HARD AT IT
The girl whom Joanne settled upon as the one she would like for her
best friend was Winnie Merryman. Joanne observed her across the big
schoolroom that first morning. She was the exact opposite of the
dark-haired, dark-eyed, pale-faced Joanne, being rosy and fair-haired,
with big turquoise blue eyes and lips which smiled a friendly greeting
to Joanne as, a little scared, the latter took the seat assigned her
and glanced around the room.
At recess Joanne, too proud, and still too scared, to make advances,
stood off with head up and a don’t care look on her face. Winnie at
once made her way over to the new pupil. “I don’t believe you know any
of the girls, do you?” she said.
Joanne shook her head. “No, I don’t know a single one.”
“Then come and eat lunch with me. I am Winifred Merryman. I can tell
you about the other girls and you can meet some of them so you won’t
feel that you are among entire strangers.”
This was the beginning and by Friday afternoon Joanne and Winifred were
sworn friends, moreover Joanne knew most of the other girls, by name at
least, and was in high favor with a number of them, being considered
something of a heroine because of her travels and her somewhat unusual
experiences.
“Just think,” said Betty Streeter to Esther Rhodes, “she speaks
languages, French and Spanish, and she’s been to all sorts of queer
places like Hawaii and the West Indies.”
“Yes, but she’s awfully backward in some of her studies; math. and
Latin, for example.”
“Yes, but she’s very bright; I heard Miss Hunter say so; she’ll catch
up.”
“She looks very delicate.”
“I believe she is, but I heard her say to Miriam Overton that she had
always been coddled, carried around in cotton wool, as it were, but
that now she was going to join the Girl Scouts and have more outdoor
life. That should bring her up if anything can.”
“Perhaps,” returned Esther doubtfully.
It was true enough that Joanne had declared that she intended to become
a Girl Scout although as yet, her grandmother’s consent had not been
gained. It took a little diplomacy to get this, but Joanne was tactful,
and first, by coaxings and cajolings, won her grandfather over to her
side, then one day she brought home the rosy Winnie who was certainly a
brilliant example of an outdoor girl.
“Of course,” Winnie told Mrs. Selden, “I don’t suppose my robust
appearance is all due to scouting, but mother thinks ever so much can
be laid to that. I know myself, that I get flabby and lazy and headachy
when I stay indoors too much; so do lots of the girls. Why, look at
Miriam Overton; she used to have indigestion and couldn’t walk a mile
without giving out. Now she’s given up eating so much candy and takes
more exercise so she can do a five mile hike with any of us.”
So in the face of these and other arguments Mrs. Selden finally
gave in, especially when she learned the character of the girls who
comprised Sunflower Troop. However, it was not at once that Joanne was
able to attend her first rally, for, being not only a high-strung,
nervous young person, she was likewise a very ambitious one who went at
her studies with a rush and a determination to be outdone by no one,
so that more than once she was kept at home because of headaches which
followed fits of weeping when she thought herself unable to keep up
with her class, or failed in some of her work. On such occasions her
grandfather bore her off to Cousin Ned’s farm from which she returned
with renewed confidence and quite ready to start in again with fresh
vigor.
So at last it came about that it was a very enthusiastic girl who
perched upon the arm of her grandfather’s chair on the evening of the
day when she attended her first rally.
“Just think, Grad,” she exclaimed, “there are ever so many tests I
don’t have to bother about. You have already taught me how to tie more
than four knots, so I can check those off. The girls were so surprised
that I knew so many, but when I told them I belonged to the navy they
understood.”
“You belong to the navy?” Her grandfather softly pinched her cheek.
“Why, of course. Haven’t you always belonged, and didn’t my father?
Of course I knew the names of governors of states, only the District
of Columbia doesn’t have any, and Washington hasn’t any mayor. As
for the history of the flag and how to fly it, I’d be a poor sort of
granddaughter to a navy man if I didn’t know that much. There are ten
Scout laws, and I think I know them perfectly. Don’t you want to hear
me say them, Grad?”
“Most certainly.”
Joanne jumped down and stood rigidly before her grandfather. “First
comes the promise,” she began; “I must promise to try to do three
things: To do my duty to God and my country. To help other people at
all times. To obey the laws of the Scouts. The laws are these: ‘A Girl
Scout’s honor is to be trusted. A Girl Scout is loyal. A Girl Scout’s
duty is to be useful and to help others. A Girl Scout is a friend to
all and a sister to every other Girl Scout. A Girl Scout is courteous.
A Girl Scout keeps herself pure. A Girl Scout is a friend to animals.
A Girl Scout obeys orders. A Girl Scout is cheerful. A Girl Scout is
thrifty.’”
“Fine! Fine!” cried her grandfather when she had finished. “I hope my
little Puss will be able to keep those laws.”
“It’s going to be pretty hard to keep them all but I shall try very,
very hard, for I am just crazy to become a Golden Eaglet.”
“And what’s that, pray?”
“Well, you see first you’re a Tenderfoot, then you are a Second Class
Scout, then a First Class; just like the middies, you know. Well,
when you have passed the tests for a whole lot of things, fourteen or
something, you can become a Golden Eaglet. You can get badges for other
things, too. I think I can pass the test for Interpreter and I know
something about signalling and I can swim a little, but there are ever
so many more; I will show you the list in my handbook. Oh, Grad, it is
a perfect cinch that I can go to Cousin Ned’s, for that’s where I shall
practise horsemanship and farming.”
Her grandfather threw back his head and laughed heartily. “I see you
becoming a farmerette,” he said.
“Oh, but I can be, really I can. Now don’t you laugh at me, you dear
old blessedness,” she dashed over to give him a hug, “for I’m counting
on you for first aid and instructor in a lot of things.”
“Better not place too much confidence in my powers.”
“Oh, but of course I can, Mr. Doctorman, for where could I find any one
who could tell me more about Red Cross stuff and Civics and all that?”
“Well, well, we’ll see. Do you know this is the very first day that
you have forgotten to ask about Pablo, being so interested in this new
idea, of course.”
“Oh, Grad, tell me, have you heard at last from his people?”
“Well, chatterbox, if you will give me a chance to get a word in
edgewise I might be able to tell you something.”
Joanne promptly drew up a chair and sat down in front of him, folding
her hands in her lap. “I won’t say one word till you say I may. Please
now go ahead and tell me.”
“Very well, then; I have heard from Pablo’s parents and they give their
consent to the boy’s remaining in this country. They really seem glad
of the opportunity which has come to him. The father writes that the
fact that one of his family can be provided for in this great United
States is to be considered in the light of a blessing.”
“And----” began Joanne, then put her finger on her lip and went no
further.
“So your Cousin Ned, finding the boy really quite a willing, capable
little chap, is ready to do the best he can for him, hoping in time
that he will prove an apt and reliable assistant. So, that’s settled.”
Joanne could restrain herself no longer, but flung herself into her
grandfather’s arms. “And Chico! Oh, Grad, you will let me learn to ride
him.”
“Why, yes. I thought we’d decided that,” he said patting her shoulder.
“But Gradda hasn’t said it was settled.”
“Nonsense! Gradda won’t object.”
“Oh, but she does, she does. She’s afraid Chico will run away with me
and break my back or neck or something. She can’t get over the fact
that he was born wild.”
Her grandfather laughed. “Then we shall have to calm her fears, and let
her be convinced that whatever he may have been in his infancy he is
now a very gentle little beast.”
“Oh, you blessed darling! I’m so glad you’ve retired and are going to
stay at home always, for now I shall have you to come to my rescue in
any emergency.” She threw her arms around her grandfather’s neck and
kissed him ardently.
“Here, here,” he cried, “don’t eat me up. Do you mean you expect me to
come to your rescue if Chico runs away with you?”
“Oh, no, no,” Joanne shook her curly head. “I never expect Chico to run
away with me; I mean when it comes to tiffs with Gradda. She is a dear,
of course, but she is always so anxious about me that she makes my life
miserable. She wants me to take nice, orderly little walks around the
block and never to cross the street alone for fear I’ll be run over.
She is afraid I’ll get rough and suffragettish if I do the stunts the
other girls do, and she’s always feeling my hands to see if they are
cold and asking if I am in a draught and where is my appetite and did
I sleep well last night and am I warm enough, hadn’t I better put on a
sweater and do I think I should study so hard and---- Oh dear!” Joanne
gave a long sigh.
Her grandfather shook his head thoughtfully. “I understand, Pickings.
She is too apprehensive; it’s her way, but maybe we can get her used
to a different point of view; it will have to be done gradually, of
course. Meantime this old fellow will keep an eye on you and if he
finds you are overstepping bounds he will pull you up short. It is
to be understood that both you and your grandmother must obey this
doctor’s orders.”
So was Joanne launched, her grandfather her aid and abettor in many of
the activities heretofore denied her. She passed her Tenderfoot tests
successfully and started out enthusiastically to acquire the knowledge
necessary to become a Second Class Scout, which rank she intended to
lose no time in gaining.
“You’re a perfect sponge,” declared Winnie Merryman, herself a First
Class Scout. “I never saw any one soak up information as you do. Here
you are forging ahead in every direction like a steam engine.”
Joanne laughed. “Steam engines don’t usually go in every direction;
those old army tanks do that. Besides, you see, I knew some of the
things already. There are the points of the compass; of course I know
those and how to box it, then I know a lot about steamers and tides and
things, and what to do in case of fire. Grad taught me those ages ago.
Can you ride horseback, Win?”
“A little; at least I can stick on.”
“Then you can ride Chico. Did I tell you that Grad has promised to give
him to me for my very own as soon as I have learned to ride? He is such
a darling, a little rough mountain pony. The cut of his jib is more
like that of a horse than a pony such as you usually see.”
Winnie laughed. “You use so many funny expressions, sailor-like ones.”
“That’s because I belong to the navy,” returned Joanne proudly, at
which speech Winnie laughed again.
Joanne chose to ignore the laugh and went on: “If we fall off we won’t
fall very far, but I don’t intend to fall off; I mean to stick no
matter what. We’ll go out to Cousin Ned’s some day and you can see
Chico and Pablo, too. You can go, can’t you?”
“Oh, Jo, I’d just adore to go, but”--she hesitated, “shouldn’t I wait
for an invitation from your cousin?”
“Of course not,” returned Joanne positively. “Any of my friends will
be entirely welcome. Cousin Ned has no children and he dotes on me, so
if I invite you it is the same as if he did. It is such a dear place.
You wouldn’t believe anything so wild could be within twenty miles of
Washington; great cliffs and forests and rushing rapids in the river.”
“It sounds perfectly entrancing,” declared Winnie.
“There is a farmhouse where the manager lives,” Joanne went on, “but
that isn’t where we would stay. Cousin Ned has built the cunningest
fishing lodge, sort of like a bungalow; he and some of his friends
did most of it themselves, and you never knew anything so clever. It
is built of hewn logs with a huge fireplace made of the stones on
the place. They just rolled them down from the top of the hill. The
chimneys are made of discarded ice cans, the kind they use in factories
where they manufacture ice; they sort of telescoped them together for
only a makeshift, and found they served so well they have left them
just so. The water comes from a never-failing spring half-way up the
hill, such clear, sparkling water; it is piped down into the house
which is at the foot of the hill on the border of the canal with the
river beyond. Cousin Ned has a canoe and a motor-boat. Sometimes we go
part way in his car and the rest of the way in the motor-boat; I like
that way best.”
“Do you go up often?” asked Winnie, much interested.
“Well, I’ve been up only twice,” said Joanne truthfully, “and once we
went in the motor-boat part of the way.”
Winnie laughed for Joanne had spoken as if her visits were of great
frequency. “Could our troop hike up there?” she asked.
“It would be a pretty long hike,” replied Joanne doubtfully, “but we
might take a train to the nearest railway station and walk from there.
It would be about nine or ten miles and up a lot of hills.”
Winifred considered this, then presently she broke out with: “I have an
idea! I tell you what I think would be perfectly great: we could go up
on a canal boat and it would be such fun to go through the locks.”
“Wouldn’t it?” returned Joanne enthusiastically. “I have always been
crazy to go through those locks. Cousin Ned took me over to the one
nearest his place and showed me how they worked. It would take a pretty
long time to get up there, I suppose, but we wouldn’t mind that. I’ll
find out from Cousin Ned if it would be possible, and let you know. I
don’t suppose it would be best to say anything to the other girls till
we know whether or not it can be done.”
“No, I suppose not,” agreed Winnie, “but I hope you can find out soon
so we won’t have to burden our minds with a secret any longer than
necessary.”
“I’ll find out the very first chance I get,” promised Joanne earnestly,
and remembering that Joanne was not one to let the grass grow under her
feet, Winnie was satisfied that she would push the matter.
An opportunity to question Mr. Pattison and also to make her first
attempt to ride Chico was vouchsafed Joanne no later than the next
Friday when Cousin Ned appeared to bear her off with her grandfather
for a week end in the country.
“Wild flowers are out, fish biting,” announced Cousin Ned. “Now’s your
chance. If you want to take advantage of this fine weather while it
lasts, you’d better come up. Aunt Alice, you’ll come, won’t you please?”
Mrs. Selden raised a hand in protest. “Oh, Ned, dear, it is very kind
of you to want me, but I am not fond of roughing it, and from what I
hear I am afraid I shouldn’t enjoy it. Then, too, one is so liable to
take cold this time of year in making sudden changes.”
Mr. Pattison nodded understandingly. He had scarcely expected his
invitation to be accepted. “You’ll come, won’t you?” he turned to his
uncle, “and Jo, of course.”
“Do you think it would be wise to take Joanne?” inquired Mrs. Selden.
“Of course it is just as you say, Gregory, but if she should take
cold----”
“She won’t,” Dr. Selden interrupted. “Let her take plenty of warm
things and her rubbers. I’ll carry along a medicine case, if you say
so, and I’ll be there to doctor her if she sneezes.”
Joanne looked at Cousin Ned and hid a little chuckle as he drew down
his mouth and gave a sly wink.
So, after receiving many charges not to get her feet wet, not to sit up
late, not to get tired, not to eat anything which might disagree with
her, Joanne set off with her grandfather and cousin to spin through
the wide streets, across a bridge to old Georgetown and then up the
river road where lovely vistas of the blue Potomac and the Virginia
hills beyond met her eyes when she looked that way. It was a good road
most of the distance until they turned off into a private way. At the
gate leading to this Joanne spied two figures.
“Look, look!” she cried, “there are Pablo and old Unc’ Aaron. They are
watching for us.”
Sure enough, as soon as he saw them coming, Pablo sprang to open the
gate, smiling and showing his white teeth as they passed through, while
old Aaron took off his nondescript hat and bowed to the ground. “Howdy,
Pablo! Howdy, Unc’ Aaron,” cried Joanne standing up and waving to the
two.
But the pair were soon left behind and the car sped on to draw up
presently outside a little rustic fence beyond which was the bungalow.
Joanne was the first to hop out, stumbling over her grandfather’s feet
in her eagerness to reach the ground. Once there she danced about in
sheer delight, treading the new, up-springing grass beneath her feet,
exclaiming, questioning, and finally hugging her cousin as he came
forward. “Oh, isn’t it the dearest spot?” she cried. “Look at that
shining river! Listen to the rapids! Oh, there is a bird! Where are the
wild violets? Oh, there’s a canal boat. Are we going to eat here or up
at the farmhouse?”
“For an animated visitor commend me to Joanne,” said her cousin, going
up the steps to open the door. “Which would you rather do, Jo, have a
picnic supper here or go to Mrs. Clover’s?”
Joanne considered this for a moment, hesitating between the prospect
of Mrs. Clover’s abundant table heaped with products of the farm, and
the simpler fare the picnic supper suggested. “I tell you what I think
would be best,” she finally decided, “to have our breakfast and supper
here and our dinner at Mrs. Clover’s.”
“Wise old owl,” declared Cousin Ned. “I’ll look over the larder and see
what we can have.”
Joanne followed him to the kitchen where he opened a cupboard and
looked over the contents. “Let me see,” he said; “here’s a lot of
canned stuff and groceries. I tell you what, Jo, I think we’d better
have ham and eggs with some griddle cakes. Unc’ Aaron is a jim dandy at
baking griddle cakes.”
“But that isn’t picnicking,” said Joanne.
“No more is it, but it is the kind of picnicking we generally have up
here, for I’ll have you to know that nobody is a better cook than old
Aaron. How does the bill of fare strike you?”
“I think it is great,” replied Joanne, “and I am so hungry I could eat
it raw.”
“Good! I’ll tell Aaron to give us a double supply. Here he comes now
and Pablo with him. That boy is Unc’ Aaron’s shadow. They have taken
the greatest shine to each other, and Pablo is beginning to talk the
darkiest English you ever heard.”
Unc’ Aaron came in bowing and scraping. “I jes’ thought I’d ruminate
around and require of yuh what was yo desires, Mistah Ned,” he began.
“My desires are for some ham and eggs, some cream and milk and butter.
We’d better send Pablo up to the house for them while you whirl in and
make the fire here. We’re nearly starved and we are counting on you to
get supper for us, some of those famous griddle cakes of yours, and see
that you are not stingy with them.”
“Yass suh, yass suh, I gits yuh-alls up a fine suppah, an’ does it
puromptily, yass suh, I speeds aroun’ an’ represents dat suppah in de
shake or two of a sheep’s tail.”
“All right. Go on with your representing while I light a fire in the
dining-room.”
“Oh, can’t I go with Pablo to get the eggs and things?” begged Joanne,
“and, oh, I do so want just to glimpse Chico.”
“Go along, then, and ask Mrs. Clover if she hasn’t some jam or some
sort of sweet thing she can let us have. She’ll talk you to death if
you let her, so if you want to see Chico you’ll have to head her off
and hurry back.”
Pablo, who had already received his instructions from Unc’ Aaron, was
starting off to the farmhouse. Joanne hurried after him. “I’m going
too, Pablo,” she called.
Pablo waited and they went up the hill together. “Do you like it
here?” inquired Joanne, who had no idea of keeping silence.
“I like ver’ mooch,” replied the boy.
“Tell me about Chico. He is well?”
“He is bust weeth the health,” returned Pablo gravely.
Joanne turned her face toward the river in order to hide the broad
smile which this speech produced. Then she said, still striving to hide
the smile, “You are learning English very quickly, aren’t you?”
“I think,” returned Pablo complacently.
They hurried through their errand as rapidly as the voluble Mrs. Clover
would allow, and went back bearing, not only the butter, eggs, milk and
cream, but a loaf of fresh sponge cake, a comb of honey and a jar of
preserved cherries. They deposited these things on the kitchen table
where Unc’ Aaron was slicing the ham, already on hand, and then they
went off to the stable to see Chico eating his supper and looking as
sleek as needs be.
They were not allowed a very long visit to him, however, for very soon
they heard a bugle call, and looking back saw Cousin Ned standing on
the porch sounding the summons to supper, and down the hill they went
at as rapid a gait as stones and brambles would permit.
“These are the finest griddle cakes I ever ate,” declared Dr. Selden as
he helped himself to his third supply.
“I mean to ask Unc’ Aaron to teach me to make them,” said Joanne. “It
will be a fine thing for me to do when I go out camping with my Girl
Scout troop.”
“And I suppose your poor old grandfather will never have a chance to
test your powers,” remarked Dr. Selden in pretended dejection.
“Oh yes, I will try them on you first,” returned Joanne airily, which
brought a laugh from her grandfather.
She lost no time in interviewing Unc’ Aaron in order to get his recipe,
but she gave up getting a written form, for all he could tell her was
that he “jes’ beat up some aigs, den I sloshes in some buttermilk ef I
has it, er some milk ef I hasn’t, an’ stirs in de flour.”
“But how much?” questioned Joanne, bewildered at this very casual way
of making cakes.
“Well, honey, dat ’pends upon how many dey is to cook fo’,” was the
answer, and this was all the satisfaction she could get, so for the
present she gave up the idea of emulating Unc’ Aaron in the preparation
of griddle cakes.