”
All three of the tenderfoot scouts shook their heads guiltily.
“Let’s make it a race,” suggested Marjorie, “and see who can be ready
first. I’ll telephone Mr. Richards.”
“That’ll fix ’em—they’ll get to work!” Queenie assured her jokingly.
“Specially Goldie—she’s entirely gone on him.”
Reluctantly Marjorie put aside the subject of basketball and steeled
herself to put forward her new proposition.
“Girls,” she began, “would you be willing to dress some dolls for some
children in a hospital ward?”
“I can’t sew!” announced Annie Marshall immediately.
“And I hate it!” volunteered Aggie.
Marjorie’s spirits fell. But remembering the hike, she decided not to
insist.
“All right, then—that’s all about that,” she said as cheerfully as she
could.
But when the girls were adjourning their meeting to the basketball
floor, she was surprised to hear Goldie and Dot bring the subject up
again.
“Miss Wilkinson,” whispered Dot, “Goldie and I would love to dress some
dolls for sick children. Will you tell us about it?”
Marjorie’s heart warmed towards these girls—almost children themselves
in comparison to herself. She told them gladly of her idea—that the
troop dress some and take them to the hospital in person.
“Bring them next week!” Goldie pleaded, “and we’ll make all the others
envious. Just you watch!”
Marjorie was only too delighted to promise that she would. Her one
regret was that it was not Queenie who offered.