Nathalie's eyes dilated with terror, and her heart pounded with such
leaping beats that it almost choked her. She attempted to run, but alas,
her limbs seemed tied with ropes, and then she remembered the gun!
Just an instant and she had raised it, and with trembling hands was
pointing it at the enemy, who by this time had lightly vaulted the
wooden fence and was coming towards her. Nathalie's hand was feeling for
the trigger when, "Oh, don't shoot!" cried a voice in serio-comic tone,
"I surrender!" Up went two hands in pretended subjugation.
The girl gasped, dropped the gun, and then broke into hysterical
laughter as she cried, "Oh--is--that you?"
"Yes, it is I; Fred Tyson in the flesh!" rejoined the supposed murderer
coolly, as with a stride he was at her side and, stooping picked up the
gun.
The reaction was so great that for a moment Nathalie feared she was
going to cry, but controlling herself by a strong effort she exclaimed,
"Oh, I was sure you were a tramp," with a nervous giggle, "or a murderer
intent on killing me, and then hiding my body in the thicket yonder."
She shuddered.
"Great guns!" Fred exclaimed as he looked the gun over. "It is lucky
this thing didn't go off. By the Lord Harry, how did you come to be
carrying it?"
Nathalie, with a long breath of relief that all was well after her
fright, then told Fred how she came to be near the graveyard at that
time. Then suddenly remembering that she had not a minute to lose, she
cried hurriedly, "Oh, let us go on. I am afraid I am too late!"
"You're all hunky," returned Fred calmly. "You have plenty of time, for
I overheard Mrs. Morrow tell Helen to postpone her Stunt until one of
the last."
"But how did you come to be here, may I ask?" queried Nathalie as they
turned to walk up.
"Oh, I was in the next room and heard Helen tell you to go and get
something at her house. I started out to offer my services, but some one
buttonholed me for the next Stunt; I had forgotten I was in it. As soon
as it was over I hurried out to find you, but you had skipped. I rushed
after you, missed you, and then remembering that you would return this
way as it is the shortest, sat down on one of the tombstones to wait for
you. But you're the stuff, all right, Nathalie Page, you ought to have a
medal for bravery."
[Illustration: Up went two hands in pretended subjugation.]
He suddenly pointed the gun and then pulled the trigger.
Nathalie gave a shrill scream in a spasm of apprehension, and jumped to
one side. "Oh, please, don't do that, it might be loaded, you know!"
Fred threw his head back and burst into a hearty laugh. "Oh, ho, I see
you are not as nervy as I thought," there was a mischievous glint in his
merry black eyes. And then as if ashamed of torturing the nerve-racked
girl he cried soothingly, "Don't you fret, Miss Blue Robin; there isn't
any guess with me, I don't take chances. I saw it wasn't loaded when I
first picked it up, but come, let's hurry!"
"Please don't tell any one I was afraid!" pleaded Nathalie, as they
hastened on under the swaying branches of the trees that cast weird,
fanciful designs on the moon-mantled path. "They will think me an awful
coward and tease me unmercifully."
Fred assured her that he would keep mum, and added that she was not a
coward, but a very brave girl. Then, in response to a challenge to race
him to the Hall, they were off, Nathalie by this time having regained
her usual poise and nerve. She won the race, for Fred, desiring to be
gallant, dropped back a space or two just at the right time, and thus
allowed his partner to be the victor in this race of two blocks.
The gun was quickly delivered to Helen and then they hurried into the
hall in time to see the portraits of Henry Hudson, Edward Winslow,
William Penn, Governor Stuyvesant, and Captain Kidd and Henry Morgan,
two pirates of pioneer fame. These colonial portraits were produced by
their representatives standing behind a large wooden frame that had been
made by the Scouts, gilded by the Pioneers, and then placed in front of
a dark curtain.
Helen's Stunt proved to be a canvas background on which was painted a
log cabin. At the door of this pioneer home stood Helen with a baby
clinging to her skirts, pointing a gun at a skulking savage just
disappearing beyond a very fair representation of a clump of trees. This
picture of a mother of the wilderness was loudly encored, as it was
significant of the hardy courage displayed by the women of those early
days.
The last Stunt showed the Pioneers in line, each one with a big red
letter pinned to the skirt of her uniform; the combination making the
word "Pioneer Women." Giving bird-calls, building miniature log-cabins,
making camp fires, jumping, throwing the lifeline, as well as making the
motions of rowing and swimming, these and many other activities of the
organization were performed. The girls ended by falling into line again
and singing a farewell Pioneer song.
Mrs. Morrow now came forward, and after thanking the audience for their
kind attention and aid in helping make the affair a success by buying
tickets and by their presence, she announced that there would be another
entertainment, a Flag Drill, to take place on the fourteenth of that
month. It would be held in the rear of the home of Mrs. Van Vorst, that
lady having kindly offered her lawn for the affair.
The faces of the Pioneers, with the exception of Nathalie's and Helen's,
expressed unbounded surprise as they heard this announcement. As Fred
Tyson and two other Scouts passed slips of paper so that each one
present could write her or his opinion as to the best Stunt of the
evening, there was a merry clack of tongues as each girl queried how and
when this wonderful thing had come to pass.
Lillie Bell, who had been watching Nathalie, suddenly leaned forward
crying, "Nathalie Page, I just believe that you know all about it!"
Nathalie did her best to look bland and innocent when this accusation
was hurled at her, but the query was as a match to fire, and instantly
Nathalie was surrounded by a bevy of girls, all eagerly demanding that
she tell them how it came about.
"O dear, how should I know?" she demanded with seeming indignation.
"There, I told you she knew," declared the Sport, who at that moment
joined the group. "Her face betrays her! And then she is on the
committee."
Nathalie turned and flashed at Edith angrily, "Well, if I do know I am
not going to tell. If you want any information go and ask Mrs. Morrow."
Then feeling that things were growing desperate and that she might
reveal what she had striven so hard to keep a secret, she broke from her
tormentors and hurried into the hall.
Seeing Helen at that moment she dashed up to her, and grabbing her by
the arm cried, "Helen, the girls are tormenting me to tell them about
the lawn party; oh, do keep them from asking me again, for I am in
mortal terror that I may tell something that should not be told just
yet."
"All right," soothed her friend, "don't you bother about the girls
finding out, I'll see to them. But here's Fred, he wants you to vote. By
the way, have you heard that the Sport's Stunt has so far the greatest
number of votes, and--"
But Helen had been carried off by one of the Scouts, and Nathalie turned
to find Fred at her side eagerly demanding her vote.
"Why don't you vote for 'The First American Wash-Day'?" demanded the
young man as he saw Nathalie hesitate and swing her pencil, lost in
abstraction. "It will win, I think, and it was a good Stunt, too; well
acted out. Edith deserves credit."
"Do you think so?" flashed Nathalie. She colored angrily. "I do not
agree with you. I think--" She stopped, compressed her lips, and then
added coolly, "I shall vote for Helen, for I consider her Stunt the best
one of the evening." She wrote the name of the Stunt hurriedly, signed
her name, and then handed the card to Fred, who was regarding her with a
puzzled expression on his face.
He took the card and turned to go, but seeing that the floor had been
cleared for dancing he stopped, and swinging about asked Nathalie if he
could have the next dance. Nathalie assented, although she did not feel
in the mood for dancing just at that moment.
"You won't mind waiting a moment, will you?" asked Fred. "I have got to
turn in my cards. Then I see this is a square dance, and I want a waltz
with you. Are you angry with me?" he asked wonderingly as he saw that
Nathalie's eyes still gleamed fire and that her cheeks were bright red.
The girl looked up at him absently and then, suddenly comprehending that
she was acting rather rudely towards this new friend, cried laughing,
"Angry with you? Indeed, no! I _am angry_ with--some one," she added
bitterly, her glance suddenly falling on Edith. "But there, return your
cards and then we will dance."
Five minutes later as Fred swung his partner lightly up and down the
hall to waltz time, Nathalie forgot all the unpleasant jars of the
evening in the enjoyment of the moment. But later, as they hurried out
on the veranda for a breath of fresh air, she remembered how rudely she
had acted and felt as if she ought to make some kind of an explanation
to Fred for her seeming rudeness. Then it suddenly came to her that
perhaps he might think she was jealous of Edith. Oh, no, she was not
jealous--she was willing Edith should win the highest number of votes,
only it did seem a bit hard to have to give all the glory up to some one
else, when it rightfully belonged to her, and then Edith _had been_ mean
about it.
"Please don't think I didn't want Edith to win," she burst forth as they
seated themselves in a cozy corner where she could see the dancers in
the hall. "Only--you see it is this way, I--"
But before she could finish, the Tike came rushing up all of a whirl
crying, "Oh, Nathalie, your Stunt won! I'm awfully glad!" And she danced
up and down in her delight at Nathalie's success.
"Oh, 'The First American Wash-Day' was Edith's Stunt," Nathalie hastened
to explain, resolved that she would be a martyr to her wounded pride
with a good grace.
"That didn't win the highest vote, but your Stunt did," retorted Carol
jubilantly; "the one with the old Dutchwoman putting the kiddies to bed.
And that Dutch lullaby--oh, Nathalie, where did you learn it?"
Before Nathalie could answer Carol had skipped away, leaving the girl
with a strange expression on her face as she stared at Fred with
mystified eyes. "Do you suppose I really won it?" she demanded after a
pause. "I thought you said Edith's Stunt was the winner."
"So I heard," was Fred's reply. "But then, Miss Nathalie, I am awfully
glad your Stunt won. It was a peach, I thought myself, but I heard--"
"Oh, I don't care about that," cried Nathalie. There was a quiver to her
voice. "I don't deserve it; oh, I have been awfully mean, and yet I have
been calling Edith mean--" She stopped abruptly. How queerly it had
turned out!
Catching a rather strange look in her companion's eyes she exclaimed,
"Oh, indeed I was willing that Edith should win--I don't care a snap
about it myself--only, you see it was this way." She floundered for a
moment and then with a sudden catch in her breath leaned towards Fred
crying, "If I tell you something, will you swear never to reveal it?"
Fred's face brightened; he was delighted to think Nathalie considered
him worthy of her confidence, and lost no time in assuring her of this
fact. But the girl was thinking of only one thing, and that was that she
was going to break her silence in regard to Edith and unburden herself
of what had been causing her a good deal of discomfort all the evening.
Nathalie talked rapidly and in a few minutes Fred was in possession of
the facts about "The First American Wash-Day," and how it had come about
that although the idea was Nathalie's, Edith had won the glory of it
without the work.
"Say, but you're game!" declared Fred admiringly, as Nathalie finished
her story. "It was a fine thing for you not to tell; I don't blame you
for feeling mean about it. But the Sport had no right to use it--"
"Well, never mind now," cried Nathalie, "it is all over with and I am
glad I didn't tell any one but you, and you won't break your word, will
you? The word of a Scout, you know," added the girl archly.
Fred laughingly assured her that his word as a gentleman was sufficient
and as binding as that of a Scout. Then as they discussed the Scout
oath, its pledges, and so forth, Dr. Homer appeared and asked his little
hike-mate if he might have the pleasure of a dance with her.
Nathalie smilingly assured him she would be most happy and then with a
good-by to Fred, the quaint little figure in its queer Dutch cap and
flowered gown followed the doctor into the hall.
* * * * *
The long anticipated fourteenth of June had arrived, and the level
stretch of green grass with its circling hillocks in the rear of the
gray house was ablaze with color. Beneath a high arch festooned with the
red, white, and blue--the Pioneers' color again--stood a number of merry
girls, each one gowned in white with a scarlet sash, and a red liberty
cap, and holding in her hand a flag or small banner.
Every eye as well as tongue was on duty, as each girl triumphantly
displayed her flag to her comrades, proudly claiming that it was an
exact copy of one of the liberty banners used by the colonies preceding
or during the Revolution.
"Hurrah for the Concord flag," cried Kitty Corwin, as she hoisted up a
small maroon banner inscribed with the motto, "Conquer or Die." "This is
one of the oldest flags in America, for it was the one carried when the
'embattled farmers fired the shot heard round the world'"--she twirled it
high in air--"on the 19th of April, 1775, at the first battle of the
Revolution!"
"Oh, but your flag hasn't the romance that mine has," said Edith,
ostentatiously waving a crimson flag fringed at the ends, and with a
cord and tassel. "This is the Eutaw flag and was made by Miss Jane
Elliot. Col. William Washington--he was a relative or something of little
Georgie--when stationed at Charleston, South Carolina, fell in love with
Miss Jane. One night, after spending the evening with his lady love, as
he bade her good night, she said she hoped to hear good news of his flag
and fortune. Whereupon the poor colonel was forced to confess that his
corps had no flag. Upon hearing this the young lady pulled down one of
the portieres, cut it to the right size, fringed it at the ends, stuck
it on a curtain pole, and then presented it to her gallant lover,
telling him to make it his standard. Of course after that it brought
good luck and won a great victory at Cowpens, January, 1781, and another
at Eutaw Springs the following September. Forty years later the flag was
presented by the hands that made it to the Washington Light Infantry of
Charleston, for the fair Jane married the colonel, all right."
"Well, don't you girls boast too much," declared Jessie, "for if it
hadn't been for my flag there wouldn't have been any banners of liberty
to make you patriotic." And Jessie held up a white flag barred with the
scarlet cross of St. George, the flag dear to Merrie Old England as the
flag of the people, and beloved by the colonists as the ensign that
floated from the little ship _Mayflower_.
As if to supplement Jessie's declaration, an Oriole gayly flaunted the
Red Ensign of Great Britain with its canton quartered by the cross of
St. George and St. Andrew. "This is the flag that followed Jessie's and
was necessarily adopted by the colonists as the flag of the mother
country. It was called the Union flag--the two crosses signifying the
union of Scotland and England, when King James of Scotland became
king--and remained in use in America until the beginning of the
Revolution."
Grace, who had been impatiently waiting to float her flag, now cried,
"Away with your old Johnnie Bull flags! Mine is worth a hundred of those
old English rags, for it was the first distinctively American flag used
by the Colonies, 'The Pine Tree Flag of New England.'"
"But it has the red cross on the white canton just the same," ventured
Jessie, "and it is red, too."
"Of course it has the cross on it," quickly retorted Grace, "for at that
time the Colonies still belonged to England; but if you look, my lady,
you'll see that pine in the first quarter of the canton, and that is
American all through, every pine on it. It meant that the colonists,
although they were English, had a right to representation in the mother
country and to a symbol of their own."
"Well," persisted Jessie, in whose veins flowed a goodly supply of
English blood, "your scrubby old pine was such a poor representation of
that noble tree that Charles II asked what it represented--and was told
it was an oak."
"Come, Jessie," laughed Helen, "that story is a back number. Every one
can guess without much effort that the man who told that yarn to the
king was a New Englander. He wanted to gain favor with Charles and
bluffed him a bit, trying to make out it was a model of the royal oak in
which his majesty took refuge after the battle of Worcester."
"Oh, stop discussing the merits of that old pine and look at my banner,"
sang out Louise Gaynor, shaking her flag furiously to and fro so as to
get the attention of the girls. "This flag is the Crescent flag and
stands for the bravest of the brave. Now listen, and you will all
understand what true heroism means."
The girls, impressed by the Flower's declaration, grew silent, and gazed
curiously at a red banner with a white crescent in the upper corner near
the staff. "This flag was designed by Col. Moultrie of the Second
Carolina Infantry in 1775. During the siege of Charleston when the flag
was shot down, Sergeant William Jasper at the peril of his life
recovered it, and held it in place on the parapet until another staff
was found. In 1779, at the assault on Savannah, it was again shot from
its holdings. Two lieutenants sprang forward and held it in position
until they were killed by the enemy's bullets. Jasper again sprang
forward and held the colors up until he, too, was riddled with bullets,
and fell into a ditch. As he was dying he seized the flag in his hands
and cried, 'Tell Mrs. Elliot'--she was the wife of one of the
majors--'that I lost my life supporting the colors she gave our
regiment.'"
Barbara, who was usually so placid and mild, now grew quite intense as
she pointed to her flag, the Cambridge flag, claiming that it was the
first flag on this side of the water to float the red and white bars. It
signified, she said, that although the colonists were willing to return
to the rule of the English, they were a body of armed men fighting for
just and equal rights with their brothers who had crossed the sea to
whip them into submission. "But they didn't," ended Barbara with
triumphant eyes. "And this flag, also known as the Union flag--meaning
that the colonists stood as a man in their desire for the right--was
displayed by Washington in his camp at Cambridge, January 2nd, 1776."
"Now let me have a chance," pleaded Nathalie, who had been impatiently
waiting to show her design for some time. "My flag has a story, too."
She held up as high as she could a white flag with a rattlesnake in the
center. It bore in black letters the name, "The Culpeper Minute Men of
Virginia," the snaky slogan, "Don't Tread On Me," and the famous words
of its commander, Patrick Henry, "Liberty or Death!"
"Do you see that rattlesnake?" continued Miss Nathalie, as she brought
her flag to a standstill and pointed to the snaky emblem. "That has a
story--"
"Pooh," interposed Edith, who was jealously guarding her declaration
that her flag was the most beautiful because it had a story. "I don't
see any story about that snaky old thing. Ugh, I never could understand
why so many flags had that design."
"I will tell you why," declared Nathalie, "because I have looked it up,
and--"
"But you are not the only one who has looked up flags," chimed Jessie,
"for my eyes were just about ruined trying to get a merit badge for
proficiency in flag history--"
"And for deftness and skill in making our flags," broke in a Pioneer
from the Bob White group.
"I beg your pardon, girls, I know you are all very wise on the subject
of flags this morning," rejoined Nathalie good-naturedly, "but do you
know why the rattlesnake was chosen as an ensign?"
She waited a moment, but as no one seemed to know she went on. "The
rattlesnake is to be found only in America; my authority is Benjamin
Franklin. It is the wisest of the snake family, therefore a symbol of
wisdom. Its bright, lidless eyes never close, this signifies vigilance.
It never attacks without giving due notice, which meant that the
American colonies were on the square. Each rattle is perfect, while at
the same time it is so firmly attached to its fellows that it cannot be
separated without incurring the ruin of all; each colony was a complete
unit in itself, and yet it could not stand unless it had the support of
the others. As it ages, the rattles increase in numbers, which meant
that it was the fervent desire of the people that the colonies should
increase in numbers with the years."
As Nathalie finished her little lecture, Helen, with a sudden movement,
shouldered her flag like a musket, and parting the group of girls,
marched jubilantly down the center, crying, "Oh, girls, you have had the
floor long enough to tell of the beauties and glories of your paltry
banners, but let me tell you, not a flag has won the honors and glories
that mine has. Hurrah, girls, for Old Glory!" she ended with a
triumphant wave of the Stars and Stripes above their heads.
As if inspired by the sight of the cheery banner so gallantly flung to
the breezes by their comrade, the girls with one accord broke into the
flag cheer:
"Hear! hear; hear Girl Pioneer!
For flag so dear give a cheer!
For the bars that are white and red,
And stars on blue overhead
We honor thee with a cheer!
Hurrah! Hurrah! Girl Pioneer!"
Before the echo of the cheer had died in the distance Nathalie cried,
"Oh, girls, the first signal!" Immediately these little patriotic
Daughters of that which every one holds dear fell into line, and with
flags upheld fastened their eyes on a small platform that had been
erected in the center of the lawn draped with the national colors, where
the Goddess of Liberty had just appeared. Holding up a green branch in
her hand she began to walk agitatedly up and down the stage, pausing
abruptly every moment or so to peer to the right or left, as if watching
for some one.
Suddenly she halted, and with the dramatic gestures of Lillie Bell--for
it was she--cried in mournful tone, "'Is life so dear, or peace so sweet
as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it,
Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me,
give me liberty, or give me death!'"
As the tragic intonation of her voice ceased, the band--composed, by the
way, of a number of Scouts--burst forth with that old melody, "The
Wearing of the Green." This was another signal, and the girls waiting
under the arch began to march slowly towards the stage, while the
Goddess in feigned mystification moved quickly from side to side with
her hand held to her ear, as if trying to ascertain whence came this
martial tune.
But on came the Daughters of Liberty with flashes of white and red, and
with banners of many designs and devices. They presented such a
brilliant showing that the audience seated in rows on the circling
mounds broke into loud applause, which burst into enthusiastic cheers of
greeting, as in the bright glare of the sunlight they perceived Old
Glory floating far above the heads of the banner bearers as they proudly
marched across the green.
When the Goddess perceived this procession of fair damsels she stood
apparently in a maze for a moment, and then slowly retreated backward
until she stood on the scarlet draped dais with its throne. As the
thirteen maids of freedom filed slowly on the platform, forming a half
circle before the Goddess, the band struck into that old-time air, "The
Liberty Tree," and a second later every Daughter had chimed in and was
singing:
"In a chariot of light from the regions of day
The Goddess of Liberty came;
Ten thousand celestials directed the way,
And hither conducted the dame.
A fair budding branch from the gardens above,
Where millions and millions agree
She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love,
And the plant she named Liberty Tree."