THE WINTER NEST COUNCIL
Before eight o'clock that night the Blue Birds and their mothers were
assembled in the living-room ready for a council. The children had not
seen the den for a few days and stared in delight as they filed into the
room. Mrs. Talmage had purposely had all meet together before mentioning
that they might as well spend the evening in the Winter Nest.
"Why, Mother Wings, when _did_ you fix this up?" asked Ruth, as much
surprised as the others.
Mrs. Talmage smiled, but said nothing.
The guests looked about and admired the unique charm of the Blue Bird
quarters for the winter, and Betty ventured the question: "What has
become of our other chairs?"
The room had all been renovated. The windows were hung with snow-flake
madras, and the floor covered with heavy knotted white rag carpet that
looked like snow freshly packed. The walls had been repapered with a
sparkling white paper which glistened like ice in the electric light.
From the wainscoting to the picture rail branches of dark green spruce
and pine were fastened and upon these green needles were caught flakes
of make-believe snow--made of white cotton-batting with diamond dust
powdered on it. The furniture of the summer Nest had been brought in
late that afternoon and the slip covers, which had been made for it,
were slipped over until the thick white covers hid the familiar chairs
under the novelty cloth that looked like snow-drifts. The whole effect
was so beautiful that the children danced about with joy.
"Well, we must get at our work," reminded Aunt Selina, after enough
chairs had been brought in for all.
"I walked over with Mr. Wells and he was quite surprised to find I was
coming to the house," said Mrs. Wells, laughingly.
"I never said a word to Mr. Talmage or his brother," confided Mrs.
Talmage, smiling at the secret.
"Mr. Stevens knows I am at this council with Betty, but he hasn't the
faintest idea for what," admitted Mrs. Stevens.
And so it was that not one of the men who had formed the habit of
dropping in to help the Bobolinks could imagine what their wives were
doing with the Blue Birds.
If the inmates of the Winter Nest that night could have seen the
questioning faces of the boys and men when it was known that a meeting
of mothers was being held, they would have felt the balm of satisfaction
applied to wounded pride.
Mrs. Talmage showed the sample of paper and, after a discussion of merit
and price, a selection was made of an artistic grey paper to be printed
in blue--the colors of the Blue Birds.
"We must have envelopes to match, mother," said Ruth.
"I never thought of that, but it is so!" admitted Mrs. Talmage.
"I know the address of a firm where Mr. Wells has all of his
'made-to-order' envelopes made--we will get them to do it," suggested
Mrs. Wells.
"What a relief to hear that offer!" sighed Mrs. Talmage. "I was just
wondering where I could find anyone who would make them for us."
"It also goes to prove that many heads gathered to discuss Blue Bird
affairs are better than one, and I suggest that we meet at least once a
week," suggested Aunt Selina.
So it was then and there agreed that the mothers would come regularly to
hold a council in the Winter Nest with the Blue Birds.
"Just as soon as the envelopes come back we can begin to address from
mother's big book, can't we?" asked Norma.
"If there's only one book, how can all of this crowd read it at the same
time and then write down the names?" demanded Dot Starr.
"Why, we won't have to do that work," added Mrs. Wells. "There's a firm
in the city that addresses envelopes for a dollar a thousand."
"Another fine hint! I'm sure I'd rather pay my share than risk Dot's
ruining dozens of envelopes with ink," laughed Mrs. Starr, patting Dot
on the hand.
"We wouldn't want to write 'em in here, because the snow would freeze
our fingers so the ink would spatter all over," said Dot, ludicrously.
"Yes, I suppose these lovely covers would be speckled black by the time
the Blue Birds completed, say, fifty thousand addresses," laughed Aunt
Selina.
"I would vote against Edith's writing--I fear the person would never get
the letter--it would go straight to the Dead Letter Office," said Mrs.
Wilson, pulling Edith's curls.
As everyone knew how Edith hated writing and never could write a legible
hand, a laugh went up, in which Edith joined heartily.
So the Blue Birds were spared the arduous task of copying thousands of
names.
"I have heard that these large addressing bureaus prefer to employ
children--I wonder why?"
"Because children just finishing grammar school are more careful in
forming letters and can write much better than adults. Besides, they
have to pay children but a third that an adult would demand for his
labor," explained Mrs. Wells.
"Why, isn't that just as bad as working children in a factory?"
questioned Miss Selina.
"The rooms that I visited are just as bad. The girls are crowded close
together in a wretchedly lighted room without ventilation, and they sit
writing all day with their poor backs bent double and fingers grown
crooked from habit," said Mrs. Wells.
"Goodness! Can't we do something to stop it?" cried Mrs. Starr.
"They have to have the money for home needs, and it isn't quite as bad,
you know, as working all day in cold water to your knees, opening
oysters at a cent a hundred."
"Oh, dear, dear! don't tell me any more," half wept Aunt Selina. "I feel
like a criminal to think I lost all of these years with money piling up
in the bank that could have helped hundreds of these little workers.
Let's get busy this minute!"
"It would be nice to take all these little workers to the country,
wouldn't it?" queried Mrs. Talmage.
"Yes, yes! But, Mary, don't delay me longer in this work--I have so many
years to make up, and so little time to do it in," mourned Aunt Selina.
"All right! Now that is settled--we hire a firm to do the addressing,
and Mrs. Wells will see to the envelopes. What next?" said Mrs. Talmage.
"Oh, Mother Wings, don't forget about that book--you know?" reminded
Ruth.
"Oh, of course! One of our great secrets! Here is a volume loaned us by
Mr. White, of the Oakdale Paper Mills, and it has the addresses of all
the stationers in the country," explained Mrs. Talmage. "He suggested
that we send a sample magazine to each, with a letter stating agents'
commissions and price of subscription."
"And that reminds me--the book you wrote for was given me to bring in
to-night, and I left it out in the hall," said Mrs. Wells, turning to
Frances and asking her to get it.
The institution book was brought in, and its pages eagerly scanned.
"My! what a lot of poor children there are!" said Dot sympathetically.
"It doesn't seem possible, does it?" said Mrs. Starr, turning to the
others.
"We never realize what needs there are for help until we face something
of this sort," said Mrs. Talmage, turning page after page. Suddenly she
stopped.
"Has anyone here an idea of how many dependent little ones there are in
the United States alone?"
Heads were silently shaken, and Mrs. Talmage continued:
"There are 87,000 children's institutions--homes, hospitals, asylums,
and homes for cripples that are mostly supported by gifts, philanthropy,
or legacies. About one-fourth of these are partially controlled by the
state. The number of inmates in these institutions amounts to 1,740,520
children. Think of it! Practically a million and three-quarters! How
terrible!" And Mrs. Talmage had to find her handkerchief to dry her eyes
at the picture of so many, many dear little ones bereft of home and
mother-love.
"Mary, Mary, I shall have to run away from here if you keep on!" cried
Aunt Selina.
"But, Aunty, it is not your fault, and you must not feel this way,
especially as you are doing so much to improve the conditions," said
Mrs. Talmage.
"Well, mother, I should say that if there are 87,000 addresses to send
letters to, we'd better begin that letter now, and not spoil Flutey's
pleasure by thinking of all the things she never did," advised Ruth,
very sensibly.
"Yes, that letter is very important--let us compose it," said Aunt
Selina.
After an hour of writing and rewriting, Mrs. Talmage read aloud the
result of their labor:
"Dear Friend:
"The Blue Birds of Oakdale have started a philanthropic work which must
appeal to everyone who is willing to help our poor children. A magazine
is being published, a sample of which is being sent you, that will
contain instructive, helpful, interesting articles.
"Perhaps you know that there are 87,000 benevolent institutions in this
country filled with over a million and a half poor children, to whom
this magazine will prove a welcome visitor. The cost of producing this
magazine is partially paid for by donations, and the profit of the work
is all devoted to a settlement in the country where the city children
can spend the summer.
"Inclosed find a subscription blank. Make all checks payable to 'Blue
Birds of Happy Times Nest.'"
"Wish we had time to run over to the Bobolinks and order fifty thousand
of these letters," suggested Dot.
"Oh, wouldn't it be fun to see their faces!" laughed Norma.
"Maybe we will have time--it is only five minutes to nine," announced
Mrs. Talmage, looking at her watch.
"We can try it--we will walk down the path, and if we find they are
leaving we can keep our own council until another night," said Mrs.
Talmage, as everyone rose hurriedly to go.
The children hurried on before, while the ladies followed more sedately.
The heavy doors were closed, but an opening about a foot wide left space
enough for Ruth to squeeze through and pull one of the sliding doors
along the groove to admit the other visitors.
The men had been lounging about, talking and watching their sons work,
but upon the entrance of the ladies everyone arose in surprise.
"Rather a late hour for a call, dear," ventured Mr. Stevens.
"Oh, not at all. We were attending a business meeting, and found it
necessary to leave an order with the Bobolinks."
"An order--what kind of an order?" questioned Ned dubiously.
Mrs. Talmage handed over the copy of the letter she wanted printed, and
directed the company to get out a proof as soon as possible, for they
would need about fifty thousand.
"Fifty thousand!" gasped the boys, while the men looked incredulous.
The Blue Birds could not restrain a giggle at the utter amazement of the
Bobolinks, and the ladies thoroughly enjoyed their husbands' surprise.
"Oh, well, I suppose it will take you a long time to run off so many, so
you may do ten thousand at a time," said Mrs. Talmage.
The Bobolinks could find no words with which to reply, and the men
seemed to have lost their tongues also. While Mrs. Talmage waited for an
answer, Don scowled at his twin sister.
"I am still waiting to hear you accept the order," smiled Mrs. Talmage,
feeling that the Blue Birds had scored a point.
"Maybe you are not yet ready to do business," suggested Mrs. Wells, with
just a touch of sarcasm.
"Of course we are ready!" exclaimed several boys, faintly echoed by the
men.
"Then tell us how long will it be before you can show us a proof?" asked
Mrs. Talmage.
"H'm! We will have to consult," replied Ned, as he beckoned some of the
Bobolinks to the rear of the room.
The Blue Birds were so delighted at catching the Bobolinks napping that
they danced up and down, finding it very difficult to keep their secret.
Don was the first to come over to the ladies.
"Say, what do you want that letter for? Where will you ever get paper
enough to print ten thousand--we can't buy it for you," he growled.
"Don, come back here and mind your business!" shouted Meredith.
"When you return to the boys, please ask them to hurry, as we have
another letter to ask them about--we may need 100,000 of these," said
Mrs. Starr sweetly.
The Blue Birds noticed that their fathers looked sceptical at the last
sentence.
"You never made up a list like that!" grunted Don, looking at the Blue
Birds with fire shining in his eyes.
"What do you think we were doing while you spent your evenings having a
good time?" retorted Dot.
"Humph!" was the only reply Don granted his sister.
"Folks said this summer that we Blue Birds were little hustlers, but I
never paid much attention to them then; but _now_ I think we are
hustlers when I see the way you Bobolinks poke away for two weeks and
nothing to show for it," teased May.
Mr. Wells was called over to join the conference of the Bobolinks before
an answer was given the Blue Birds.
"We will set this type and run off a proof by to-morrow evening; will
that do?" said Ned, coming forward with the letter.
The Blue Birds thought it would take the boys about three days to set
type and give a proof, so it was their turn to be surprised. Mrs.
Talmage seemed to understand, however, and replied in a very
condescending voice:
"Oh, yes, to-morrow will be Saturday, and Uncle Ben will be here at
noon. That will be fine, for, of course, he will show you what to do;
and I am sure he knows just what he would like for the purpose."
The looks exchanged between the Bobolinks and Mr. Wells were sufficient
proof that Mrs. Talmage was right in her surmise, but the Blue Birds
were too polite to say anything more.
The men said it was long past closing hours, so the lights were
extinguished, and the whole party went out into the cool night air.
Early Saturday morning the Blue Birds met again in their pretty Winter
Nest, and Mrs. Talmage told them what she had thought over since the
night before.
"Since Uncle Ben will be here all afternoon to supervise the work, I
think it would be as well for us to form the letter for the
philanthropists, too; then he can help the Bobolinks set the type."
The Blue Birds agreed that this was a wise plan, and so the letter was
discussed and composed. This done, they went to the Publishing House
with the copy, and told the boys what they wanted. The Bobolinks were
hunting for the right style of type and fussing about the machines so as
to have them in readiness for the afternoon.
Uncle Ben arrived at noon, and the boys placed their work under his
supervision. From the expression on his face when he read the letters,
it appeared that he understood the plans the Blue Birds were keeping so
quiet.
"What are you smiling at, Uncle Ben?" asked Ned, keen to find out what
the Blue Birds were planning.
"At the remarkable progress the Blue Birds have made since I last
visited you," returned Uncle Ben.
"Why, they haven't done anything--much," grumbled Don.
"Only fixed up these two letters for us to print," added Meredith.
"They haven't done their usual sewing and playing in the cherry-tree
nest, either," said Jinks.
"Is that so? Well, how do you know _what_ they have been doing without
your knowledge?" asked Uncle Ben laughingly.
The boys looked at him, and their eyes asked the question, "What?"
"As an old magazine man, I can see signs in these two letters that tell
me of two tremendous pieces of work being started--and being very nicely
handled, too. Why, I would not be surprised to have the Blue Birds fly
down upon this Publishing House some day and settle here long enough to
say that they had a paid-up subscription list of ten thousand! At any
rate, you boys had better prepare to print about fifty thousand sample
copies of the first magazine."
The faces of the Bobolinks looked as if their owners must sit down or
collapse. Uncle Ben laughed heartily at them.
"Ah, you're only fooling us, as usual," ventured Ned.
"No, siree! I am not. Wait and see," returned Uncle Ben.
Without further discussion, Uncle Ben showed the boys the proper style
of type to use for a letter, then helped them run off a proof of both
letters.
"This will show the Blue Birds that we are not so slow but that we can
turn out samples in up-to-date style," said Ned, as he admired the
printing.
"Now, run off a few letters on this paper," ordered Uncle Ben, producing
some beautiful bond paper.
"My, but it's pretty! Where'd you get it, Uncle Ben?" asked Ned.
"I brought it out for the Blue Birds' inspection, but I shouldn't doubt
but that they have already attended to that detail, so we will present
our proof all finished on my paper."
"Now, tell us, Uncle Ben, why you think the Blue Birds have a big plan
of their own," entreated Ned.
Uncle Ben smiled and reminded the boys to keep his words from becoming
public property.
"I should say that the fact that the Blue Birds have not been near their
old Nest all week, when the weather is so glorious, proves that they
have a deeper interest elsewhere. Now, what can that be? Here you have a
hint of part of the interest," and Uncle Ben waved the letters at the
boys. "How do I know?
"Take these two letters--either one of them would startle a slow
circulation manager in the city if he thought a competitor suddenly
produced it! Why, in some way the Blue Birds have found a way to reach
book stores, stationers, and similar business places. Then, too, the
mention of needing thousands shows me they have found a mine of
addresses that is worth a large price to a publisher."
"Ah, Uncle Ben, you're wrong there! The Blue Birds haven't gone
anywhere, and no one has been here to tell them how to get such names,"
said Ned.
Without replying to Ned's words, Uncle Ben continued:
"Then, too, they must have the institution work well under consideration
or they would not have ordered the form letter--and hinted at the size
of the order."
The boys shook their heads, unwilling to admit that Uncle Ben's surmises
sounded practical.
"Lastly, they have their paper selected, because they told you the size
this sheet of printing is to be; and therefore they must know how deep a
margin they will need. To get the size of their printing correct, they
would have to know how many sheets will cut out of a large sheet of
paper, and order it cut accordingly."
"If they have done all those things that you say they have, they are
'way ahead of us Bobolinks," grumbled Don.
Uncle Ben laughed and advised:
"Boys, work _with_ these Blue Birds, not against them or ahead of them.
Do not think that just because they are girls, and you are boys, that
they are going to remain in the shade and let you boys come out and
shine in the light. If you boys ever do business in the city, you will
find that a woman will contest your right at every step, for to-day's
women are equal in every way to the men--I rather think a number of them
are superior to the men. These Blue Birds are but a proof of what I say.
They will not permit the Bobolinks to walk off with the honors that are
due them." And Uncle Ben chuckled at the idea.
"Well, Uncle Ben, you'll help us in every way until we are even with the
girls, won't you?" asked Ned.
"And you won't help the Blue Birds any more, will you?" asked Don.
"I am absolutely neutral," replied Uncle Ben, holding both hands up over
his head. "I won't take sides, but I will help the work along in every
way, for I want it to succeed. I'll help you when you need it, and I'll
help these little Blue Birds. But do as I said: Work together, not in a
spirit of rivalry, for that will only sow seeds of strife and
discontent."
"Come on, boys, let's take Uncle Ben to the house and show our letter
proofs to the Blue Birds," said Ned.
So the Bobolinks were taught their lesson in trying to win a race by
running for a time and then resting.