If Nathalie was surprised at the deftness and resourcefulness of these
Girl Pioneers, she was amazed at the ease and comfort she experienced as
the four girls strode forward, two at the head and two at the foot of
the improvised stretcher.
Notwithstanding the sharp twinges in her foot, she felt as if she could
have dropped into a doze if a sudden, jarring thought had not caused her
to raise her head in search of her next-door neighbor. By the decision
of her voice and her methodical manner of directing her companions as
they prepared the "bed of ease," Nathalie had recognized this girl as
the leader.
But Helen Dame was not to be seen. One of the girls, however, on seeing
Nathalie's movement, commanded a halt and hastened to her side. "What
can I do for you?" she inquired in an anxious tone. "Are you in pain?"
Her ready sympathy brought the tears to Nathalie's eyes, for her nerves
were somewhat under a strain, but she fought them bravely back, and
looking up with a reassuring smile replied, "Oh no, I am all right, but
I was looking for Miss Dame. I am afraid if Mother sees me on a
stretcher, she will think something very dreadful has happened."
"Ah, Helen thought of that," was the quick reply, "and she has gone
ahead to tell your mother that you have only hurt your foot, and to see
if she can get Dr. Morrow to come over and look at it."
"Oh, how kind of her--and of you all--" there was a slight tremor in
Nathalie's voice. "I am sure I do not know what would have become of me,
alone there in the woods, if you girls had not come to my rescue."
As the girls walked slowly on with their burden, the one walking by the
side of the stretcher told Nathalie that they were a group of Girl
Pioneers, that they had been on a hike, and that her name was Grace
Tyson. As they chatted pleasantly, Nathalie told of her recent removal
from the city to Westport. With wise forethought she suppressed all
mention of her former wealth and the many luxuries she had been used to,
for fear that these suburban girls, not comprehending, might misjudge
her and think that she considered herself above them. She had learned
from the girls of her own set in school that when a newcomer took
particular care to advise them how rich she was, her mates usually
dubbed her a snob. So she only told of her great loss in the death of
her father, how Dick, her older brother, had injured his knee in an
accident and was an invalid, and how she liked her new home.
In the companionship of this new girl she scarcely realized how quickly
the time had passed until she saw her mother's anxious face bending over
her, and heard a masculine voice say, "Well, is this the young lady who
reached too high?"
Nathalie looked quickly up and immediately her heart went out to this
big, bluff man with iron-gray hair and kindly blue eyes who picked her
up as if she had been a manikin, carried her into the hall, and laid her
on the couch. She recognized the face of the doctor who lived on the
opposite corner whom she had often envied as he went chugging down the
street in his automobile.
After the doctor had pressed her foot here and there with a touch as
soft as silk from the gentleness of trained fingers, he brought forth
some surgical plaster from a black case, and strapped the injured
member, remarking as he did so on the surgeon-like way in which Miss
Dame had bandaged it.
After the "exam," as Dick called it, was over, the doctor explained the
case as a few strained ligaments, and said that with care his patient
would be able to walk in about a week.
"A week?" sprang from the young girl involuntarily. Dismay shone in her
eyes, but the doctor, with a fatherly pat, assured her that she had
great cause for gratitude, as it might have been much worse.
"The next time you go to gather dogwood blossoms, young lady," he
advised jovially, "wear rubber heels, and then you won't slip on
stones."
As the doctor bade her good afternoon, promising to come again in a few
days to see how the foot was progressing, Nathalie thought of her
rescuers, and raising her head peered anxiously around.
"The girls have gone, but they left a good-by for you," her mother
answered to her look of inquiry, "and Miss Dame says she will be in
to-morrow to see how you are."
By to-morrow Nathalie had begun to think it was not at all unpleasant to
be a short-time invalid, and she jokingly requested her mother to see
that her head was not screwed around from sheer conceit at being the
recipient of so much attention.
Mrs. Morrow, the doctor's young wife, had sent her a beautiful bunch of
yellow daffodils from the very garden that Nathalie had been admiring
all the week, while the little, silver-haired old lady next
door--Nathalie could have hugged her, she looked so grand-motherly--had
sent her a snow-frosted nut-cake. Lucille--an unheard-of thing--had
condescended to alight from her pedestal of self and had played and sung
Nathalie's favorite selections all the morning. Even Dorothy, whose
engagement book was always brimming over, had darned stockings for her.
Of course, Nathalie knew that she would have to rip out every stitch,
but that was the child's way of showing that she, too, wanted to be
sympathetic and kind.
The success of the day, however, was when Helen Dame's dark eyes smiled
at her from the adjoining porch, and she asked if Nathalie felt like
chatting for a while.
"Indeed I do," answered Nathalie animatedly, "I have been just dying to
talk with you ever since you were so kind."
"Oh, how sweet you look!" exclaimed Helen a few moments later as she
shook hands with the patient, "with your pink ribbons--just the color of
your cheeks." For the girl's color had deepened as her visitor laid a
bunch of violets on her lap. "These are from the girls, the Girl
Pioneers--that is our Pioneer song," she added laughingly.
"I just love violets!" Nathalie sniffed at the purple petals. "And the
girls, do you mean the ones who so kindly came to my aid the other day?
Oh, Miss Dame, I hardly know how to express my appreciation of your
kindness," her voice trembled slightly, "in hurrying home to tell
Mother."
"Oh, that was nothing," replied Helen with assumed indifference,
although her eyes darkened in appreciation of Nathalie's gratefulness,
"that was only courtesy; you know we are Girl Pioneers, and kindness is
one of the laws of the organization."
"Do you know," Nathalie broke in impulsively, "Mother thinks the girls
very clever in making that stretcher; do tell me about the Girl
Pioneers!" She hesitated for a moment. "Perhaps I am very ignorant, but
I never heard of them until your mother told mine that you were a Girl
Pioneer."
Helen laughed with a gratified gleam in her eyes. "Oh, Mother!--she
thinks it just the dandiest thing going. Mrs. Morrow, our Director,
introduced the movement here. The founder is a friend of hers, so she is
steeped to her finger-tips with it.
"She started me going--enthusiasm is contagious, you know--and I organized
the first group. A group means six or eight girls; several groups form
what is called a band."
"Do you mean Mrs. Morrow, the doctor's wife?" inquired her companion.
"She must be lovely, for she looks so pretty flitting about the garden,"
turning wistful eyes toward the corner house with its flower beds and
green lawn. "I often watch her from my window."
"Yes, she is a dear," assented Helen, "and we girls adore her. Have you
seen the twins?"
"The kiddies who go about in khaki uniforms and carry little poles."
"Yes, baby Boy Scouts. You should hear them call themselves 'the twims';
they both lisp. But there, I must tell you about the Pioneers--but I
don't want to tire you," she paused abruptly, "for Mother says there is
no end to me when I get talking on that subject."
"But I want to hear about them!" pleaded Nathalie.
"Well, after I organized the group, the girls elected me leader, and
Grace Tyson--that's the girl who walked beside you coming home--my
assistant. You see every group has to have a leader and an assistant
from the group, and then when a band is formed there is a Director. Any
one over twenty-one years of age can be a Director. After we formed our
group, we had to get busy and qualify."
"Qualify?" repeated her hostess, "that sounds big."
"Yes, every Girl Pioneer has to qualify, that is to pass several tests
to prove that she is competent to do the work. It is no end of fun
training a girl to qualify, for you know she has to recite the Girl
Pioneer pledge, and the Pioneer laws; she must give the names of the
President and Vice-President of the United States, the name of the
Governor of the State in which she lives, and then tell all about our
country's flag. She must know how to sew a button on properly," Helen
made a grimace, "to tie a square knot and to do several other things.
After a girl has passed these tests, she becomes a third-class Pioneer;
then after a month she can qualify for a second-class Pioneer, and
finally for a first-class Pioneer. We can win merit badges, too, for
proficiency in certain lines. Yes, you are right, it is a big thing to
be a Girl Pioneer, for every true Pioneer's aim is to be courageous,
resourceful, and upright, under all circumstances and in all
emergencies.
"You know, we have to pledge ourselves to speak the truth at all times,
to be honest in all things, and to obey the Pioneer law." Helen's face
grew serious. "Yes, and our laws mean something, too, for they stand for
the doing of things that are worth while, the things that develop
nobility of character, for, as Mrs. Morrow tells us, it is character
that makes the great men and women of the world.
"But don't think we are serious all the time," she continued, her eyes
brightening, "for we have heaps of fun. We take hikes; sometimes just a
group go with their leader, but generally our Director takes the band.
On these hikes we study woodcraft; that means we study the birds, their
habits, and learn to know their songs and call-notes. We gather wild
flowers, ferns, and grasses, and each girl reads up about the particular
thing she finds and passes the information along. We study the trees,
and the animals also by tracking their footmarks--well, to sum it all up,
we study nature from growing things and living creatures.
"To read about things in a book is all right, Mrs. Morrow says, as it is
helpful in identification and suggestion, but we strive to know things
through personal experience. We are taught to find nature, too, in the
crowded cities. That's big, isn't it?"
"Big!" echoed Nathalie, "the word _big_ isn't big enough to express it.
I should say it meant--well"--she held out her arms, "the universe."
There was something so responsive in her words and attitude, although
they did not exactly express what she meant to convey, that Helen, with
almost boyish frankness, held out her hand, crying, "Good! let's shake.
You are simply immense, Miss Page, or, in the words of our old French
professor at school, 'you--haf--much com--pree--henshun!'" This was said in
mimic tone with laughing eyes, a shrug of the shoulders, and with
outspread hands.
"We have indoor rallies, or Pioneer circles, also, Miss Page, when our
Director gives us delightful little talks on ethical culture,--only ten
minutes--" she pleaded laughingly, "also on history, astronomy,--we call
them our star talks,--and other instructive subjects.
"You will be surprised, perhaps, but these talks are very interesting,
not at all tiresome. The girls listen with all their ears and we learn
an awful lot. One reason is that Mrs. Morrow loves young girls--for you
see, she isn't so very much older than we are--and she knows just how to
talk to us, so that we don't feel as if we were being preached at, or
having wisdom jammed down our throats. It is just dramatizing serious
things through play, so as to make us remember them as well as
entertaining us. Then we have spelling-contests, cooking-matches,--I call
them trials by fire,--sewing-bees, and all sorts of old-fashioned
things."
"But you have outdoor sports, too, do you not?" asked her listener, who
was intensely interested.
"Indeed we do, any number of them: swimming, horseback-riding, rowing,
canoeing, basket-ball, tennis, dancing, stilt-walking,--we make our own
stilts,--kite-flying,--and we make our own kites, too. In fact, we do just
about everything that stands for healthful recreation and wholesome fun.
Isn't that comprehensive enough?"
"How did you come to take the name 'Pioneer'?"
"Well, you see it was this way; as the Boy Scouts strive to imitate the
chivalry and higher qualities of the knights of olden times, so we,
their sister organization, endeavor to emulate the sterling qualities of
the early pioneer women. They learned to be courageous, resourceful, and
efficient, as the home-makers of the brave men who founded this
Republic--"
"Do you mean the wives of the Puritans and Pilgrims?"
"Yes, we mean all those women, North, East, South, and West," Helen
declared smilingly, "who helped their good men to build homes in the
wilderness, who mothered their children with Spartan-like denial, and
who--yes, who knew how to handle an old flintlock when they heard the cry
of the Indian. Oh, no, I'm not originating, I am only an echo of Mrs.
Morrow, who is way up on Colonial history.
"The Pioneer Girls," she continued more seriously, "aim, by imitating
the many qualities of these splendid women, to be worthy wives and
mothers. Who knows?" she broke into a laugh, "the Girl Pioneers may be
the mothers of men like Washington, Lincoln--O dear," she stopped
suddenly, "I am talking as if I had to speed a thousand words a minute!"
"Oh, go on!" cried Nathalie, inspired by her guest's fervency, "I just
love to hear you talk."
"It is very good of you to say that," declared Helen with a slight
blush, "but I am almost 'at the finish,' as the boys say. But I must not
forget to tell you that we love to gather around the open fire, cheer
fires we call them, and tell stories. We generally try to make them
stories about the pioneers, or heroic women, and sometimes we run in a
story about some brave kiddie, for you know almost every one loves to
hear about brave little children. Ah, that reminds me, did you ever hear
about Mary Chilton? She was a real pioneer girl you know, for she came
over with the Pilgrims." Helen nodded her head impressively.
"No, I have read about Lola Standish, and I believe--yes--I saw her
sampler once, and I am quite up on all the points of Priscilla's
courtship, but--"
"Who isn't?" replied Miss Dame, "for she was a dear. Mary Chilton was a
friend of hers. Why, don't you remember she was the girl who made the
bet with John Alden--slow old John--that when the little shallop struck
Plymouth Rock (of course they never dreamed that they were going to make
that old rock immortal) that she would jump on the rock first; and sure
enough she did manage to land a second or so before John Alden."
"Well, the Girl Pioneers aim high," declared Nathalie, "and I certainly
think they must be worthwhile girls. I shall love to meet your Pioneer
friends--they cheered me up--" she added, "for they made me think of the
girls at school, especially Grace Tyson. Why, she is so much like my
chum that it almost seemed as if I were talking to her the other day!
Your friends all have such happy faces, and 'it is such a relief to see
good red cheeks as made by Mother Nature,' as Mother says. Some of the
girls one sees in the cities nowadays have such a made-up appearance,
especially those on the avenue Saturday afternoons in New York."
"Yes, they have regular clown faces with their splashes of red, and
their powdered noses," returned her neighbor laughingly. "I always feel
as if I wanted to tell them they had forgotten to rub the flour off. It
doesn't seem possible that any well-bred girl could think she looks nice
all dabbed up in that way. But there, I am tiring you," she added
hastily, "so I am going to say good-by. Oh, I came very near forgetting
to ask if you would like to have the girls call on you--I mean the girls
of our group?" she hesitated. "I think you would like them, although
they may not be as fashionable as your city friends."
"Oh, but they are the kind of girls I like," protested Nathalie
hurriedly, "for I do not care for girls who are nothing but fuss and
feathers. Please do bring your friends, for I know I shall like them,
and then, too, they may tell me more about the good times you have."
"Indeed they will," said Helen with decision; "they will be only too
pleased. When shall we come, will Thursday be a good day for you?"
"Yes, indeed; I shall be here--still in this old chair I presume; I shall
watch for them with great impatience, for you know," she added a little
sadly, "they remind me of my schoolmates in the city. Oh, I have missed
them dreadfully! Now, be sure to come--all of you!"
She rose in her chair to wave a good-by to her new friend, who, as she
reached the gate, had turned and waved her hand.
Nathalie sank back in her chair with tear-dimmed eyes, for somehow that
friendly salute had brought it all back--the faces of her merry comrades,
and the happy care-free hours they had spent together. She swallowed
hard, for Helen had waved her hand just the way the girls used to do
when they came in afternoons for a chatty little visit, and then hurried
away with just such a parting salute.