THE LOVELY LADY
The news of a stowaway had reached the upper deck before Joanne arrived
there. She had quite recovered her composure by this time, and, as
usual after one of her excitable outbursts, she was turning her dark
cloud to show the silver lining. It was fortunate, she told herself,
that there were some days before the vessel could reach New York, and
in that time, probably she could coax her grandfather into keeping both
Pablo and Chico. She remembered that Dr. Selden had said that Paulino
Lopez had a swarm of children, so why should he not be pleased to have
one of them provided for? This pleasant thought caused her to flash a
sudden smile at the friendly boy now standing by his mother’s side.
This time the boy did more than smile; he spoke. “Say,” he began, “have
you heard about the stowaway? Is there really one?”
“Oh, yes, there is,” Joanne halted in her walk. “He is ours. I have
just been down to see him.”
The boy turned to his mother. “Well, what do you think of that?” he
said. Then, to Joanne, “Tell us about him, won’t you?”
Joanne moved over to where he stood.
“This is my mother,” he said. “My name is Bob Marriott. What’s yours?”
“Joanne Selden,” was the reply.
“Sit down, won’t you?” The lady indicated a vacant chair by her side.
“My son has been telling me about the little pony you have below.”
“He isn’t exactly mine,” responded Joanne; “he is Grad’s--that’s what
I call my grandfather. I couldn’t say grandfather when I was little,
so I always called him Grad. He is a dear, the pony, I mean, though my
grandfather is, too, for that matter.”
Bob laughed. “I’ve seen him and I think he is fine--the pony, I mean,”
then coloring up, “of course your grandfather is, too.”
Then they all laughed and felt very well acquainted.
“So the fine pony is your fine grandfather’s,” began Bob’s mother.
“However, I suppose that is the same as if he belonged to you, isn’t
it?”
“Well,” answered Joanne rather doubtfully, “perhaps so, if Grad decides
to keep him. You see he came most unexpectedly, as if he’d dropped from
the skies. I’ll tell you about it.” So she launched forth into the
story of Chico which, of course, included that of Pablo, ending up by
saying: “So you see poor Grad is in quite a pickle. He has two things
on his hands that he doesn’t know what to do with, three if you count
me.”
“But why you?” asked Mrs. Marriott interestedly.
“Because you see my father died when I was a baby and my mother when
I was four years old, so I have lived with my grandparents most of my
life. I’m rather delicate and have to go south in the winter or to
California or somewhere like that. This year we went to Bermuda first,
then off to other places in the West Indies and to some queer little
ports. Now that Grad has retired from the navy he can go along, too,
which is rather fortunate for Gradda and me, for we have had to go
wandering off alone. We usually don’t, however, for there are always
some navy people going along at the same time.”
“Don’t you go to school?”
“Yes, at least I’ve had a governess. I had a French nursery governess
first, then an English governess, but now I have none at all. I should
like to go to school. Maybe I shall if we are to live in Washington.
I don’t know; that is one of the makings up of his mind that Grad is
bothered about. There he comes now. I must go and find out what he has
to say about Pablo.”
This was the first of many talks which Joanne had with these two. She
had never known boys very well, and Bob was a revelation to her. He was
a Boy Scout, in the first place, he played the violin in the second and
in the third he had a number of girl cousins of whose doings he told
Joanne, making her sigh enviously as she wished she could do some of
the things they did.
She expressed this wish to Bob one day when the two were leaning on the
rail watching the churning of the water in the wake of the steamer.
“How I’d love to play outdoor games and go camping and do all those
things your cousins do,” she said.
“Well, what’s the matter with your getting out and doing them?”
“How could I?”
“That’s an easy one. Join the Girl Scouts.”
“Oh, tell me about them.”
“They’re Scouts as near like Boy Scouts as girls can be. Our
organization was started in England by Sir Baden Powell, and his
sister started the Girl Scouts, then Mrs. Juliette Low got the idea
and brought it over to the United States. The movement has spread so
that now there are hundreds and hundreds of Girl Scouts all over the
country, and I tell you they are just fine. My mother was captain of a
troop, but she had to give it up.”
“I’m going to ask her to tell me about her troop, do you call it? I
love that. My father was a navy man, you know, and it does appeal to
me, troops and captains and things. My father was only a lieutenant for
he was very young when he died.”
“Of course mother will tell you about her troop. She’d love to, for if
there is anything mum’s daffy about it is the Girl Scout idea.”
So Joanne sought out Mrs. Marriott and listened attentively while she
was being informed of the Girl Scout activities. “I think it must be
the finest thing to be one,” she commented at last.
“It certainly is fine and dandy to be a Boy Scout,” Bob put in, “so it
must be just as fine for a girl.”
Joanne was very thoughtful for a moment before she said: “I’m afraid my
grandparents wouldn’t like the idea.”
“Pooh! Why not?” queried Bob.
“Oh, because they don’t like me to do conspicuous things; they’d object
to my marching in a parade, for instance.”
“Pooh!” exclaimed Bob again. “You’d be just one of a bunch, all dressed
alike and no one would notice you particularly any more than if you
were one potato in a bushel.”
Joanne laughed but immediately looked serious again, then she went on:
“They’d be scared to death for fear I’d overtax my strength. Gradda is
always talking about me overtaxing my strength, and charging me not to
take cold and all that sort of thing.” She turned to Mrs. Marriott. “I
wish you’d get acquainted with Gradda; she’s Mrs. Gregory Selden, you
know. You could get to talking about how interesting and fine it is to
be a Girl Scout and get her used to the idea gradually. It would never
do to spring it on her suddenly; she’d get all ruffled up like a hen
with one chick.”
“I’d like very much to meet your grandmother,” returned Mrs. Marriott.
“Won’t you present me?”
Joanne looked up from under her dark lashes. She wasn’t quite sure
whether her grandmother, being a very particular lady, would like
the idea of meeting a perfectly strange person of whom Joanne could
tell her nothing except that she had made the acquaintance in a very
unconventional way. However, she reflected, that she did very often
pick up acquaintances in travelling, and her grandmother had followed
them up or dropped them as she felt disposed. So she replied politely:
“If Gradda admires you as much as I do she’ll be delighted. I picked
you out that first day as the dearest-faced person on board.”
Mrs. Marriott smiled. “Thank you for that very nice compliment,” she
said quietly.
Joanne fidgeted around for a few minutes. “Let’s go now,” she said at
last.
“Go where?” asked Bob.
“Over to Gradda; we may as well get it over.”
Mrs. Marriott laughed, but she gave Joanne’s hand a squeeze. “You are
simply delicious,” she exclaimed.
Joanne wondered why, but jumped up, settled her cap upon her curly head
and led the way to the other side of the deck where her grandmother
sat. Dr. Selden was pacing up and down in company of another man.
Joanne paused in front of Mrs. Selden saying: “Gradda, dear, I want you
to know my friend, Mrs. Marriott, and this is Bob, her son.”
Mrs. Selden removed her eye-glasses and looked up with faint suspicion
at the tall, handsome woman before her. “Oh, Mrs. Marriott,” she said,
“I have heard Joanne speak of you. Won’t you sit down? Joanne, take
that rug of your grandfather’s out of the way, and--Robert, is it? I’m
afraid there is not another vacant chair for you.”
“Oh, never mind, Mrs. Selden,” returned Bob, quickly lifting the rug
from the steamer chair and tucking it around his mother when she sat
down. “Joanne and I will just walk while you and mother talk, that is,
if you don’t object.”
“Not in the least,” replied Mrs. Selden graciously, pleased with the
boy’s courteous manner.
“I’m glad you said that,” remarked Joanne as she and Bob turned away.
“Now Gradda will talk about me, which she wouldn’t do before my face.”
That is precisely what did happen, for Mrs. Marriott tactfully led the
way to the subject. “I was attracted to your little granddaughter when
I first saw her,” she began. “She has such a bright interesting face,
rather intense at times.”
“Yes, she is too intense, I’m afraid,” responded Mrs. Selden. “She is
not strong but is nervously active, and I find it difficult to curb her
nervous energies which outweigh her physical powers.”
“Then,” returned Mrs. Marriott, “it would seem a good thing to build up
her physical strength.”
“That is what my husband advises. He advocates an outdoor life, but how
is the child to be properly educated if we were to live in the country?
I could not endure the isolation and where would she find proper
companionship, a matter so important now that she is growing beyond
childhood? She has had governesses, but now that the doctor has retired
we have about decided to live in Washington and send her to school.”
“There are excellent schools in Washington,” remarked Mrs. Marriott.
“So we hear. Do you recommend any special ones?”
Mrs. Marriott rapidly turned over in her mind the schools of which she
knew, then mentioned one which encouraged its pupils to belong to a
troop of Girl Scouts whose meeting place for rallies was the school’s
gymnasium, and presently the subject of this organization was brought
up. While this was being discussed Dr. Selden joined them, and soon the
three were animatedly talking over schools and schoolgirls in general
and Joanne in particular.
This was the beginning of more than one conversation upon the same
subject, so that by the time the steamer docked it was almost settled
that Joanne should try the Everleigh school, though the matter of her
joining the Girl Scouts was left open.
Meanwhile the story of the pony and Pablo had become generally known
and every one was interested in the pair, all hoping they would not be
separated.
The little pony had begun life with wild mountain companions, many
of whom, from time to time, were captured and brought into the
market-place to be sold. Chico and his mother were among these, but
the wild, little mother refusing captivity, managed to get away, but
in her mad efforts to escape, stumbled into a hole, broke her leg and
was shot. Chico, who had tried to keep up with her, gave out at last,
after making a good flight. Paulino Lopez bought the little creature
for a mere song, took him to his home, where he became a great pet and
Pablo’s chief companion. In time he became as gentle as a kitten and
docile enough to offer no objection to having a saddle put upon him or
to be harnessed to a rough cart. He was strong and sturdy, much like a
Shetland pony, and even Mrs. Selden, after having been persuaded to go
down to see him, observed that he had “a very engaging personality.”
At this comment Dr. Selden gave Joanne a sly wink which encouraged her
to believe that Chico would remain in the family.
As for Pablo’s future, that was still an open question which was not
answered till some weeks later.
At the dock Joanne parted from Bob and his mother. She and Bob had
become good comrades while for Mrs. Marriott she had acquired the
worshipful feeling which a girl of fourteen often feels for an older
woman, and “my lovely lady,” was the way Joanne always spoke of her.
At parting she threw herself into Mrs. Marriott’s arms sobbing out: “I
must part from you! We must part and I may never see you again!” She
tremblingly took from her finger a little forget-me-not ring which she
thrust into Mrs. Marriott’s hand saying: “Please keep this to remember
me by.” Then, after watching mother and son go off in a cab, she turned
her attention to the landing of Chico.
The little pony came ashore much more readily than he had gone aboard,
perhaps sensing the fact that his voyage was over and that he would
now have the freedom of dry land. Moreover, this time he was led by
his comrade, Pablo, who was clothed in a decent suit of Bob’s clothes,
donated by Mrs. Marriott.
“Where will he go now?” inquired Joanne linking her arm in her
grandfather’s.
“That’s what I must find out,” he said. “Such a nuisance having a
responsibility like this thrust upon us.”
“Oh, Grad, Grad,” cried Joanne, “there’s Cousin Ned.” She had suddenly
caught sight of a well set up young man behind the barriers.
“Good!” responded her grandfather. “Just the one I’d most wish to see.”
He hurried up to the gate calling heartily: “Good boy, Ned! Just the
very one I want. Can you wait till we’re through with these customs?”
“Sure can, uncle,” returned the young man.
Joanne waved her cousin a greeting and then rushed off to where her
grandmother sat forlornly, if patiently, on a trunk. “Gradda! Gradda,”
cried Joanne, “Cousin Ned Pattison is here. He came down to meet
us. Isn’t that fine?” Her excitement and pleasure at the new arrival
completely chased away the tears which had attended her parting with
the Marriotts.
In due course of time the customs were done with and Cousin Ned was
permitted to join his relatives. “Well, Ned, my boy,” said his uncle,
“it’s mighty good of you to give us this surprise.”
“Thought I’d combine business with pleasure and run on to New York for
a few days. Had some matters to look up and made it convenient to time
it so as to be here when you all got in. Going right on to Washington,
uncle, or do you linger in this mad city for a while?” He smiled down
at Joanne.
“Well,” returned Dr. Selden, “the trouble is that I’m tied up in the
matter of a boy and a pony.”
His nephew stared. “What?”
“Fact. I’ve got to find a place for them. Queer sort of dunnage, but
they were forced upon me,” and Dr. Selden proceeded to tell the story
of Chico and Pablo to which Mr. Pattison listened with close attention.
“Why don’t you ship them right on to my place?” he said at the
conclusion of the tale.
Dr. Selden laughed. “Where would you put a pony in an apartment house?
In the dumb-waiter?”
It was his nephew’s turn to laugh. “Pshaw! I forgot that you didn’t
know that I was a landed proprietor, that I had acquired a farm.”
“Really?”
“Sure thing. I have a dandy place about twenty miles above Washington
on the Potomac. I can take care of your pony, Jo.” He smiled down at
the little girl.
“But,” said Joanne plaintively, “he isn’t mine; he’s Grad’s.”
“Same thing,” returned Cousin Ned with assurance. “I would be glad,
too, to take the boy,” he said to his uncle. “Help is none too easy to
find these days and an extra pair of hands would be mighty welcome. How
old is this chap?”
“Twelve or fourteen, I should say. He is rather small, so it’s hard to
tell.”
“Good enough; he’s old enough to do a lot. Just you leave it all to me.
Did you say you were going to stay over or not?”
“I suppose I shall have to till we get this matter straightened out,
though I’d like to get off to-morrow if possible.”
“I reckon we can fix it up. I must be here for a couple of days, and
can look after your live stock till I go, then I can take them right
along with me. Meanwhile I know a man that will look after them. Where
are they, by the way?”
“Over here,” responded Dr. Selden. “No, Joanne, you must stay with your
grandmother.”
So Joanne watched the two men go off, and then sat down by her
grandmother to wait their return. After what seemed, and really was, a
long time she saw them coming back talking earnestly.
“There’s bound to be a lot of red tape,” she heard her grandfather say,
“but I’ll get in touch with the consul--I know him personally--and no
doubt he will be able to hurry it up.”
“All right. I’ll meet you at the hotel,” replied Cousin Ned, and
hurried off.
In a few minutes Joanne and her grandparents were seated in a taxicab
and a little later found themselves in a hotel from which they departed
on the second day following.
Then came days which were exciting enough for Joanne; the selecting of
a new home, the prospect of school life, the anticipation of spending
week ends and holidays on Cousin Ned’s farm, all these were too much
for Joanne who, at the end of a week, went to bed with a headache and
was treated as an invalid for several days longer.
But she emerged from this durance vile the better for the rest, and one
Monday morning entered school with high hopes if with palpitating heart
and nervous tremors. However, at the end of another week she had found
congenial companions, had chosen one special friend, had made up her
mind that she must become a Girl Scout whether or no, and was already
working at her Tenderfoot tests.