“Flying Up”
Lowering his voice so that others would not hear, Mr. Vincent related
to the Brownies what had happened many years before.
“As a boy I lived in the city with my father and sister,” he began the
story. “That was before either of us married. We did not have very much
money in those days.
“For some reason my father did not entirely trust the banks. So he kept
some of his savings in the house. To make the story short, five hundred
dollars disappeared.”
“And you were accused?” interposed Connie.
All of the Brownies and Miss Gordon were listening attentively to the
story.
“Yes, I never could understand why my father had so little faith in me
that he would make such an accusation. Perhaps it was because I was a
heavy spender of my earnings in those days. Easy come--easy go, was my
motto then. I’ve since reformed.”
“You say five hundred dollars vanished?” Miss Cordon asked
thoughtfully. “Was it never recovered.”
“Never. My father was sure I had taken it because no one except my
sister and myself had been in the house.”
“Maybe someone broke in,” suggested Rosemary.
Mr. Vincent smiled and shook his head. “My father almost never left the
house in those days. He was old and ailing. In fact, the feeling that I
had taken his money was an obsession with him.”
“He died without learning that you were honest?” asked Veve, deeply
troubled.
“Yes,” the carpenter replied. “I should have told you that my father
ordered me out of the house. Instead of trying to reason with him, I
packed up and left.”
“Your sister didn’t take your part?” Miss Gordon questioned.
“Far from it. Minnie sided with my father. After he died, she married
and moved to this house. Her husband never was well-to-do, and he also
passed on a few years ago. About all Minnie had was this house and the
furniture--most of that came from the old homestead.”
“How long ago was it that your father died?” the Brownie leader
inquired.
“Twenty-nine years ago.” The carpenter drew a deep sigh. “How fast time
passes! It hardly seems possible.
“In those twenty-nine years I’ve tried repeatedly to make Minnie come
to her senses. She’s as stubborn as a mule! She took the attitude that
disappointment over me hastened my father’s death. Minnie just hasn’t
been rational on the subject.”
“It seems funny that five hundred dollars could just disappear,” Connie
offered her opinion. “Maybe it was spent.”
“I rather doubt that.”
“What do you think did become of it?” Veve asked.
“I wish I knew, little girl. Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve
thought, though, that my father might have hidden the money somewhere
and forgotten about it.”
“From what you say, he could have done exactly that!” declared Miss
Gordon.
“Unfortunately, the money never came to light. And it never will.”
“I don’t suppose so,” Miss Gordon regretfully admitted. “Thirty years,
or twenty-nine, to be exact, is a very long time.”
“A great deal of water has gone over the dam,” the carpenter murmured.
“Our old family homestead has been sold, and now the last of the
furniture is gone. Poor Minnie! If only I could help her!”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Vincent,” Miss Gordon said to cheer him. “Right now
she is very much upset to see her home sold. However, after she has
had a few days to reflect upon matters, she may view everything in a
different light.”
“You don’t know my sister Minnie if you think she will ever change her
mind about me! She never will accept a penny from me--she’d go to the
Poorhouse first.”
“Those were her very words!” Connie recalled.
“Minnie is convinced I stole the money and nothing ever will make her
change her mind.”
“Not even if the money were found?” asked Veve.
“That is an impossibility now,” Mr. Vincent answered. “I’m sorry to
have bored you with my story. I only told you what happened so you
would understand.”
“We’re sure you never took the money!” cried Veve.
“I should say not!” added Connie.
“Thank you, for having confidence in me,” Mr. Vincent said, smiling.
“Well, I’ll move along, or my sister will think it odd that I am
talking with you.”
He turned and gripped Miss Gordon’s hand. “Thank you mightily for
looking after Minnie,” he said. “I can’t give you money now for her
keep, or she would refuse to go with you. Later, I’ll see that you’re
repaid.”
The teacher assured him that pay for an act of kindness had not entered
her mind. Promising to let him know how matters went with Mrs. Myles,
she escorted her Brownie charges to the parked car.
“What was Sam saying to you?” the widow demanded as they squeezed into
the sedan beside her.
Before anyone could answer, she announced flatly: “If he’s given you
money for my keep, I won’t go an inch--not an inch!”
“Mr. Vincent didn’t give me any money,” Miss Gordon said in a soothing
voice. “He is concerned about your future though.”
“I can imagine!” Mrs. Myles retorted. “I’ll have nothing to do with him
and that’s final.”
Although the Brownies longed to question the widow about the lost five
hundred dollars, they knew better than to do so.
She herself abruptly changed the subject by talking about the
cross-stitched pillow which Veve had bought.
“My mother made that pillow and set great store by it,” she remarked
sadly. “It’s gone now--everything is gone.”
“You keep it,” Veve said quickly. “Please take it back.”
Mrs. Myles smiled through her tears. “Thank you, child,” she said,
patting Veve’s hand. “No, I can’t take the pillow. It would mean
nothing to me now in any case. My life is ended.”
Lapsing into a moody silence, she said no more during the ride to Miss
Gordon’s home.
During the next week and a half, the Brownies saw Mrs. Myles
infrequently. Nevertheless, she managed to dominate their lives.
Whenever they called at Miss Gordon’s home, they found her occupying
a rocker in the sun room. She complained constantly about her “hard
lot,” yet made no attempt to plan a future.
The Brownies knew Miss Gordon was worried because the old lady took so
much of her time. She was forced to cancel a Brownie meeting. Unable to
take the girls to the tree house, she asked Mrs. Davidson to drive them
there in her car.
“Were losing Miss Gordon,” Veve declared one day when the girls were
all at the tree house. “It’s Mrs. Myles’ fault too! I don’t think it’s
fair of her to take up so much of anyone’s time.”
“Mrs. Myles doesn’t mean to be selfish,” Connie defended her. “She just
doesn’t think, that’s all.”
Mrs. Davidson told the girls she did not believe very much could be
done to change the unfortunate situation.
“Miss Gordon can’t very well send Mrs. Myles to the county home,” she
said. “She has no other place to go.”
“She could live with her brother,” Veve insisted.
“If she would,” agreed Mrs. Davidson. “But why discuss something we
know is utterly out of the picture? I doubt if Mrs. Myles ever will
change her mind.”
As the fall days grew a bit sharper, the Brownies visited their tree
house every few days. They wished to make the most of their time,
knowing that very soon the snow would fly.
“We’ve had such wonderfully good times here,” Eileen said wistfully.
“It seems a pity we never learned who built the house for us.”
“Mr. Karwhite could tell if he would,” declared Rosemary. “Whenever
I ask him about it, he only smiles and says the secret isn’t his to
reveal.”
“After the fifteenth of the month, we likely won’t be coming here
again,” Sunny remarked. “Oh, dear!”
Now the Brownies had set aside the fifteenth as the day upon which they
would have their last ceremonial meeting of the fall season. On this
occasion, Eileen would “fly up” into the Girl Scout organization.
“I almost wish I could be a Brownie forever,” she remarked regretfully.
“Being a Girl Scout will be fun too though!”
For nearly two weeks Miss Gordon had taken little active part in the
Brownie meetings. Instead, she had turned the programs over to Mrs.
Davidson and Connie’s mother.
However, the girls knew she would be on hand for the final ceremony of
the year. To insure that their leader could come, they had extended an
invitation to Mrs. Myles as well as their own parents.
“I hope the weather is right,” Connie said anxiously. “What a pity if
it should turn cold before Saturday.”
“Rain or shine we’ll have to hold the ceremonial,” Mrs. Davidson
assured the girls.
All that week the girls worked very hard preparing for the affair. The
tree house was given a thorough cleaning and everything put to right.
By Saturday, cookies and cakes had been baked ready to serve to the
mothers. Brownie uniforms and ties also had been pressed and cleaned.
Several Girl Scouts and their leader planned to attend the ceremonial.
“Everyone will be here,” Eileen declared, her teeth chattering. “Oh,
I’m so scared. I know I’ll forget my lines.”
“You will not,” comforted Connie, squeezing her hand. “Almost before
you know it now, you’ll be a Girl Scout.”
“But being a Brownie was such fun, Connie. I almost think I don’t want
to fly up.”
“Nonsense!” Connie laughed. “We’ll all join the Scouts before long. And
you always may come back and visit our tree house.”
This assurance made Eileen feel much better.
Soon Miss Gordon, Mrs. Myles and many of the parents began to arrrive
at the tree house.
Because it would have been impossible to get even a portion of the
crowd into the house at one time, it was planned to hold the ceremonial
at the foot of the oak tree.
The day had started out warm and sunny. This pleasant beginning,
however, was only a “teaser.”
Not long after the parents had gathered, clouds began darkening the sky.
“We’re due for rain,” announced Mrs. Myles, drawing her shawl about
her. “Soon too.”
Miss Gordon and the mothers shared the old lady’s opinion. So it was
decided that the ceremony should be hastened.
Those who were not to take part, seated themselves on cushions near the
base of the big oak.
The Brownies formed a horseshoe, and upon signal, the Scout Troop made
a similar one opposite the younger girls.
Miss Gordon then opened the service by saying that the time had come
for Eileen to take wings and fly up to the Rosedale Girl Scout Troop.
“Tell us, Eileen,” she invited, “what did you like best about being a
Brownie?”
Now that question was very easy to answer.
“I liked everything,” she answered promptly. “The hikes, the parties
and the cook-outs. I loved our wonderful week-end at Snow Valley and
the time we spent with the circus. It was fun picking cherries too. But
best of all, I liked this tree house!”
All of the Brownies cheered, for of course, they felt the same way.
Now came an important moment.
Miss Gordon moved forward and pinned the Brownie Wings on Eileen’s Girl
Scout uniform. Of gold, embroidered on green felt, they signified her
past membership in the Brownie organization.
Eileen then was asked to repeat the Girl Scout Promise:
“On my honor, I will try:
To do my duty to God and my country,
To help other people at all times,
To obey the Girl Scout Laws.”
The Girl Scouts then greeted Eileen as a new member after reciting in
unison their laws:
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 is a friend to animals.
A Girl Scout obeys orders.
A Girl Scout is cheerful.
A Girl Scout is thrifty.
A Girl Scout is clean in thought, word and deed.
The Scout pin was bestowed upon Eileen, who then was welcomed into the
troop by the girl Scouts of the Rosedale Troop.
“I guess I’m a full-fledged Scout now,” she said with a laugh. “Dear
me, it seems a Girl Scout must be just about everything!”
The ceremony now was over, and everyone congratulated Eileen. She was
glad to have joined the older girls’ organization, but of course she
was sorry to bid farewell to the Brownie troop.
“I really should fly down instead of ‘fly up,’” she remarked, gazing
ruefully at the tree house. “After having a meeting house up in the
branches, it will seem strange to have a regular down-to-earth meeting
place.”
“A regular room has some advantages though,” declared Connie as a drop
of rain splashed on her upturned face. “One thing, you aren’t always in
danger of being caught by a storm.”
The rain began to come down faster and faster.
“Let’s all run to the shelter house,” urged Miss Gordon. “I don’t
believe this will last very long.”
The mothers and friends of the Brownies hastened through the woods to
the gate house.
For five minutes the rain came down very fast and hard. Then it ceased
as abruptly as it had started.
“I believe it’s safe to return for our cookies and cake,” encouraged
Miss Gordon as the sun straggled out again. “The trail isn’t very
muddy.”
Some of the Girl Scouts and the mothers did not care to return to the
tree house since the investiture had been completed.
However, all of the Brownies, Eileen, Miss Gordon, Mrs. Myles and a few
of the mothers braved the slippery path to have their refreshments.
Before leaving the tree house, Miss Gordon had taken care that all of
the food was under cover. Some of the cushions had been overlooked.
As the group reached the base of the oak tree, Mrs. Myles noticed that
the cross-stitch one which once had belonged to her, was thoroughly
rain soaked.
“Oh, what a shame!” she exclaimed, picking it up from the ground. “The
feathers must be aired or they will mat down.”
With a hairpin, Mrs. Myles ripped the covering of the pillow. Reaching
in, she began to fluff the damp feathers.
“If these don’t dry out before I leave, I’ll take the pillow home--”
she began.
Mrs. Myles did not complete what she had started to say.
Instead a most peculiar expression came over her face.
“Why, what is wrong, Mrs. Myles?” inquired Connie, who had been
gathering up the other water-soaked pillows. She thought that perhaps
the elderly woman suddenly had been taken ill.
“I--I think I’ve found something inside this pillow,” Mrs. Myles said
in a strange voice.
The Brownies and their mothers quickly closed in about her.
“What have you found?” demanded Veve, for Mrs. Myles had not withdrawn
her hand from the interior of the pillow.
“It’s something round--tied with a piece of string,” Mrs. Myles
murmured. “I’m--I’m almost afraid to look.”
Now the Brownies thought this a most peculiar attitude to take.
“What have you found?” Veve repeated impatiently. “Show us!”
Very slowly, Mrs. Myles withdrew her hand. Clutched in her gnarled fist
was a roll of greenbacks. The bills were neatly fastened in a roll with
a piece of string.
“Money!” shrieked Veve in such an excited voice that a squirrel
overhead dropped a nut. “Where’d it come from?”
Mrs. Myles held the bills almost as if they would burn a hole in her
hand. She leaned back against the oak tree for support.
“I think I know how this came to be inside the pillow,” she said in a
shaky voice. “If this roll should contain exactly five hundred dollars,
then I’ve done a grave injustice to my brother Sam!”