THE BOTTLED WARNING
"OH, how curious!" This from Grace.
"Like a mountain house at the seashore. All field stones and rustic
trimmings," commented Louise.
"We think it simply great," declared Cleo. "Come along till I show you
the big attic. It was built for a studio, and looks right over the
ocean. I never dreamed seashore landlords could offer for rent such a
wonder house as this."
"Folks tire of things so easily, and continually long for change, I
suppose," said Louise. "But you were lucky to get this, Cleo. I fancy
one of the many artists coming here would love to have found it first."
"Can you imagine an entire house trimmed with rough cedar? And just see
the length of these cedar beams! Fully forty feet; they go straight from
one end of the house to the other," declared Cleo, proudly pointing out
the novelties of the Log Cabin.
"And just see here!" exclaimed Grace. "A real dogwood tree trimmed with
the most perfect paper flowers. Isn't that simply lovely!"
This last found attraction was a novelty indeed, for it was nothing less
than a fine sized dogwood tree standing against a latticed cedar screen;
and this tree of natural wood was decorated with perfectly made paper
flowers--quite as if the original blooms had developed into the
"everlasting" variety. A wonderful fireplace of field stones opened in
the living room, and sent its tower clear to the studio on the third
floor; while every board and stick in the cottage was either of rough
natural cedar, or the same wood chastened to bring out the marvellous
tones of color that can only be described as cedar.
It was, in truth, a remarkable summer home; and while we leave the girls
here to explore its glories, we may take a moment to recall the other
two volumes of this series: "The Girl Scout Pioneers; or Winning the
First B. C." and the second "The Girl Scouts at Bellaire; or Maid Mary's
Awakening."
In the first we were treated to an intimate view of girl scouting as it
is worked out in the groups known as patrols and troops. The True Tred
Troop of Flosston, a Pennsylvania mill town, was composed of a lively
little company indeed, and these American girls were given an
opportunity of working and lending influence to a group of mill girls,
whose quaint characteristics and innate resourcefulness make an
attractive background for our story picture.
How the runaway girls were reclaimed, how a little woodland fairy,
Jacqueline, worked out a scout fantasy, and how a very modest deed won
the first Bronze Cross, makes the first volume of this series a book
calculated to inspire as well as to fascinate the reader.
The second volume: "The Girl Scouts at Bellaire," narrates the
remarkable experience of our True Treds in a mountain town in New
Jersey, where, while spending a vacation, they discover Maid Mary, the
orphan of the orchids, a child of strange fancies and queer tropical
influences, who has been made a victim of the orchid seekers to the
extent of being kept from her relations until the rare bulb is found by
the Girl Scouts.
The glory of the orchids, with their delightful colors and their rarest
of perfumes, permeates the story, while the vague, subtle influence of
queer foreigners lends sufficient clouds to bring out the real beauties
of the tale. The Girl Scout Series is intended to furnish the best sort
of good reading in an attractive style, suited at once to the needs of
the girl's mind, and her natural enjoyment of the story, while it will
stand the most critical censorship of parents and caretakers of the
plastic minds of young girls.
And now our girls are ransacking the Log Cabin from roof to landing,
(there is no cellar to the beach cottage) and on this the first day of
their vacation at Sea Crest, hours are all too short in which to cram
the joys of exploration.
"I have never seen a place like this," declared Grace, when all three
scouts came to a halt finally on the low couch under the indoor dogwood
tree. "We can have lovely parties here, can't we, Cleo?"
"Surely," agreed the hostess. "But girls, what shall we do about
scouting this summer?" she asked, diverting suddenly to a more serious
question. "You see, there is no troop here, and it is such an
opportunity for good scouting, with all the wilds of the ocean and
cliffs, as a background. I feel perhaps, we should organize. Suppose we
organize a summer troop of just our own girls? Margaret and Julia will
be here this week, and you know many more from school will be down
later."
"Oh let's call ourselves the Sea Gulls. Then we would have an excuse for
taking rides in that airplane that goes up from the park," suggested the
ever venturesome Grace.
"I'd like it," agreed Louise. "Then, too, we could wear our uniforms a
lot, and I am sure I shall have to wear something to help out on cutting
down laundry until real hot weather. Do you know, girls, there is no
such thing as obtaining help? And our Susie insisted on getting married,
so would not come down with us."
"And mother wouldn't even try to get a perfectly strange maid," said
Cleo. "I don't mind helping out by wearing a uniform on cool days, but I
don't believe I should enjoy doing a lot of housework. I would rather go
scouting for maids," she insisted.
"We might even do that," replied Grace, "but now let's hie to the next
cottage. I think mine is next."
It was so early in the season that not many of the summer places were
open, but in almost every cottage workers were busy, opening the boarded
windows, (all windows on the ocean side have to be boarded up to
withstand the winter storms) fixing up the grounds, opening garages, and
generally preparing for the summer influx.
"Here we are!" announced Grace, leading her companions up through the
well groomed lawn, then under the rose arch over which the word
"Rosabell" was wrought in rustic characters, with the rose vines
threading in and out, and punctuating each letter with sprays of buds
almost ready to bloom.
"Oh, isn't that pretty!" enthused Cleo. "I believe the light dainty
cottage is really prettier than our gloomy old log cabin."
"And such porch furniture!" enthused Louise. "You can have a lovely
scout meeting out here Grace. Let's hurry and organize so we can have a
meeting," suggested Louise in sincere compliment to "Rosabell."
Within the cottage the rooms were all done in a chintz and hung in
wonderful gauzy draperies, almost unknown to city houses, but quite
indispensable to the summer resort.
"And wait until you see my room," Grace told her friends. "I am sure you
will like it."
"Oh, a marine room," exclaimed Cleo, as they entered a corner all
decorated with sea trophies, including star fish, the sword of a sword
fish, tortoise shells, even fishing rods and queer tackle hung on the
background of seine or fish net, that almost covered one side of the
marine green walls.
"I chose this room although Benny wanted it," said Grace, "but I had
first choice, so he got an extra play room over the garage, where boys'
noise would not sound quite so telephonic," she ventured. "I wondered
why people left this sort of thing up in a summer cottage, where
usually, they say, things must be so sanitary and practical, but it
seems the boy who owned them was a Jackie, and his mother wouldn't have
the room disturbed."
"Sakes-a-live!" exclaimed Louise. "He may come in the window some night
while taking a stroll in his seaplane, Grace. Better keep a screen in
this lovely long window," she admonished.
"Oh, I shall, although I just love Jackies and intend to make a lot of
friends down at the life saving station. That is where we ought to be
able to apply some choice scouting," said Grace, rearranging a row of
green bound books, that, like everything else in the room, harmonized in
the marine effect.
"Don't go turning crabbed, or getting fishy, or even mermaiding in this
room, Grace," teased Cleo. "It is so effective I should rather fear the
effect taking root. Just look at this real little alligator and he is
actually strong enough to sit on! Did you ever see anything so cunning?"
The real little alligator or crocodile was actually standing on his
short hind legs, and in his front (shall we say paws?) he was holding a
flat piece of wood that served for the seat of the queer stool. It was
all very novel, and everyone decided "Rosabell" was one of the prettiest
cottages in Sea Crest.
"And having decided to organize the Sea Gulls," Louise remarked, "I
think this would be a particularly appropriate place to hold our
initiations."
"But I thought Cleo had formed a pirate's league?" teased Grace.
"Suppose our Captain Kidd fire-bug discovers who set off the beach
barrel fuse, and comes around for vengeance some night? Whoo-pee!" and
Grace demonstrated the revenge with an indescribable arm swing not
listed in her Swedish movements.
"I do think that is sort of queer," commented Cleo, "how that fire
started, and the way it burned. Did any one smell oil? All big
incendiary fires are oil soaked always, you know."
"It might have been oil or it might have been fish bones, but I did not
notice any pungent odor," declared Louise. "And now for _my_ cottage. I
am afraid there are no thrills left, so don't be too much disappointed."
"I am sure we will have enough thrills to applaud you, Weasie dear,"
said Grace. "It is so nice to have you with us this year. Of course we
are going to miss our baby Madaline, and it is a shame we cannot all
come to such a lovely summer place, but having you along does
compensate. And we are always hoping Madie will come later on. When will
Julia and Margaret arrive?"
"Early next week," Louise replied, "and Julia has the loveliest new
car."
"So have we, and so have you, and so has Cleo," replied Grace, rather
discounting the glory of the first mentioned. "They may not all be quite
as high-class as Julia's, but I am sure they are each perfectly first
rate. Here is ours coming in just now. Let's hop in, and Lenore will run
us over to your place, Weasie."