A PICNIC AND OTHERWISE
A rush of events followed. Chief among them was that of a Girl Scout
picnic, inaugurated by Ted and Jerry, carried out by Nora and enjoyed by
all.
It was a delightful hike out to the Ledge, that big, rugged rock that
leaned over a pretty, disjoined lake, made up of tributaries from
springs and rain flows. Rocky Ledge was exactly that--narrow, rocky; a
table or shelf that leaned out just far enough to form a little portico
over the frivolous waters beneath. It was a charmed spot, with many
thrilling legends to its credit, and being different from the entire
scenery surrounding, it gave the place its name--just like one girl
different from her companions will stand out as an example, if she
happens to be that kind of different that is interesting.
Not that other parts of this territory were commonplace. No, indeed.
There was a fertile farm country, Jerry's precious forests, Ted's
wonderful butterfly haunts and even Nora's cedar groves; but these did
not touch the high spot enjoyed by that novel little ledge; hence the
whole territory was known as Rocky Ledge.
The picnic marked midsummer's festivity. Chickadee Patrol invited
members from other camps out to the Ledge, and when Pell insisted that
Thistle and her aids "do up enough grub" for those invited, a strike was
narrowly averted.
"You know, Pell Mell, the Mantons will bring barrels of things to eat,
so why should we make samples of our miserable home-cooking failures?"
demanded Thistle. Betta was standing hard by egging her on.
"They will bring the lunch, that is, The Lunch, but what about a little
four o'clock snack? There are silver springs out there with water cress
on the cob, and I know our girls are never loath to nibble a bite or two
when out on location," Pell reminded her mutinous crew. That was Pell.
She had a way of getting things done and at the same time making a joke
of it.
"Is Nora going to be inducted?" asked Betta. Next to Alma, Betta was the
most avowed champion of the girl from the Nest.
"Yes, we had a letter today and Becky told us we would have a business
meeting Wednesday, when your precious Babe Nora will be led to the
stake. She will accept the halter of allegiance to Pell, Betta and the
rest of the mob----"
"If you feel so frisky, Pell, I wish you would work off some of the
extra on this tin can. I am supposed to open it with a souvenir trick
can opener. I am sure Betta brought it from the state fair, B. C. 150.
It has all the ear marks of antiquity without any of the teeth,"
declared Wyn, who was struggling with an implement, curious and
wonderful.
"That's a perfectly good can opener," defended Betta. "Jimbsy purloined
it from his own mother's table----"
"Which supports my theory," interrupted Wyn. "His mother's table is none
other than antique. But there! It did cut--my hand into the bargain,"
and she defied all her first-aid rules by sticking a finger in her
mouth. "Glad it cut something."
"Where's Alma?" asked Laddie. "She always gets out of the drudgery."
"Alma was tagged along to town to buy things," explained Thistle. "Becky
is hearing her lessons on the way. Alma is our little freshman, you
know, girls, and while she doesn't wear mourning, she is often in
sorrow."
"She has a great time with Nora, I notice," remarked Doro. "I fancy
between the two of them they have fixed it up about the prince.
Shouldn't be a bit surprised if they invited him to the picnic."
"Now, remember," ordered Wyn, "don't dare say prince. Say duke if you
must, but spare Alma's feelings on the princeling. But honestly, girls,
wasn't it a joke?"
"Not to Alma," answered Treble. "She certainly had a vision if she did
not see a prince. Here she comes. Look at the bundles! Land sakes alive!
If it's more grub I'm going to duck. My fingers are mooing now from
spreading butter," and Treble plastered a slab of the yellow paste on a
square of bread, quite as if it were intended as mortar for a
sky-scraper.
An hour later they were on their way. Nora might have ridden out to the
Ledge in the little runabout, but she preferred to walk with the girls.
"I'm so excited about joining," she confided to Betta and Alma, her hike
partners. "I feel as if I were going to have my final exams."
"You don't want to," advised Betta. "You know your manual perfectly, and
have nothing to worry about. But we shall all be so glad, Nora, when you
are really a Scout. It is all well enough to be a lone Scout out in the
wilderness, but while we're around there is no sense in such isolation."
"The Lone Scout! Oh, I was fascinated reading about the provisions for
such an individual arrangement. Just imagine being a troop of one," said
Nora.
"About as interesting as Laddie's collection of one piece of genuine
mica," replied Betta. "As much as I detest the girls" (she gave Alma's
arms an affectionate squeeze in explanation), "still, I would rather be
pestered with them than to be a Lone Scout on the Big Mountain. There,
Nora! That would make a stunning title for your coming book."
"What book?" demanded the unsuspecting Nora.
"The one that is coming next," serenely replied Betta. "But let us
hasten! See yon girls are turning into the other yon road," she went on.
"We betta----"
A warning chuckle from Alma, cut short her "Betta." Until this
attractive girl learned to respect the all-American R she would never
know peace with her companions.
Joining the others the merry party hiked along; singing, whistling,
calling, laughing and making noises peculiar to girls out on picnics
bent.
Mr. and Mrs. Manton rode to the Ledge, deposited their treat and were
ready to be on their way and leave the girls to their own good time,
almost as soon as the party arrived.
"Oh, stay," besought Pell. "We are counting on having you in for our
games----"
"I wish I could," replied the big brown Jerry. "But the fact is this
wife of mine has planned a little picnic all of her own. You see, when
she got me in on this she knew I could not back out on hers. Yes," he
sighed affectedly, "she has made me promise to take her out canoeing,
and I am not sure what terror she has set for me at the end of the
stream."
"Oh, are you really going down the stream?" cried Treble. "I have just
longed for a ride down through the rapids----"
"Well, you best not take it," spoke up Mrs. Ted. "I am going down the
stream only to explore. And I would not go without the strong arm of a
man at the keel."
"Oh, Jimbsy, where art thou?" wailed Thistle. "Why didn't we treat you
right! Your gallant craft----"
"Get the water there, Cicero," shouted Doro. "This lunch is to have
lemonade a la carte, and there isn't a drop of water in the house. Sorry
to disturb the oration----"
"Gimme the pail," snapped the interrupted Thistle. "I never yet started
anything that Doro didn't finish."
But even the delightful lunch, served on a grassy table with every girl
holding down her own table cloth, for a light little breeze flirted
outrageously with the service--even all this did not tempt the Scouts to
tarry long from the delights of the great, wild open; and before the
normal eating hour had passed the girls were formed in groups and
circles, to suit their individual and collective tastes, and through
field and glen their laughter supplied the marching tune.
Nora was clinging to Alma, with a motive. She had seen the great field
of corn just behind the Ledge, where fertility could be depended upon,
and she was wondering, secretly, if little Lucia might pick weeds out
there?
"Could we go over to those gardens?" she asked the leaders, when the
other girls had all chosen their points for exploration.
"Why, certainly. I am glad to see that you are interested in real
gardens," replied Miss Beckwith. "Those are called the Italian gardens
because Italians work there, not because they bear any resemblance to
the wonderful gardens of Italy."
The temptation was strong within Nora to tell Alma just why she wanted
to go up close to the big women with hoes and rakes; but the memory of
Lucia's dark eyes, that looked so like dewy pansies when the child
begged: "You will never tell," that memory sealed Nora's lips, while she
eagerly sought out any small figure that might be that of the little
slave of labor.
"I don't like those horrid women," said Alma. "Why don't you want to go
over the other way, out into the pretty woodlands, Nora? Come on and
let's run back. I am almost afraid of that ugly creature coming over
that dug-up place," Alma declared.
"I don't like her, either," admitted Nora. "I only wanted to see--them
work--close by."
"Going in for scientific gardening when we make you a real Scout?" Alma
continued, as they both hurried back to the uncultivated territory.
"Lots of girls are trying it, but it's wickedly hard on the hands."
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that, Alma. But I just----" She stopped and
looked frankly into Alma's gray eyes. "Alma," she began again with an
unexpected sigh, "would you think me mean if I asked you to do something
to help me without, well, without explaining fully?" she floundered.
"Why, no, certainly not, Nora. You must have good reason for not wanting
to confide----"
"I do want to confide," Nora quickly took up the charge. "But this is
not my own affair. I have promised not to tell."
"Then don't bother to explain," said Alma, generously. "I'll do all I
can to help you. I am sure it's for a good cause."
"The noblest charity----" Nora checked herself. "I'll tell you. I want
to take my picnic lunch to--some place----" It was next to impossible to
go on without going all the way.
"Nora, darling! You are truly a brave Scout!" declared the admiring
Alma. "There you haven't touched your lovely lunch. Saved it for a
secret charity. Just you wait until you are received into the band of
Chickadees! I'll be your sponsor if I am allowed it, and I'll find a
way----"
"Alma! Alma!" gasped Nora, tragically. "You really must do nothing of
the kind. As happy as I am now at the idea of being a Scout, I shouldn't
even join if I thought that in any way this secret would become known."
She was breathless at the very thought, and had jerked Alma to a
standstill right in the middle of a mud patch, in her excitement.
"Oh, don't worry," soothed Alma. "I had no idea of telling any part of
the secret, that, of course, I really don't know anything about. I was
just planning what I might say to your especial credit if the promoter
should call upon me," she finished with a tinge of disappointment.
"Then help me carry my lunch back to--the woods near our house," said
Nora while the glance she exchanged was a unspoken volume.
"I hope you are not going to give it away to some wild animal," Alma
could not refrain from remarking.
"Oh, no indeed," Nora assured her companion.
"Then why do you not eat it?"
"I have promised----"
"Maybe it's Jimmie," said Alma, with a sly little chuckle.
"Jimmie! Why I have never spoken to him!"
"Oh, you should," the Scout assured her. "He is such a nice, useful
boy."
"Does he work on the farms?" asked Nora seriously.
"I guess he doesn't really work any place in particular, but almost
every place in general," replied Alma. "But let's hurry. The others will
think we got hoed in with the corn."
So they did hurry back to the picnic and back to their strategy.