OTHER EXPERIENCES
During the past week Tory and Dorothy had been making happy
preparations for the arrival of Mr. Winslow at the evergreen cabin.
They had secured the consent of the other girls without difficulty. In
the meantime several of the Girl Scouts had been puzzled by the effort
to keep the Scout pledge made to one another at their final meeting.
Of necessity, in the village there must be a number of persons who
were ill and would like to be cared for, provided the attentions were
tactfully offered. How to discover the persons specially in need of
sympathy and aid was not so simple an undertaking. Most ill persons
had their own families and friends. Outside attention was scarcely
necessary.
One afternoon, under the impression that she had not fulfilled her own
duty in the matter, Margaret Hale decided that she would make a call
upon Edith Linder and ask her advice. Edith lived in a poorer quarter
of Westhaven among the foreign element, many of whom worked in the
factories. To her own embarrassment, Margaret appreciated that she
had never been to call upon Edith before. In the days when Edith had
spent the winter at Memory Frean’s cottage she had gone frequently to
inquire for her. Indeed, she had been one of her advocates when Tory
Drew insisted that Edith was not the type of girl to make a successful
eighth member of their Patrol. Later Tory had completely changed her
viewpoint. Nevertheless, Margaret realized that since her return to
live with her own family, she had relied upon seeing Edith at their
regular Scout meetings and had made no effort to see her at her own
home.
This had not been deliberate. Margaret was too well-bred herself to
consider the social inferiority of a girl whom she liked as a personal
friend, and was a member of her Girl Scout Patrol. The truth was that
she had not thought of their possessing any special interests in common
outside their Scout work until this afternoon. Now it occurred to her
that Edith might put her in touch with persons who really were more in
need of help than her own acquaintances.
She would stop and ask Louise Miller to accompany her. Rarely did she
call upon Louise! They had a special regard for each other, but with
her school work, her Scout work, music lessons, reading and the desire
to be with her own family whenever it was possible, Margaret could
reasonably plead the excuse of not having time for visiting. Moreover,
Louise was nearly always with Dorothy McClain when she had the leisure.
At present Dorothy and Tory Drew seemed more often in one another’s
society, so it occurred to Margaret that Louise might not only be more
free, but glad to be reminded of the affection and admiration she felt
for her.
It was true that Margaret Hale possessed a deep regard and appreciation
of Louise, in spite of the other girl’s clumsiness and lack of social
gifts in contrast to her own graceful manner and appearance.
Margaret knew that their circumstances had been altogether different.
Her own father was wealthy and prominent and devoted to his family, her
mother cultivated and charming. They both had done everything in their
power to make their home atmosphere beautiful and serene. Margaret
never remembered anything but sympathy and affection and understanding
surrounding herself and her two younger sisters. They had everything
they could possibly wish, money, position; put into concrete terms,
they owned a lovely home, not one but two motor cars, the services of
three or four maids, a gardener and a chauffeur.
Yet no one could be less spoiled than Margaret or more unselfish; a
part of this was her own nature, another part her mother’s thoughtful
training.
Personally Margaret felt humble in the depth of her sincere and
beautiful nature. Her possessions she realized were not herself nor
due to her own accomplishments. Individually she believed herself less
clever and less gifted than most of the girls in her own Patrol.
Louise Miller possessed none of her material and spiritual advantages.
She was poor and not congenial with her own family, yet Margaret
believed had a stronger nature and rarer talents than she expected to
possess.
This afternoon the small space in front of Louise’s home looked
especially barren and ugly. Two small boys were fighting. They stopped
at Margaret’s approach, more interested in her than in battle.
After ringing the front door bell Margaret thought she heard a
querulous voice in the hall, fretfully scolding some one. She could
not be sure who it was until Mrs. Miller herself opened the front door,
appearing tired and dispirited.
At the sight of the visitor her face brightened. She asked her in the
parlor without mentioning her arrival to Louise.
Margaret was annoyed. She had not come to call upon Mrs. Miller and was
not interested in what she was saying, although she thought her pretty
in a faded fashion.
When Louise’s strong, almost ugly face appeared at the open door,
Margaret thought her handsomer than her mother, so important was her
undoubted strength of character.
As a matter of principle Mrs. Miller always objected to Louise’s going
away from home in search of amusement. This afternoon on Margaret’s
account she did not protest seriously. She preferred Margaret to
Dorothy McClain as Louise’s friend, for one reason because Louise
was not so absorbed in Margaret. Another, because Mr. Hale possessed
greater wealth than Dr. McClain.
Slowly Margaret and Louise walked on toward an entirely different
quarter of the village. Louise confessed that she had been so busy at
home during the past week that she had no time for outside work. The
younger children had been suffering from colds and been difficult. She
had been trying to keep them amused to spare her mother as much as
possible.
Apparently Louise did not consider that she had thus accomplished her
Scout duty. Margaret insisted upon it, and tried to induce Louise to
appreciate the fact.
By and by the girls talked no more of themselves or of their Scouting
in their interest in the unfamiliar surroundings.
Most of the cottages in the factory district were new and clean. Near
the large factory buildings the dilapidated tenement houses looked gray
and battered.
The girls knew Edith’s street and house number and were glad to
discover that her home was one of the new cottages.
The yard was larger and more attractive than Louise’s.
In the small space a garden half of vegetables, half flowers,
flourished in the summer time; now with the winter the yard revealed
only a few hardy shrubs and several small fruit trees with bare, thin
branches.
Edith herself was responsible for the garden. Until her family moved
into Westhaven she had lived upon a small farm where her father had
not been successful. Edith still believed she preferred the country to
the village, except that the village gave her the chance to be a member
of the Eagle’s Wing Troop of Girl Scouts.
Instead of going indoors the girls continued their walk. They were
frank in explaining to Edith that they wished to investigate the
neighborhood and to ask the benefit of her opinion.
Westhaven was only a small village, yet Margaret and Louise were
astonished at their ignorance of the factory neighborhood.
In the winter afternoon the smoke of the huge chimneys ascended in
long, dark columns; there was little wind blowing, but a sultriness
that might mean a storm later on.
Edith had been prompt in her reply to the other girls’ question.
Not far off was a school a dozen yards from one of the largest
factories in the village. Among the children there were always some who
needed aid.
Now that the girls of her Patrol had learned to understand Edith Linder
they had made this discovery: What had appeared to be sullenness and
lack of appreciation of friendliness was shyness. She had never known
any girls intimately until her arrival in Westhaven. The little farm
where she had spent her childhood had been some distance from any other
and she some years older than her own brothers and sisters. During
the summer in Beechwood Forest the other Girl Scouts had learned that
Edith’s gifts were practical. She was strong and capable, although
lacking certain refinements she never had the chance to acquire until
her contact with her Patrol of Girl Scouts. She learned from them, and
equally they would be able to learn from her.
Following Edith’s suggestion, Margaret Hale stopped and called Joan
Peters and Martha Greaves, the English Girl Guide, on the telephone.
They would be interested in their expedition. Tory and Dorothy she knew
to be busy elsewhere. The fact of Dorothy’s departure to New York she
had not heard.
“She and Martha were just starting out for a walk,” Joan reported, “and
would be with them in a few moments.”
The little group walked on in a more leisurely fashion, waiting for
their companions, whom they were to meet on an appointed corner.
It was now about three o’clock in the afternoon of a day that was to be
long remembered in Westhaven.
The streets were comparatively empty. At this hour the employees in the
factories were particularly absorbed by their work, with lunch over and
the afternoon still in its early hours.
The three Girl Scouts were able to walk abreast without troubling any
one, moving aside if it became necessary.
Near a shirt factory not far from the corner where the friends had
agreed to meet, Edith Linder paused.
“In there my mother and father are at work,” she explained. “I may have
to work there some day myself, but I shall never like it. I only care
for a farm and outdoor occupations.”
“Well, then, marry a farmer, Edith,” Margaret Hale said laughingly.
“Perhaps I will if I have a chance,” Edith answered.
Louise looked more serious.
“Suppose we live together, Edith! You and I who love the outdoors in
such different fashion. Yours is certainly the sensible one. I have
such a grubby attitude, wanting only to poke around and study the
trees and soil, never to make things grow.
“Why is the smoke coming out of that side wall of the factory? Do you
suppose trash is being burned over there?”
Idly Louise spoke, with no special interest in her voice and a little
surprised by her own discovery. Ordinarily she was not as observant as
she should be.
The other girl’s hand closed on her arm until the tightness of her hold
was uncomfortable.
“What is it, Edith?” Margaret Hale asked anxiously. She had not
listened to the conversation for the last few seconds.
There was no immediate reply, but the tension in Edith Linder’s face
and figure was plain to her companions.
“It is nothing, I suppose, I was a little afraid of a fire,” Edith
returned. “I think one often is in a factory neighborhood. I suppose I
am more fearful because I have lived in the country.”
Undoubtedly the smoke was increasing, yet neither Louise nor Margaret
was alarmed. Gusts of smoke frequently appear in unexpected places
to an outsider’s eyes and usually can be traced to a natural source.
Inside the factory the occupants must be aware of what was taking
place. The wind was now blowing in occasional gusts and probably
forcing the smoke in varying directions.
The two girls started to move on past the factory building.
Edith held them back.
“Not for a moment, please, not until I can be sure. Will you wait here?
I think I had best go to the front door and inquire what is the matter.
You see, I know the manager and it will be all right.”
This time Edith was walking on alone, when Louise called out sharply:
“Edith, there _is_ a fire! Don’t go nearer.”
That instant a flame had leaped upward, showing scarlet against the
window.
Margaret and Louise heard a curious commingling of sounds they
were never to forget. Edith had broken away and was running with
outstretched arms and lowered head toward the narrow door opening into
the factory office.
Came the noise of an explosion, then muffled cries from within the
building, growing in volume, and echoed by the inhabitants of the
nearby cottages and tenements.
A bell pealed somewhere. Several men rushed by on the way to give the
alarm.
Too stunned to be of service for the moment, Margaret and Louise
crowded against a friendly fence.
Why were the men and women, the girls and boys inside the burning
building not already streaming out into the streets?
Out of the downstairs windows a few people were jumping and pushing
one another. From the front door a dozen women and men ran and then a
little distance off stood still, gazing upward and calling to friends
above the uproar.
Edith Linder did not reappear.
A half dozen policemen appeared. Louise and Margaret found themselves
thrust backward and not allowed beyond a certain line.
“What is the trouble? Why don’t they clear out?” the girls overheard
one man ask the other.
“Something pretty bad is the trouble! The fire has started below and
the stairs are choked with smoke. Too many people in there for the size
of the building. I have been afraid of something like this.”
Down the street came the welcome noise of the first fire engine.
“Is there anything we can do to be useful, officer?” Margaret Hale
asked.
She had regained her self-command and walked as close as possible to
the dividing line, followed by Louise Miller.
The girls were wearing their Scout uniforms and now appeared calm and
efficient.
“Yes, glad to have your help! See you are Scouts! In a few moments
the children, whose mothers and fathers are locked in there, will be
crowding the streets. Help to keep them back out of the danger line.”
Not a moment too soon had the order been given.
At this instant Margaret reached to clutch a little girl, pushing her
way past, wild with terror.
She fought and screamed while Margaret held her fast.
“Be quiet, your mother will be here in a few moments. If you don’t stay
with me, she will never know where to find you,” she found herself
whispering reassuringly. And something in her voice and manner made the
child obey.
The following moment she opened the gate of the fence against which she
and Louise had sheltered themselves and drew the little girl inside.
It chanced that in this particular place an old building, erected many
years ago and now used for storage, stood back from the sidewalk with a
yard protected by a picket fence.
The yard could be made a place of refuge for the children who would try
to press inside the fire lines. Margaret knew she must find some one to
assist her. She turned to look for Louise Miller and discovered that
Louise had a small boy by the shoulders and was pushing him before her
into the same retreat.
No great length of time could have passed when Margaret Hale and Louise
were being assisted by a dozen members of the Eagle’s Wing Troop.
Afterwards the two girls remembered they had felt no surprise. The
news of the burning of the factory had spread through the village and
naturally the girls had come to be of service.
This was their first important test. Never before had they been able to
assume any public responsibility in the village! Were they making good
in the same fashion that the Boy Scouts had upon many occasions?
The small yard became more and more crowded with frightened, crying
children. Occasionally a policeman thrust a lost child into the midst
of the others and went on his way.
The factory was not yet emptied of its workers. Numbers of excited men
and women went past; a few tried to linger and push their way in among
the children in search of their own, but were forced on.
By this time a high wind was blowing and the flames from the burning
frame building crackled and roared, throwing forth long pennants of
flame, as if a flag whipped in the wind were then drawn back.
Margaret Hale knew she must have overheard the explanation, that a door
leading to the flight of stairs on the top floor had been locked. A
hundred men and women were trapped; with the lower-floors in flames,
they were unable to escape.
The firemen were ascending ladders and drawing them forth one by one.
With so much to absorb energy and attention, Margaret and Louise Miller
never lost the memory of Edith Linder’s sudden disappearance inside the
factory door. Perhaps she had been able to give the alarm or assist in
the rescue. She was extraordinarily brave. The other Girl Scouts had
guessed this trait of character on several unimportant occasions during
their summer together in Beechwood Forest.
She could not have observed the little group of her companions when she
came past, as she must have left the building some time before. One of
the side walls had fallen in and the fire was diminishing.
The police were urging people to return to their homes. The worst was
now over, but a space must be kept clear.
Would the Girl Scouts help the children to find their parents?
The officer to whom Margaret had first offered her own and Louise’s aid
stopped to lift his hat to her.
“It is not to you only, Miss, I am taking off my hat. It is to the
whole of you Girl Scouts. Sure and you’ve done yourselves proud, and
the village!” he remarked, with a delightful Irish brogue, appearing
as self-possessed and good-natured as if he had not passed through the
ordeal of the last hour.
It was after dusk when Louise and Margaret made their way again to
Edith Linder’s. They were too weary to speak to each other and too
overstrained, yet could not go to their homes for the night without
news of Edith.
She came out to meet them, and Margaret Hale, usually so
self-contained, put her arms about her, dropping her head on her
shoulder.
“Edith, I have not had time to confess it even to myself, but I have
been so frightened about you! Why were you so reckless? Surely you
could do nothing to help!”
Edith made no reply to this question. Later the Girl Scouts were to
learn what she had accomplished.