crept and there she had found strength to bear the suspense! Kneeling
before one of the old broken chairs, she repeated over and over a little
prayer she had made:
"Please God, make Garrett well! He was so brave and I was so wicked!
I'm the one you ought to punish! Please make him well and I'll never,
never be wicked again!"
Sometimes she would vary the wording of her little prayer and once,
thinking that perhaps her clumsy sentences might not reach the Father's
ear, she carried a prayer-book to the Eyrie and slowly, with great
emphasis, repeated the prayer for the sick that she had often heard in
church.
Going downstairs from one of these vigils in the Eyrie she heard
Sheila's voice. Her heart stopped beating with an instant's fear! She
rushed into the room where Sheila was talking to Aunt Pen and her Daddy.
"He is----" She could not make herself ask the question.
Sheila turned. Her tired face was bright with joy. "Garrett's better!
He will get well! We didn't telephone because I wanted to tell you! I
had to come home, for mother needed me."
"Really, truly?" Pat could scarcely believe that the black shadow was
lifted from her. Sheila nodded laughingly.
"Really, truly! The doctor says he has a wonderful constitution! And
we're all so glad, because we love Mrs. Lee so much!"
With quivering lips Pat turned and threw herself into her father's arms.
There was so much she wanted to tell--of her silly vanity, her wicked
recklessness, her leading another into danger, but the words would not
come!
"I'll always remember--how he looked--up on the bank!" she shuddered,
her face hidden against her father's coat. "I asked God to make him
well and He did, and I guess I'll remember never--to be--wicked again!"
And as though he understood how truly repentant poor Pat was, her dear
Daddy patted her shoulder and held her very close.
*CHAPTER XVI*
*GOOD TURNS*
The winter days passed quickly in the Everett household. Each moment
was filled with work or play. And so delightfully intermingled was the
play with the work that the girls found themselves tackling their Latin
verbs with the same zest they threw into their outdoor recreation.
In spite of the holidays and the suspense of Garrett Lee's illness the
routine of Aunt Pen's "school" had been renewed with little difficulty.
Pat, who always before had been very indifferent to the report system
followed at Miss Prindle's, suddenly developed deep concern and pride in
the reports that Aunt Pen carefully prepared at the end of each week to
show Daddy and then tucked away in the spinnet desk to wait mother's
return. She was improving in her Latin and her French; she could write
a letter now with only one or two misspelled words; she tackled the
difficult problems in Algebra in a fine fighting spirit, and with great
pride--after many mortifying failures--was able to set before her father
three beautifully browned loaves of bread!
Daddy had declared that such triumph must have its reward and had
carried them all--pupils and teacher--off to the theatre to see
"Penrod."
The Eaglets still gathered in the Eyrie. How much nearer each was
coming to her ambitions no one of them could tell--that they were still
steadfastly true to their pledge to help one another was certain;
unconsciously perhaps, they did it by the strength of their friendship.
"LaDue and Everett" had developed a thriving business. Pat, quite all
by herself, had gone to Brown Brothers, the leading bookstore in the
city, and had sought and obtained an order for hand-painted valentines.
This had given her courage to approach Miss Higgins and a nearby
Gift-shop. Very proudly she presented the three orders to the senior
member of the firm.
"There, I guess _that'll_ make us work!"
At first Renee was aghast at the amount of work, but with Pat to help
her and by steady application--although Aunt Pen was firm in her command
that the work must not interfere with the outdoor play--she was able to
complete the orders by the first of February. And so beautifully had
the little valentines been made that Brown Brothers immediately ordered
ten dozen dinner cards!
The rush of business set Pat at the company's books which had gotten
into such a muddle that they had to be taken to Daddy to be straightened
out. Pat's figures were like a Chinese puzzle running up and down the
pages of her imposing ledger. Poor Mr. Everett had a knotty problem
putting them into proper shape and Pat had a lesson in accounting!
Altogether, after all expenses had been paid, there was left to the
account of the youthful firm a sum of eighteen dollars and fifty cents.
Two-thirds of this, Pat declared, must be Renee's, because the
responsibility of the work fell upon her--"though I'll just say it isn't
any fun getting up your nerve to go in and ask for an order! They
always treat you like a kid!" she explained, indignantly.
There were many demands upon their earnings. The scout uniforms had been
bought; the girls each pledged six dollars to the Victory Army; there
was the Red Cross, too, and the French Babies and the Vacation Fund for
the tots at home--innumerable other good causes, worthy of their help.
"It makes me feel so grown-up to sign my name to all these pledges and
things and pay for it out of my _very_ own money!" And Pat assumed a
comically mature air.
Pat was a real "Yellowbird" now and Renee was a "scrub." The girls had
joined a swimming class, too; Pat, having spent many summers at the
seashore was like a fish in the water, and helped Renee, who had to
overcome a physical terror at the very thought of slipping over into the
tank!
Early in February Garrett Lee was brought back to the city from
Hill-top. Pat, with Aunt Pen, had immediately gone to see him and his
mother. Mrs. Lee's kind welcome drove away the fear that had teen in
Pat's heart; impulsively she threw her arms about Mrs. Lee's neck and,
because Mrs. Lee could always see straight into the hearts of her boys
and girls, she knew what prompted the caress and gave an affectionate
hug in return.
"Garrett doesn't want one single word ever said about it all," she
whispered in Pat's ear.
After that Pat went almost daily to the Lee house--sometimes with a
book, or a basket of fruit or some home-made candy. At first she was a
little shy in her friendly devotion, but after a while, so truly
grateful did Garrett seem for her company and the things she brought to
relieve the monotony of his convalescence, she simply rang the bell and
ran straight up to his room. When these frequent visits interfered with
lessons Aunt Pen said not a word, for she knew Pat was trying to make up
in some small way for the harm she had wrought!
As Garrett grew stronger the young people deserted the Eyrie for the
pleasant Lee living-room. "It does him more good than a trip to
Florida!" his mother declared, looking with satisfaction at her patient.
And the boys and girls were learning thoughtfulness and considerateness.
When Peggy, of her own will, suddenly lowered her voice, and Jim Archer,
without a word, shoved a pillow back of Garrett's head as he sat on the
old divan, Mrs. Lee had thought--hard as it had been--Garrett's illness
had brought some good.
Pat had never known before the wholesomeness of jolly comradeship with a
large circle of boys and girls; she found it now in these pleasant
gatherings at the Lees. Bob Slocum and Peggy could think of so many
games; Jim Archer--all in one afternoon--had composed, staged, and
produced a melodrama, "Heinie the Hun," although, because Pat could not
control her giggling, the irate author-manager had made her play the
drum to mark the dramatic climaxes. There were endless and lively
discussions over everything under sun and earth; jolly songs with Mrs.
Lee at the piano, and always some careful eye to notice when Garrett
showed signs of fatigue.
And to Pat the best of all was when Garrett, one afternoon, had confided
to her that he was planning an airship with a new kind of stabilizer;
showed her his drawings and explained how, for days since his illness,
he had been studying a housefly which he had caught and imprisoned in
the old fish bowl. Pat wanted very much to tell the others what great
things Garrett was going to do but he had made her promise on her
scout's honor to keep his secret, so she carried it faithfully locked
away in her heart, proud that Garrett should have honored her with his
confidence after the unhappy accident at Hill-top!
"We're _pals_--just's if I was a boy," she said to herself.
As the weeks slipped by Renee, to Aunt Pen's delight, was rapidly
developing a fascinating and forceful personality. With so many true
friends and playmates the shyness had gradually disappeared from her
manner; contrasted with Pat's dynamic spirits Renee would always seem
quiet, but her will was strong and often, in her gentle way, she was a
leader among the young people. With a character that had been moulded
and guarded by a simple life, she had in her a rare beauty and purity of
thought that seemed to shine in her pretty face and clear eyes.
Happiness and healthy living were dispelling the shadows from her young
life; she could talk of Susette and the old cottage without a quivering
of the lips; she often drew for Pat, as though she enjoyed it, a vivid
description of how splendid Emile had looked in his uniform as he had
marched away with the others--a rose she had given him stuck jauntily in
his belt!
The cessation of the fighting and the approaching peace had brought many
problems. Wounded men were coming home, employment was uncertain,
living expenses soaring higher and higher; actual want stalked in many
homes. And to add to it all a terrible epidemic had raged through the
city, leaving in its wake untold misery and suffering.
There was serious work for everyone to do. There were countless ways in
which the Girl Scouts helped. "Good turns," they called it and they
held themselves always ready for the command of any organization, never
counting one moment of sacrifice, tireless and faithful.
"What do you think now?" Pat burst in upon her family from a special
meeting of the troop. "The Scouts are going to adopt families!"
This astonishing announcement caused Mr. Everett to throw up his hands
in mock dismay.
"Good gracious, Pat, black or white?"
"I'm really very serious, Daddy, and Mrs. Townsend from the Red Cross
says we can make it a beautiful work! One family is assigned to each of
us. We give as much time as we can spare and do everything we
can--amuse the children, take 'em out, make things easier for the
mothers so's they can rest and get strong again! You see these are
families that have been sick. Mine is Mrs. K-a-s-u-b-o-w-s-k-i," she
read from a card.
Pat had, in her way, expressed the scout orders. To each of the older
scouts had been assigned a family that had suffered from the epidemic.
Each girl was to work under the direction of the District Nurse and in
cooeperation with the Red Cross. She was to give brief reports of each
visit. And knowing that these girls could, in the homes to which they
were sent, win trust where older women often met suspicion and
unfriendliness, the Red Cross hoped to build up through their services,
a sympathy and understanding that would benefit everyone and draw more
closely the bonds of common interest.
In her youthful mind Pat did not sense any such vision; she only knew
that her scout orders directed her to go and do all she could for a
family whose name she simply could not pronounce; that her card stated
that there was a Rosa, aged seven, a Josef, age six, a Stephanie, aged
three and a baby Peter; that everyone of them had been desperately ill,
including the father and mother; that only within the last two or three
weeks had the father been able to go back to work and that upon the poor
mother, still weak from the ravages of fever, had fallen the burden of
making the meagre savings tide them over.
Pat called them all her "Kewpies." Her first two visits left her
discouraged, the children were dirty and quarrelsome, the mother
unfriendly. But, gradually, armed with picture books and toys, Pat won
the liking of the little ones; at the next visit she gave them cakes of
soap which Renee had carved to resemble dogs and pigs and promised them
more if they would use these "all up"; warm sunshine permitted a long
walk and outdoor play and Mrs. Kewpie, gratefully realizing that for an
hour she was absolutely without chick or child, caught a much-needed
moment of rest!
Renee had not been given a family by the Red Cross. At first she was
disappointed, then, wholeheartedly, she fell to helping Pat. Aunt Pen
and Daddy, too, were deeply interested. Almost every evening the
"Kewpies" were discussed at the "pow-wow." Aunt Pen was aghast that
Mrs. Kewpie could speak only a word or two of English!
"How can she be expected to bring up good American citizens--let alone
be one herself?" she asked heatedly.
Through Rosa Pat learned that poor Mrs. Kewpie would really like to talk
and read English. Her husband had learned it at his shop, the older
children were learning it at school; less and less they were talking the
only language she had ever known! She felt, with the quick instinct of
her mother's heart, that they were growing away from her into a world of
interests where she could not follow. No one had ever offered to teach
her this new, strange tongue! She was afraid of the teachers in Rosa's
school! She misunderstood and resented the approaches of the few
English-speaking women she had met; proud herself, she had thought them
patronizing and officious! But Pat was just a girl!
So Pat, quite unconsciously, began making a good American citizen out of
Mrs. Kewpie. She found that the picture books she brought the children
interested the mother, too--not because of the pictures alone but
because the mother could make out, through them, the meaning of the
words beneath them. When Pat told of this at home Aunt Pen thought of
the beautiful plan of making for Mrs. Kewpie a primer out of pictures.
Every evening, for a week, the entire Everett family worked
industriously with scissors and paste, compiling what Aunt Pen
laughingly called: "Everett's First Lessons in the American Language."
"She'll know all about this country of ours when she's graduated from
_this_ book," declared Mr. Everett, proudly smoothing down a colored
picture of the Capitol at Washington.
"And for everything I teach her in English I'm going to ask her to teach
me a word in Polish! It's such a funny looking language and then it
_sounds_ like music! They have lots of awfully exciting stories in
their history--Keineth Randolph told us some that her father had told
her! And in the next book, let's have pictures of flowers and mountains
and water and things like the country, 'cause I guess poor Mrs. Kewpie
thinks there _aren't_ such things!"
Prompted by this thought on her next visit Pat carried to the Kewpie
kitchen a pink geranium plant. Then she conceived the idea of making the
untidy kitchen look as much like Mrs. Quinn's as possible! So interested
did she grow in her work that for two afternoons she completely forgot
basketball practice, thereby bringing down upon her head the fury of the
Captain of the Yellowbirds!
And when Baby Peter fell sick with some digestive disorder, Pat, with
the help of the District Nurse, was able to persuade Mrs. Kewpie that a
daily bath would reduce the slight fever and to substitute the sweet,
fresh milk that the nurse had brought in the place of the coffee she was
accustomed to feed the baby.
Now Renee, to her delight, was given an opportunity to share the "good
turns."
One afternoon Mrs. Lee, always an angel of kindness and of wide charity,
had sought Renee's help. She explained to Renee, as they walked along
together, that this was a "case" of her own, and that she was taking her
to this house because she thought she might bring a little sunshine into
a very lonely life there.
"Poor Mrs. Forrester is very cross and very queer, my dear! No one ever
goes to see her now and she lives all alone with a servant almost as old
as she is! I thought that if you would go there once in awhile and read
to her you might help her pass the long hours."
Mrs. Lee did not add that she hoped the child's quiet, sympathetic
manner might waken some tenderness in a heart as cold and dead as stone.
Mrs. Forrester lived in a very old house in an out-of-the-way street.
Standing almost concealed by trees and overgrown shrubbery, it looked
like some forgotten corner of the big, growing city. The door creaked
on its hinges as the untidy old servant grudgingly opened it just far
enough to permit them to enter. The rooms were dark, dusty and
absolutely bare of any furnishings except a few worn chairs. Not a
picture, not a book, not one spot of color was to be seen! There were
no curtains at the windows and the cracked dingy-brown shades had been
pulled close to the sill as though to forbid one tiny gleam of sunlight
filtering through.
Renee thought it the most horrid house she had ever seen and wondered
how Mrs. Lee could step into it so cheerfully!
But always tender with old people, she immediately felt sorry for the
queer old woman propped up against a pile of pillows in a great, ugly
bed.
"It isn't that she's so very old--or sick! I believe she just _won't_
stir! Mrs. Lee says she has had a very unhappy life," Renee explained
at home. Now Mrs. Forrester and the ugly old stone house shared the
interest of the pow-wow.
Another time Renee told, with much amusement, how she had insisted upon
raising the shade at the bedroom window so that Mrs. Forrester might see
how spring-like the sun made everything look and how the old lady had
promptly hopped out of bed and had pulled it down with such a snap that
it fell to the floor!
"But she just _had_ to go back to bed and leave it there and I went on
reading's though nothing had happened and I know she really loved the
sunshine because she lay there as quiet as could be, staring at the
window!"
But one afternoon Renee returned, deeply excited, with a secret that she
kept for Pat's ears and the seclusion of the Eyrie.
"I was reading something awfully stupid for I thought she might go to
sleep and I know she wasn't listening at all, and finally I heard her
say, "If I could find my baby--I'd be ready to die!" Now I wasn't
reading a _thing_ about dying or a baby and she frightened me
dreadfully! I suppose she had forgotten I was there. Then when I went
on reading she said it again--real plain! Now, Pat, isn't that
exciting? Where _do_ you suppose her baby is and _how'd_ she ever lose
it?"
None of Pat's experiences could equal this for mystery! Pat stared at
Renee and Renee stared back; in the quiet of the Eyrie they thought up
all sorts of explanations and stories--tragic, all of them! Pat fairly
shivered with delight.
"Aren't you _lucky_, Renee--to have such a spliffy mystery! It's just
_spooky_! I'm going to write a story about that! You get her to talk
more--read a lot about babies and listen hard! And talk to that old
Crosspatch, maybe she'll tell you something. That's the way they always
do in detective stories. Something dreadful _must_ have happened to make
her live like that, in that ugly old house! Oh, rapture, I _know_ I'm
going to be famous! This goes way ahead of Aunt Pen's story! Of
course," she added, hastily, "I don't know _all_ Aunt Pen's secret
sorrow yet and she doesn't stay in bed and act queer! I think I'll call
this "The Lost Baby!"
So that evening, armed with several newly-sharpened pencils and much of
Daddy's writing paper, Pat began her first chapter. However, its
progress met with a serious setback when Aunt Pen laid in her hands a
letter from Angeline Snow. Pat opened it eagerly; she had not heard
from any of her old schoolmates at Miss Prindle's for a long time.
She read it quickly. Miss Angeline, in a few breezy sentences, informed
Pat that she would come immediately to make her a visit!
"... You were _such_ a dear to ask me (Pat read that twice,
thoughtfully)--and the doctor says I need a teeny rest. Mama is in
California and of course I cannot go to her! But we'll have a perfectly
sweet time together and I'm just dying to see you again. We've missed
you dreadfully here! I have _bushels_ to tell you--just you. (About the
girls and things--you'll _die_ when you hear it all!) I'll come on the
Empire on Thursday, so please meet me. I have a stunning new hat, henna
and turquoise blue and a feather you'll want to _eat_. Bye-bye, your
Angeline."
So intent was Pat upon examining the gold crest on the paper that she
did not see the curious look that flashed over Aunt Pen's face.
"Good gracious," she exclaimed, suddenly, "that's to-morrow!"
"Yes," Aunt Pen answered quietly, "and we must do everything we can to
make her visit pleasant!"
*CHAPTER XVII*
*ANGELINE*
At a first glimpse, from the crown of her glossy black head to the
patent tip of her smart little shoe, Angeline Snow, arriving the day
following, was like a stranger to Pat!
Pat had left her at the close of that last term of school, after parting
embraces and repeated pledges of undying friendship, a girl, long of leg
and short of skirt like herself; now she beheld a fascinating young
creature whose slim body was robed in a dress of the most stylish fabric
and cut, its clinging skirts reaching quite to the tops of the little
patent leather shoes, and the hair that Pat had always loved to braid
and unbraid was pinned in curious puffs and waves close to the small
head.
However, in the transformation, Angeline had lost none of the
fascination that had made of Pat, in the old days at Miss Prindle's, a
sort of adoring slave. She was amazingly pretty, her black hair made
her white skin dazzling, the faintest of rose-pink flushed her cheeks
and the tip of her pointed chin; her eyes set deep under long black
lashes were as blue as a June sky; her mouth alone marred the perfection
of her face--when the lips were not twisted into an affected smile,
acquired after faithful study before the mirror, they glaringly betrayed
the girl's little weaknesses.
There might well be some doubt in anyone's mind as to why a doctor had
prescribed a rest for the young lady! From the moment when, clasping
her Pekinese under her arm and followed by a porter with two huge shiny
leather suitcases she stepped down from the train, she fairly bubbled
with spirits!
Quickly Pat fell under the old charm! Because Renee had developed a
light attack of influenza which confined her to her bed and kept Aunt
Pen in close attendance, lessons were suspended and the two girls were
left very much to themselves. At Aunt Pen's suggestion Pat moved into
Celia's room, which adjoined the room assigned to Angeline. A door
opened from one to another and every night and morning Pat crept in
under Angeline's covers for a little while and listened breathlessly
while Angeline told the "secrets" of the school. Almost always there
was a box of chocolates under Angeline's pillow so that at regular
intervals the stories were interrupted while the two girls munched on
the candies.
"The very most exciting thing of all--and don't you _dare_ breathe it to
a soul"--and Angeline sat bolt upright and clasped her arms about her
knees--"is the _awful_ scrape that Jule Kale and I got into and that's
_really_ why I'm here!"
Jule Kale had been a Junior when Pat had been at Miss Prindle's. Pat
remembered her as a daring young lady whose adventures had more than
once thrilled her and the other girls in the school.