A ROUND TABLE DISCUSSION
The table in the Fenton dining-room had been arranged to form a perfect
circle with the addition of several table leaves.
Above the table were the flags of the Eagle’s Wing Troop and the
American flag.
Stacked in a corner of the room were the banners made of silver cloth.
The arm chair was empty, but the eight others were occupied by the Girl
Scouts in their regulation uniforms.
Joan Peters, the new Patrol Leader, in the absence of the Captain, was
presiding.
She was a tall, slender girl with light-brown hair and eyes of almost
the same shade. Her features were regular and delicately cut. She
possessed a poise of manner and a seriousness unusual in so young a
person. Joan was an only child and her mother a semi-invalid. Her
father, an inventor, had made no practical success with any of his
inventions, so that Joan was forced through circumstances to become the
practical member of her family.
She was leaning forward now over the round table, her eyes traveling
slowly from one face to the other, faces that either returned her gaze
or revealed downcast eyes.
In the old room there was a momentary silence in spite of the presence
of so many girls.
“I agree with Tory. It is absolutely necessary that we do _something_
right away,” Joan remarked slowly.
Louise Miller appeared impatient.
“Yes, but what? I know it has been good for all our souls to confess
that we have fallen into the slough of despond. Assuredly we are
upon the downward grade! I don’t know how to express it! Having made
the confession, what is to happen next? I have realized ever since
Christmas that I was not living up to our Girl Scout principles, as I
tried so hard to in the beginning. At first we had the excitement of
organizing and of struggling to earn our first merit badges, of ceasing
to be mere tenderfeet. Then followed our wonderful summer in Beechwood
Forest! Never have I been so happy anywhere on earth! I am sure my
whole life will be influenced by it!
“When I came back home in the early fall I remember making the noblest
resolutions. I was going to work harder at school, not in the subjects
I care for most, but in those that have never interested me. I was
going to be more helpful at home. My family would scarcely believe that
I acquired a badge for cooking over a camp fire last summer. I intended
to forget that I am more thrilled by birds and insects and trees
and stones than by making beds and dusting the parlor and sewing on
buttons. In truth, I really gave such a good imitation of doing what I
should, that my family, who were not enthusiastic about the Girl Scouts
at first, were beginning to be impressed.
“Just before Christmas time I discovered myself slipping into my old
indifference and awkwardness.
“Mother declares I have become impossible now. So what shall I do? We
might take up each individual case one at a time. I am sure I am the
most hopeless of our Troop, so begin with me. I never have felt I had
the same right the rest of you have to membership.”
There was no mistaking the fact that Louise was deeply in earnest.
She possessed little self-esteem, scarcely a sufficient amount. Her
own lack of beauty and charm of manner, her slow, oftentimes clumsy
movements, her inability to speak or think quickly, had always given
her the consciousness that she was less attractive than other girls.
And unfortunately for Louise, her own mother in a measure agreed with
this opinion. She herself was pretty, graceful and fond of society.
One person had struggled to influence Louise’s unfortunate estimate of
herself, her closest friend, Dorothy McClain.
Having finished her speech, Louise was leaning over, resting her
head upon her hand, appearing more discouraged than the other girls
considered necessary under the circumstances.
Louise’s features were large, her complexion pallid; she had only two
claims to beauty, her curious light-gray eyes and copper-red hair.
Ordinarily she wore unsuitable clothes, so that she looked better in
her Scout uniform than in other costumes.
“Nonsense, Ouida, we are not going at things in any such spirit!”
Dorothy remarked with the good sense and directness that distinguished
her.
Teresa Peterson looked relieved.
She and Louise were not congenial; it was impossible they should be
with such totally different temperaments.
Teresa was exceptionally pretty and pleasure loving. She could see
nothing to admire in Louise’s appearance or in her serious disposition.
Her philosophy of life, although Teresa would never have appreciated
that she possessed a philosophy, and would have disliked the name, was
never to trouble so long as it was possible to enjoy oneself. She had
pretty, soft manners and was gentle and affectionate, save when any one
opposed a strong desire on her part.
If the Girl Scouts realized that Teresa was unlike the rest of them,
they perhaps expected less of her. Several of the older girls,
particularly Joan Peters, had a special affection for Teresa and a wish
to shelter her from criticism or difficulty.
“I cannot see why it is our fault that we have been bored and cross
since Christmas,” she now remarked plaintively. “How can we expect
anything else after the lovely times we had then, the dances and sleigh
rides and skating party and the queer Christmas Eve entertainment
at Miss Frean’s when we were made Knights of something or other and
recited all sorts of funny poetry?”
Perhaps the laughter following Teresa’s speech was better for the group
of Girl Scouts than Louise’s introspection.
“I don’t wonder you say ‘Knights of something or other’,” Tory added.
“When I saw Kara in New York she was not in the least enthusiastic
over our Knighthood. I quoted Mrs. Browning’s poem: ‘The world’s male
chivalry has vanished quite, but women are knight-errants to the
last.’ Kara thought the idea too fanciful, as she does most of my
cherished suggestions. I told her we simply wished to have an original
entertainment and to hold our indoor Scout meetings this winter about a
Round Table. Nevertheless, I do remember that I was chosen to represent
Sir Galahad, the Knight who went in quest of the Holy Grail. Because
his life was purer than any other of the Knights he was allowed to
behold the Grail.”
The speaker lowered her voice and her eyelids drooped over her dark
eyes, as if she were ashamed to go on with what she was struggling to
say.
“I might as well confess I have wondered what the Quest of the Holy
Grail may mean in one’s ordinary, everyday life? I suppose it is not so
unlike what we are told to do in our Girl Scout work, do good to others
and follow the best that is in each of us.”
The girl’s glance traveled from the flags above the round table to the
pile of banners in the far corner of the old room.
“Yes, Tory, what is it that you wish to tell us? You have something to
propose. Somehow we always expect you to inspire us when we need a new
incentive,” Margaret Hale said encouragingly.
Still the other girl hesitated.
“I don’t believe I ought to suggest anything. I had not an idea
to propose when we started our Round Table discussion. I was in
such a bad humor before you girls arrived, I though everybody and
everything responsible except me. Then Dorothy and I fell to talking
and discovered we were in the same state of mind, afterwards Louise,
and then one by one each member of our Patrol. It was funny! Still, I
cannot help being sorry. Not one of our knightly banners is emblazoned
with any sign of a service we have rendered to any human being since
Christmas. Worse, I for one am failing always to do the daily good turn
I promised in our Girl Scout pledge.”
“Go on, Tory, we have agreed we are in the same state of mind and have
been making the same mistakes,” Edith Linder protested.
The other girl nodded.
“Very well. Please remember that whether you agree with me or not, for
once in my life I intend to be simple and practical in my suggestion.
And I want you to write and tell Kara.
“As we have been sitting here this afternoon the same idea has
occurred to each one of us. Our trouble is that we have been thinking
of ourselves. The only cure is to think of some one else. I have not
Kara any longer to care for and that makes a big difference with me.
But there must be some one else in Westhaven. So I propose that this
week each one of us finds some one who is ill and needing help of some
character. It does not matter whether the person is a member of our
own family or a stranger, rich or poor, young or old, we must manage
to make them more comfortable. Then at our next Scout meeting we can
report to one another. Don’t you think this may be worth while? I am
not pretending to be very original this afternoon.”
“It is not important _always_ to be original, Tory,” Margaret Hale
declared, in a voice and manner that always influenced her companions.
“I propose that we vote on your suggestion. It might be more inspiring
if we try to find people who are especially in need of help. If they
are willing, we could tell of what they have suffered. This might prove
as interesting and exciting as reading thrilling stories.”
In the vote that followed no voice dissented.
Only Teresa sighed and exclaimed:
“I believe I shall choose Miss Mason! She is our Scout Captain and
sent word to Tory that she was too ill to be with us this afternoon.
Of course she only has a bad cold, but she may grow worse. Besides, I
dearly love going to her house and sitting in her pretty room. I wish
I were grown and our house not so filled with ugly things. Living in
Miss Mason’s room, curled up on her blue couch with the yellow and blue
cushions, would give me a lovely disposition,” Teresa concluded.
Tory shook her head.
“Good gracious, Teresa dear, I am afraid if our Troop Captain continues
ill she will suffer from too much attention! I don’t think you really
have grasped our idea. But for goodness’ sake let us stop being so
serious! If we are through with our Scout meeting, suppose you come and
help me bring in tea, Teresa.”