Collecting Buttons
For ten minutes heavy rain fell. Back and forth the tree house rocked,
the branches beneath the planking creaking weirdly.
To make the girls forget the storm, Miss Gordon began to tell them of
plans for early fall activities.
“Soon the weather may turn cold, and then we’ll be unable to come here
to the park,” she declared. “For the time being, we’ll work on our
nature scrapbooks. After those are finished, how would you like to
collect buttons?”
Now this idea was entirely new to the Brownies.
“Button, button, who has the button?” warbled Veve. Rocking back and
forth in the tree house made her feel a trifle silly.
“We have some buttons at home in Mother’s sewing basket,” said Rosemary
without too much enthusiasm.
“My mother will let me have some of her extra ones,” declared Sunny.
Miss Gordon explained that she did not refer to ordinary buttons which
could be bought in the stores.
“I propose to have the troop collect only unusual ones,” she told the
girls. “Many buttons are very decorative and beautiful. Some of the old
ones have historical significance.”
“Just as quilts do!” exclaimed Rosemary. “Remember those we collected
to display at the cherry festival?”
“I’m afraid old buttons may be a trifle more difficult to find than
pattern quilts,” Miss Gordon warned the girls. “Nevertheless, even if
we fail to find many buttons, we’ll have a good time searching for
them.”
Jane inquired what would be done with the buttons once they were
collected.
Miss Gordon explained that they might be strung, mounted on cards for
display or made into beautiful pins.
“A pin!” cried Veve, now intrigued by the proposal. “That’s what I’d
like. Where will we find old buttons?”
Miss Gordon replied that each girl must conduct her own search.
“I can give you a few hints though,” she said. “Old buttons frequently
may be found in attics, usually attached to out-of-style garments.”
“I’m going through our attic just as soon as I return home!” announced
Sunny. “I think some of my great-great-grandmother’s dresses are packed
in a walnut chest.”
“Whatever you do, don’t snip any buttons without first asking
permission,” warned the leader. “Your mother wouldn’t like that, I’m
sure.”
“We have no old clothes in our attic,” said Veve in a crestfallen tone.
“We haven’t an attic for that matter.”
“Many of us are in that same situation,” smiled Miss Gordon. “If you
have no attic, inquire of friends and acquaintances. Elderly persons in
particular are likely to have old buttons.”
“I know a lady who might have some!” exclaimed Veve, for the teacher’s
remark had given her an idea. “She’s old enough!”
The little girl winked at Connie, who guessed that Mrs. Minnie Myles
was the person meant. However, neither she nor Veve knew where the
woman lived, or whether or not she would be friendly.
Miss Gordon suggested that the girls see how many buttons they could
collect before the next Brownie meeting.
“May we hold it right here in the tree house?” pleaded Jane.
Now that she was becoming accustomed to the gentle rocking of the tree,
she no longer felt frightened by the storm.
In fact, so snug was the little house, that she rather enjoyed the dash
of rain against the tiny window.
The other Brownie Scouts were feeling more at ease too. They did not
mind how long the storm lasted.
“We’ll decide about our meeting place later on,” Miss Gordon answered
Jane’s question. “This tree house is nice though. And I must admit that
whoever built it for us, did an excellent job.”
Observing that the rain had nearly ceased, the teacher went to the door.
As she opened it, a blast of cool air rushed in. Stepping out onto the
balcony, Miss Gordon studied the overcast sky. Clouds were moving
swiftly. The sun, however, was trying to straggle through.
“The first part of the storm has passed over,” she commented. “During
the lull, we should be able to make it to the gate house.”
“Oh, must we leave so soon?” protested Eileen. “We were having such
fun!”
“I don’t like the look of those clouds,” Miss Gordon replied uneasily.
“The wind may pay us a return visit. Buckle on your galoshes, kiddies,
and let’s be on our way.”
Reluctantly, the Brownies put on their overshoes and gathered up
sweaters and jackets.
“Before we go, let’s wish for a little stove or a fireplace!” suddenly
proposed Veve. “Then when we come again, maybe it will be here waiting
for us!”
“Whoever heard of a fireplace in a tree house!” scoffed Eileen.
“Well, we could have a little stove,” Veve defended her idea. “It would
make the house cozy and nice on chilly days.”
“Let’s be content with the room as it is,” said Miss Gordon.
“You don’t really think we’d get a stove if we wished for it?” Veve
demanded.
“Probably not,” laughed Miss Gordon. “This oak tree seems to have large
ears however. Even though one can’t believe in magic, strange things
have happened here--delightful but amazing things. I simply can’t
understand who would give us this little house.”
“You’re certain you didn’t arrange to have it built for us as a nice
surprise?” questioned Rosemary.
“Gracious, no!” the teacher denied. “The house was as much of a shock
to me as to anyone else.”
“Mr. Karwhite says he didn’t do it either,” commented Connie, thinking
aloud. “He smiles whenever he speaks of the tree house though. I think
he must know who built it or at least have an idea.”
“I intend to talk to him,” said the Brownie leader. “I’d like to know
who built the place, if only to express our appreciation.”
Knowing that they must make haste, the girls hurriedly left the tree
house. Walking carefully on the slippery steps, they descended single
file to the ground.
“Miss Gordon is right!” Connie announced as they started away from the
clearing. “It’s certainly going to rain again.”
Miss Gordon was somewhat disturbed to note how swiftly the clouds were
moving.
“We must hurry, girls,” she urged. “I think we can make it to the
gatehouse at least.”
The Brownies walked as fast as they could, but the trail was muddy.
Often they had to make little detours to avoid deep patches of surface
water. Mud caked on their galoshes and had to be dug off with sticks.
Drippy bushes splattered droplets, dampening their uniforms.
“I feel like an elephant walking!” laughed Veve, lifting up an overshoe
encased foot which was heavy with muck. “Here I go! Plop! Plop! Plop!”
“Never mind the comedy,” called Miss Gordon from the head of the line.
“If we don’t move faster, the storm will catch us again.”
Made uneasy by the darkening of the trail, the girls heeded their
leader’s warning.
Even though they walked fast, they were far from the gatehouse when
rain again began to fall. The drops were smaller this time, but they
came down steadily.
“Oh, it’s going to rain a long time,” groaned Connie. “We’ll be soaked
getting home.”
“Brownies are tough!” declared Jane staunchly. “We can take it.”
“We can,” agreed Eileen, ducking her head to avoid the sheet of rain.
“But who wants to? I’m freezing!”
As she spoke, a flash of lightning brightened the trail.
Although it was not close, the clap of thunder seemed very loud in the
forest. Several of the Brownies cringed and gazed anxiously at their
leader.
“We’ll soon be out of the woods--” began Miss Gordon encouragingly.
Another flash of lightning startled the girls. This time it was
brighter and the roar of thunder followed quickly.
“Wow! That was close!” exclaimed Veve, breathing hard.
“Too close for comfort,” agreed Miss Gordon. “I’m glad we left the tree
house. We’re not very safe here amid the trees though. One could be
struck.”
The Brownie leader was thoroughly familiar with all the park trails.
Even though a blinding wall of rain had started to descend, she knew
which direction to turn when the path forked.
“How far to the gate house?” gasped Veve. The distance never had seemed
so long before.
“Several hundred yards,” the teacher told her. Anxiously she gazed up
at the swaying tree branches.
As she watched, a heavy dead limb came crashing down, falling across
the trail.
“The road is close by,” said Miss Gordon, making a quick decision.
“We’ll strike for it, and then circle back to the gate house. On the
road we’ll be in no danger of having limbs fall on us.”
Taking an off-shoot path, the teacher led the girls to an old-fashioned
rail fence. They scrambled over, leaped a ditch and reached the paved
main highway.
“At least it’s easier walking here!” gasped Sunny. “But that rain!”
A loud “toot, toot!” sounded directly behind the girls.
The Brownies moved farther to the side of the road to allow the car to
pass.
Instead, it pulled up alongside.
“Want a ride into town?” inquired the driver.
The man who had called wore heavy work clothes. Veve noticed a set of
carpenter tools in the back of his car as she peered curiously in. The
car itself was rather old and dirty, but no one minded about that.
“Indeed, we’ll be grateful for a ride!” exclaimed Miss Gordon.
The girls piled into the car. Miss Gordon, Veve and Rosemary sat in the
front with the driver. The others scrambled into the rear seat.
“Going far?” inquired the man in a friendly way.
“We had intended to seek shelter at the gate house,” Miss Gordon
explained. “If you’re driving to Rosedale though, we’ll ride
along--that is, if it doesn’t inconvenience you.”
“Glad to have you,” the man assured her cordially. “This storm sure
came up fast.”
He then introduced himself as Sam Vincent, and explained that he was
a carpenter by trade. The man said he had been building a porch at a
house three miles down the road, but had halted work when the rain
started.
“We were in our tree house when the wind came up,” Veve announced.
Mention of a tree house so interested Mr. Vincent that he asked a
great many questions. The girls told him about the mysterious person
who had built the playhouse, and also about the mischievous boys.
“When I was driving to work this morning I saw four boys climbing the
fence into the park,” the carpenter recalled.
“Then maybe they’re the ones who mixed up the trail signs!” exclaimed
Veve.
“I drive past the park nearly every day,” Sam Vincent said. “If I see
those boys up to any mischief, I’ll report them.”
Even though it meant driving a considerable distance out of his
way, the carpenter insisted upon taking all of the girls to their
separate homes.
Miss Gordon, Veve and Connie were the last ones to be dropped off.
“We appreciate this so much,” said the Brownie leader, thanking him for
all of the girls.
“I should say so!” added Veve. “I hope we see you again some time, Mr.
Vincent.”
“You probably will,” he replied, his eyes twinkling.
“You must come to see our tree house,” Veve invited him earnestly. And
then without thinking that the other Brownies might object, she added:
“Come next Saturday--for lunch.”
“It’s a date,” agreed Mr. Vincent, pleased by the invitation. “Shall we
say twelve o’clock sharp?”
Veve glanced at Miss Gordon and Connie, who made no move to help her
out of the predicament.
The carpenter accepted their silence for assent.
“Saturday noon,” he repeated, shifting gears. “I’ll be there, and with
a huge appetite!”