A SECRET SESSION
"Girls!" Mary addressed all three, just before dinner on the evening of
the day she had called at Crow's Nest, "we must have a real
conference--the kind you have told me about in your scout talks. How
shall we begin, and where can we go to make sure no one will overhear us?"
"In our play-room over the garage," suggested Cleo, "that's really our
club room, you know."
"Yes, that is the safest place," Grace agreed, while Madaline wagged
"yes" with her bobbed head. "Besides, we can leave Shep outside, and he
will warn us if anyone should come around," finished Grace.
But in spite of their serious business, they were really human little
girls after all, for even the prospect of Mary's secrets did not
forestall a vigorous romp to the garage. Madaline fell in first on
Michael's sponges, tools and accessories, for the Dunbar car, which had
been laid up for repairs during the absence of the owner, Mr. Guy Dunbar,
was now being overhauled--a sign the owner was expected soon to return.
"Oh, Michael!" Madaline apologized, gathering up her feet in their pretty
pomps, and shaking herself free from the accessories, "I couldn't help
tumbling in, and I hope I didn't scatter your nuts and bolts and things!"
"All right, little girls," Michael greeted them. "The room up-stairs is
all aired, and Jennie was down to-day with some fixin's. Why don't you
ask her and me to join your club?" he joked inquiringly.
"Yes, of course we should," assented Cleo, who was regarded as Captain.
"That will be lovely; you could be our--our----"
"Grand Marshal!" suggested Michael.
"Yes," and Grace clapped her hands joyfully.
"And Jennie could be our--our----" But Madaline, who attempted to assign
Jennie, was failing miserably in the attempt.
"Don't give Jennie too high an office," interposed Michael with a twinkle
in his eye. "I wouldn't exactly care to have her for my boss."
"Come along to the meeting, girls!" called Cleo, "and we will vote on the
new members. Michael, if you are black-balled you may blame Madaline,
you know," and as a protest against such a contingency, Michael pegged
his biggest sponge at Madaline, who ducked just in time to give the wet
flap to Grace. The jolly interlude somewhat delayed the business session
originally set out for, but it evidently acted as a stimulant to the
proceedings when they finally got under way, for a livelier session could
scarcely be imagined.
Cleo explained some of the routine of regular meetings to the new member,
inscribed on the scout book simply as "Maid Mary," then all further
formalities were wavered and business plunged into.
"I am so anxious to tell you at least some of our story, girls," began
Mary, "and I know, as Grandie gets stronger, he will be able to remember
some of the important missing details. You know, of course, he is not my
grandfather, but a gentleman who rescued me," she said.
"Rescued you from what?" asked Madaline, impulsively.
"That's all in the story," replied Mary, "and honestly, girls, I don't
know how to begin, but I think I ought to go backwards."
"Yes, do," urged Cleo. "It will be clearer to us if we can connect with
the parts we have actually experienced."
"You wonder, of course," Mary began again, "what actually happened that
first night I came here. Really someone did call me," Mary insisted with
wide eyes. "I can hear the voice yet. I know it was someone who knew
me, therefore it must have been Reda."
"We all thought someone was around," Cleo ventured, "and did you know
Shep was shot in the leg that night?"
"No, really," exclaimed Mary in astonishment. "I am sure Reda did not do
that. She is dreadfully afraid of a revolver. Once when Grandie had
one, as he thought someone was prowling about, he left it under his
pillow, and Reda wouldn't touch it, and you would never imagine what a
silly thing she did. She scooped it up on a dust-pan and dumped it in
the bureau drawer. Can you imagine anyone doing that with a loaded
revolver?"
"Oh, how absurd!" exclaimed Grace.
"It was lucky it was not self-cocked," declared Cleo.
"Well, I know Reda wouldn't touch a revolver, so no one I knew could have
injured lovely Shep," said Mary, somewhat dismayed.
"But you remember, Mary, the man you called Janos was out from New York
that day," suggested Madaline.
"Yes, I know," said Mary, "but I hope it was in no way my fault poor Shep
was injured."
"Of course it was not," Cleo said quickly, seeing a possible unpleasant
trend in their review. "It must have been someone who was just prowling
around. You know, girls, all Jennie's lettuce was pulled up by the roots
the night before Shep was shot."
At the mention of lettuce Mary flushed. Then recovering her composure,
she remarked:
"Reda would pull up garden things. She couldn't seem to understand that
growing things were private property. You see, in her country every sort
of stuff grows so luxuriously Reda never could understand why it is
different here. She was always searching for greens to cook for Grandie,
and I was often afraid she would give him something poisonous," Mary
said. "Poor Reda," she sighed. "I wonder where she is?"
"But, Mary," urged Cleo, "do you know actually that you climbed out the
window in your nightie, and sat on a limb of the tree exactly like Peter
Pan in Kensington Gardens? I shall never forget how cute you looked,
even in lantern lights, as you hugged the button ball tree!" and at the
joyous memory all the girls fairly rolled in glee. Grace slid off the
improvised couch; Madaline doubled up on the steamer rug which was
serving as an Oriental on the floor, and Cleo put her perky little head
through such a course of exercises as would have done credit to a beauty
specialist in neck treatment. It was so very funny a thing to remember.
Mary perched in a tree à la Peter Pan, in her white night robe, Cleo
climbing out after her in her bluebird pajamas, then the spectators
around the base of the tree in various improvised garbs, not really
passed by the censor. Yes, it was howlingly--shriekingly funny, just now!
"But do let us get along with the mysteries," begged Grace, unwinding
herself. "Mary, you were going backwards and you haven't got past the
first tree."
"Well, I guess I will have to jump to the most interesting part," said
Mary. "You see, girls, my mother's folks didn't want her to marry my
daddy, because he wasn't rich. He was a scientist, and I am sure a
wonderful man, but mother's folks were very wealthy, and when she went
off exploring with daddy her folks sort of deserted her. Then, when she
fell ill, and daddy fell ill, and I was going to be all alone----" She
paused to choke back too determined a sigh, then continued. "When they
feared they were going, one of the other explorers promised to look out
for me. He is Grandie, but his name isn't Benson, but he doesn't know
that I know that. He lost a very precious treasure, and on account of
that he is sort of hiding, although he really never did a single thing
wrong," declared Mary, loyally.
"Did they go out on a regular exploring expedition?" asked Cleo very
seriously, a new thought coming to her active brain.
"Yes, I suppose so. Why?" Mary inquired in turn.
"I was just thinking--but never mind. Don't let me interrupt you, Mary.
Tell us about your daddy."
"Daddy was determined not to let the fever take him, so, sick as he was,
he insisted on going out to sea, but he--didn't come back."
Quick to save Mary from the threatening tears, Grace asked, "What were
they exploring for?"
"Why, for orchids. I thought you knew," replied Mary, rather surprised
at the question.
"No, we didn't know," Cleo said very thoughtfully, "but we guessed those
wonderful orchids must have come from a tropical clime."
"Yes, we brought the bulbs with us, and that's where I still have to say
'secret,' Cleo dear," Mary responded, smiling to assure her friends she
would have told them more of the mystery if she had been free to do so.
"And what is your name, really?" ventured Madaline.
"You may think it very strange, but I am not sure. Daddy used a book
name, out on his exploration trips, and mother's family name was never
mentioned. Grandie had my papers but you see"--and she hesitated quite a
long time, then in a subdued voice she continued--"you see Grandie became
ill, and he forgot. That is one reason why I am so happy his memory is
returning."
"Oh, wouldn't it be lovely if you turned out to be a great lady!"
Madaline rhapsodized, true to form in a girl's love of excitement.
"I wouldn't want to be a great lady!" replied Mary, tossing back her head
disdainfully. "I would rather just be a little girl scout like you!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah! for our new Tenderfoot. Let's put her through an
initiation, girls!" suggested Cleo. "Mary, don't forget where you left
off, and we'll take a recess. Come on. First you must slide down that
pole. Look out for Michael; he has a pail of water he might like to see
you slide into."
Romping and racketing took the place of serious reminiscences for the
time, and if Mary felt inclined to be sorrowful at her revived memories
the True Treds quickly vanquished the gloom foe, until tiring of the very
vigorous exercise, they settled down again for a last word before closing
the meeting.
"Was Reda with you all the time?" Cleo asked Mary when they were finally
quieted to rational speech. Somehow Cleo seemed to sense a solution to
the mystery Mary was so cautiously unfolding.
"She left the island with us. We must have been very near the equator
off of Central America, and when the fever broke out all the English
left. We came on a very miserable ship, but we were very glad to escape."
"And those men Reda knows," went on Cleo, like a little inquisitor, "did
you meet them on the ship?"
"I don't really know, but I have heard Grandie declare to Reda that they
followed us. I blame them for most of our trouble, of course."
"And I would, too," declared Grace. "Good thing you scared them off with
your flare-up, Madaline. Will you ever forget that movie scene, with all
the lights!"
"But, girls," insisted Mary, serious again, "you know I do not feel I
should stay here, as I am staying, any longer than I actually have to. I
know you are all perfectly lovely, and Mrs. Dunbar is like a--young woman
who lives in a shoe, with so many children and so forth, but I also know
something about propriety, and it seems an imposition for me to bother
you so much."
"There, now," wailed Cleo, "just when everything is being so beautifully
fixed. Mary-love, I have a real scheme, but it's a secret. Can't I have
a secret same as you?" Cleo twisted her head characteristically. "At
any rate," she continued, "we haven't any idea of letting out Peterina
Panna (that's my feminine for Peter Pan); we haven't any idea of letting
her escape. She must stay right here until all this delicious mystery is
cleared up. You see, Peterina Panna, we are only beginning to know your
fairyland story, and now I for one am determined to put all the pieces
together and make a beautiful real dream out of it, only, of course, the
dream must be true."
"Yes, and I just wrote home begging an extension of time, so I could be
in the fairy play at the end," declared Madaline, "for I am going to have
you worked into a princess or something beautiful like that," decided
romantic little Madaline.
"I know you are all sincere," Mary said gently, "and of course it would
be difficult to arrange about going away just now, with Grandie not
strong. But he suggested that I ask Mrs. Dunbar's advice on a boarding
school."
"Don't you dare!" cried Cleo. "She might just pack us all off, and of
course we couldn't blame her, for we have turned Cragsnook into a regular
institution for noisy girls. But, hark ye! Aunt Audrey loves it that
way, and she is planning more noise for Uncle Guy's return. And wait
until you see him! You will love him. But please to remember he is
especially _my_ uncle. And now, scouts, I am going to call this meeting
adjourned. I can smell harvest apples all the way up here. Is there
anything better than those juicy early apples!"
The girls made that opinion unanimous, and what was left of Michael's
apples fifteen minutes later would not even make pickings for Jennie's
pet gray hen.