“No Ice Carnival, girls,” mourned Betty. “Of course we’ll not have any
with just those infants at Grant Academy this year.”
“All the more time for other things, then,” said Eloise. “It will be
warm before we know it. I have so many things to do, that if I stopped
to count them up I would have to leave school in self defense! There is
doing our ‘bit’ with the knitting and everything right along, of course,
and I want to have time for canoeing and the other athletics this
spring. Hilary, I am going to have as long a bird list as you, or perish
in the attempt! Isabel, our canoe is going to beat in the senior-junior
race.”
“Is it?” inquired Isabel in a tone which implied doubt. “Try it.”
Isabel was taking a butterfly pin out of a tiny box. She was the
secretary and treasurer of the Psyche Club, and had ordered this pin for
Betty, who had lost hers several months before. Not a whole year, her
senior year, could she do without her butterfly pin, which stood for so
much of Greycliff happiness and delightful friendship.
“How did Betty happen to lose her pin?” asked Eloise. “I wonder where it
could be.”
“That is what Betty wonders. She doesn’t even know when it was lost,
because, you know we keep our pins pinned on something for days at
times. She thought that she took it off a wool frock to pin on a silk
one, but she has hunted her dresses over, besides bureau drawers and
every crack about the suite.”
It seemed that Greycliff days had wings. The girls complained that
teachers in every course demanded more and more. “Patty thinks that we
are taking nothing but her Latin and English,” remarked Cathalina, “and
Dr. Carver is going to have us cover more ground this year in what is
college Sophomore Latin than any class ever did. She _said_ so! But she
actually complimented the class on doing it, can you imagine it,
Isabel?”
“I can not. I should pass into unconsciousness if I heard anything of
the sort from her. But I am sorry for her. She had an awful time at
first because she studied in Germany and couldn’t believe that they
started things, and then she was more than half in love with Prof.
Schaefer they say, and mad because the girls didn’t sign up for German,
but after a talk with Miss Randolph she came around and there has been a
distinct coolness between her and Prof. Schaefer of late.”
“Really, Isabel?” asked Hilary. “Cathalina and I once thought that it
would be a match.”
“Once Miss Randolph told me a little about her life, girls,” said
Cathalina, “and she has had a pretty hard experience, Miss Randolph
said. It did not make me think any more of her methods, but has helped
me to stand it. And she certainly does know what she is talking about.
There are lots of different people in this world, aren’t there? I don’t
suppose I would have known it if I hadn’t come to Greycliff, but it will
make me interested in people outside the family circle now.”
“To go back to our work,” said Hilary, “our music director says that
there never has been such a concert as he expects to have the girls give
this Commencement, when all the parents and everybody can be here. The
practice is taking a good deal of time, but it is such fun! There is the
Glee Club and the double quartette and the orchestra—all practicing the
most beautiful things! Lil is to sing as her second number one of her
own songs, and Phil is writing the accompaniment for her now, in between
times at camp. Aunt Hilary is coming this time to see her little
namesake perform!”
“O, I heard a red-winged blackbird today, girls,” said Juliet, “down by
the river near that place where the cattails grow. They will be nesting
there.”
“That is fine,” said Hilary. “I must go down there; I haven’t one on my
list yet. I was just thinking of how wonderful it all is this morning
when I first woke up. I heard a bluebird and a robin singing, and I
began to think about all the wings starting North on the spring
migration. The Bible says something about the land of the ‘rustling of
wings’ and that is what is happening now. Can’t you imagine how it is,
some warm night when the wood warblers are flying, tiny little things
with their _weeny_ wings, and then the big birds, like the water birds.
Then—presto—the sun comes up and lights up all the bright colors, the
scarlet tanager and the rose-breasted grosbeak, the indigo bunting and
the bluebird, the orange and black of the Blackburnian warbler, the
cardinal,—come on, I’m going to get my glass and go down to the beach!”
“All right, Hilary, but remember that your flight of imagination looked
forward into May. Don’t expect to find a rose-breasted grosbeak this
afternoon.”
“No. Isabel, my imagination is subject to a little common sense. Where’s
my note book, Lilian?”
“I put it with mine, right on the book-shelf by our geology notes. If
you will wait a few minutes till I get this letter to Phil finished, I
will come too.”
“If it is not too long,” replied Hilary, “but I know what happens when
you strike a new vein of thought and remember some more things to tell
him. Isabel, you might tell Virgie that we are going out to see what we
can see. Perhaps she will want to go, too.”
The work of the field classes began a little later than usual that
spring. Hilary, because her work and interest in this line had been a
little more persistent than that of any others, was put in charge of one
bird section. The classes went out in small groups, from the very nature
of the study, for few birds would be seen by any large company, except
at a distance. Cathalina’s generosity had long since supplied the “bird
library” with the finest reference books and some strong field glasses
and binoculars. A number of the girls had their own glasses, ranging in
power from that of an opera glass to the strong lenses of various sorts.
Outside of Lakeview Suite, probably the most enthusiastic bird “hunters”
were Eloise and Isabel, and in friendly fashion, whenever any one saw a
new bird for the season, word was passed around. Isabel dubbed her
particular section “The Stealthy Prowlers.”
By the time the girls were ready to go to the beach, the party numbered
six, Hilary and Eloise in the lead, Betty and Cathalina strolling along
together, Isabel conducting an investigation by herself, and Lilian
running down the hill last.
“It is almost too windy to see anything today,” said Isabel, looking at
the scudding grey clouds above tossing waters.
“Let’s start up along the river. The little birds will hide away from
the wind and the banks there along under the woods ought to have a
number of good ‘finds.’ We ought to see some sandpipers there if nothing
else. How chilly those gulls look. Some day we’ll row out to the
breakwater and take down the different varieties we always see there
every spring.”
“The Island is better, if you are willing to wait until the first
picnic.”
Betty was looking off to see if by any chance the same government boat
which had brought Donald before might appear upon the horizon. So
suddenly had he come before, that she was prepared for anything. But no
smoke from passing steamer could be seen in any direction.
“Poor old Betty,” said Eloise, with a little smile. “‘He cometh not, she
said, I’m a-weary, a-weary,’—_Tennyson!_”
“My bonny is over the ocean,” began Lilian, then with a sober look
added, “They’ll all be over soon enough!”
Betty did not mind the teasing, but blew a kiss in fun out to the waves,
and turned with the rest where the little river joined the lake. They
picked their way along over wet sand and mud in places, as at times they
were forced to ascend the bank.
“Here’s where the doughty Cathalina and Hilary rescued the sinking
Isabel,” said Eloise, as they passed the famous spot. “More than once
have I had it pointed out to me. In after years, when Isabel is famous
for,—what are you going to be famous for, Isabel?”
“Debating in Congress,” replied Isabel without hesitation.
“All right,—in after years when the famous Senator Isabel Hunt startles
the country with her eloquence, Greycliff will put a tablet here,——”
“And on it will be written,” continued Betty in grandiloquent style,
“‘Saved for Greycliff and her country’!”
“Sh-sh!” whispered Isabel. “I saw something fly up stream, and I heard a
spotted sandpiper call.”
The girls stopped to listen. The lyre-like notes of a red-winged
blackbird came first to their ears, then a meadow lark sang from the
fields behind Greycliff. A few grackles flew down to the river’s edge
and walked in dignified fashion near the shallows.
“O, look!” exclaimed Cathalina, pointing to a little hollow ahead of
them. “We shall find some anemones and bloodroot there I’m sure. Don’t
you remember last year they were there, and just beyond is that lovely
violet patch, if they are out yet.”
“Wait a minute, Cathalina,” said Hilary in a low tone, “what is that
scratching away in those leaves? Could it be the ground robins?”
The glasses were all focused upon the little hollow before them,
Hilary’s face growing brighter as she watched. She and Eloise turned to
each other and in one breath whispered “Fox sparrows!”
“I’m so glad,” whispered Lilian. “I missed seeing them last year, for
some reason. Look, there is a flock of them.” Several more of the pretty
brown sparrows flew from across the river and joined those which the
girls were watching.
“Can’t he scratch for a living, though?” remarked Isabel pointing to one
that was making the leaves fly. “See him fly around with that reddish
tail. What’s that little chap over there?—Oh, a junco. You are very
pretty, sir, but I’ve got you on my list already and I am seeking other
prey! However, I like your pink bill and your black hood and mantle.”
Just at that point, Betty lost her footing and stepped sidewise into a
pool of water, exclaiming a little over her wet feet. With a little
whir, the fox sparrows, and a small flock of juncos which had been
hidden from sight, rose from the old leaves and fresh green of the new
plants to fly away. But from across the stream there came a clear little
carol which was some fox sparrow’s “goodbye,” so Cathalina said.
“I had no idea that there were so many juncos there,” said Lilian. “I
was watching the fox sparrows when all at once those whisking white tail
feathers came into view.”
“It’s the vesper sparrow that has those white feathers on the sides of
the tail, too,—isn’t it, Hilary?” asked Betty.
“Yes, and other birds, too, but it is easy at a quick glance to identify
these little birds that way, as they fly.”
“You’d better get back to the Hall, Betty,” said Cathalina. “We don’t
want any cases of tonsillitis in Lakeview Suite. Come on, want a hand
up?”
“No, thanks, Cathie, I’m still able to climb up a hillside.”
The girls scrambled up the hillside that led to the wood, while as they
did so, Lilian called their attention to the sound of an airplane
humming above them. “Another kind of a bird,” said she, “a humming
bird.”
“More like a night hawk,” said Isabel, “circling around up there.
Somebody is practicing. Perhaps it is the hydroplane.”
“Oh, no. That is a regular plane,—see?”
Out over the lake, back over the fields behind Greycliff, out of sight
up river, behind the woods, appearing again and coming toward them, then
turning away in the direction of “White Wings,” the plane finally
disappeared entirely from view.
“I suppose it is from one of the aviation fields,” said Lilian. “I
haven’t gotten used to them yet. I’m so glad that Phil isn’t in the
aviation. It’s just as dangerous practicing as it is in battle.”
“Oh, no, not quite,” said Isabel. “There are a few more chances to fall
under fire. There’s where I’d be if I were a soldier, sailing over the
clouds,” and Isabel’s hand made all sorts of gyrations in illustration.
The girls became rather more sober in the thoughts of their brothers and
friends that came to them with the suggestions of aviation and the
camps. They hurried toward and into the Hall, Betty to change her shoes,
and the other girls to hunt up the evening papers with the latest news
from the front. Mail, also, was delivered, and Lilian received a long
package from the camp where Philip was located.
“It’s the music manuscript, Hilary; let’s go into the society hall and
try it over before dinner. I am crazy to see what sort of an
accompaniment Phil has written. O, dear! If I could only hear him play
it!—his beautiful hands and voice,—sometimes, Hilary, I think I can’t
stand having him go to France and maybe——”
“Don’t say it, Lilian,” said Hilary, with a tender and understanding
look. “We have to meet it. Someway I think our boys will come back.”
Lilian looked at Hilary’s sweet, strong face and felt comforted by her
friend’s faith.