CHAPTER III--GIRL PIONEERS
"Oh, I wish you would tell me something about your school life in NewYork," begged Helen wistfully; "I had a friend who used to go to one ofthe high schools. I hear they are very fine."
It was Thursday, the day the Girl Pioneers were to call on Nathalie, andHelen Dame had run over a few moments before their arrival to have ashort chat with her new friend.
"Oh--I," Nathalie hesitated with rising color, "I did not go to highschool. Yes, I know they are very fine, but I attended a private schoolkept by Madame Chemidlin."
An "oh!" escaped Helen involuntarily, as her eyes gloomed a little, buther companion plunged recklessly on.
"It is considered one of the finest schools in the city, because, well,for one thing, Madame is adorable, her father was one of the nobility, apolitical refugee from France, and then because the girls who attendcome from the best families in New York. They were just dears--" with asigh of regret--"Nellie Blinton, she was my chummiest chum, she's the oneI told you Miss Tyson reminded me of, she has the same kind of a face asNell, with big, dark eyes and the same gentle, ladylike way about herthat my friend has.
"Then there was Puss Davidson, she's awfully clever. She writes stories,and last year won a gold medal from St. Nicholas. She was Valedictorianof our class last Spring. You know I graduated then, but took apost-graduate course last winter and expected to enter college thisfall, but now, of course, things are different." She spoke a littlesadly.
Helen could not help feeling somewhat disappointed as she heard aboutthese rich schoolmates of Nathalie's; she had taken a great liking tothis girl with the daintily colored face with its rounding curves,lighted by eyes that held you captive with their frank, direct gaze.Although bright and clever-looking, this Girl Pioneer possessed no claimto beauty, for, as she ruefully commented at times, she had a nose witha knob on it. For that reason, perhaps, being free from that enviousnessthat characterizes so many girls, she was a beauty-lover. Too often shehad made friends with girls just because they appealed to her love forthe beautiful, only to realize when it was too late that good looks donot always mean pleasing traits of character. In fact, Helen wassomewhat tired of being disappointed, and had vowed to her mother thatshe was never again going to care for a pretty girl. She was not surethat Nathalie was a real beauty, but surely, with her lovely brown eyesand the gracious little way she had, not at all self-conscious, but justreal "self," she was in a fair way to become very popular with thegirls.
Her eyes clouded momentarily and something caused an unpleasant jar. No,she was not jealous of Nathalie, for she was willing to have her knowand be liked by the other girls, but as she had been the first one toknow her, she wanted to be her special friend. But then if she hadalways had so many high-toned schoolmates, perhaps she would not care tobe a friend to a girl who was learning to be a wage-earner. Helen hadalways felt proud to think that some day she could be ranked among thatclass of highly regarded women, but would Nathalie think as she did?
There was something so straightforward, however, so honest, aboutNathalie as she went on and told of her studies, her friends, and a fewof the incidents in her school life in the big city, that Helen forgother fears, and was compelled to believe that she would be doing her aninjustice in fearing that she would choose her companions for what theyhad and not for what they were.
"Oh, here they come!" cried Nathalie at this moment as she caught aglimpse of a group of girls in brown uniforms coming down the street.She half rose from her chair and with sparkling eyes watched them asthey came, a dozen or more, perhaps, up the steps of the veranda. Inanother second her eyes grew big as she saw each girl's hand placedquickly over her heart, then up to her forehead, and lastly held withopen palm at a level with the right shoulder. It was the Girl Pioneers'salute to their leader, for Helen with a sudden straightening of theshoulders had responded to the greeting with a similar movement.
Nathalie had already stepped forward, leaning on Dick's crutch,--he hadbeen relegated to the couch in the hall,--and was crying, as her colorcame and went in pink flushes, "Oh, I am so glad to see you!" extendingher hand to the foremost girl, Grace Tyson. "I think it's just lovelyfor you all to come to see me!" nodding towards the rest of the group,with eyes that attested the cordiality of her welcome. She stoppedabruptly, for the girls had broken forth into
"Hear! hear! hear! Girl Pioneer! Come, give a cheer, G-i-r-l Pi-o-neer!"
"And a cheer for our hostess!" added Grace Tyson, lifting up her hand asshe faced her companions. Before Nathalie could catch her breath therecame another ringing cheer as each girl with smiling eyes shouted,
"Hear! hear! a cheer for Nathalie dear! Girl Pi-o-neer! Girl Pi-o-neer!"
If Nathalie's color had been going and coming, it now flooded her faceas she laughingly held out her hand to each one in turn, giving a softlittle squeeze that made each girl vote her a comrade.
Grace and Helen now led Nathalie back to her chair, somewhat solicitousas to the sprained foot; but she laughingly assured them that she wasall right. Then with animated eyes she bowed and smiled as Helen, whowas spokesman for the group, began to introduce each one of the Pioneersin turn, in an offhand, half quizzing way that relieved the formality ofthe ceremony.
"This is Miss Jessie Ford, our literary scribe and Editor-in-chief of'The Pioneer,' a penny newspaper issued monthly, devoted to the news anddoings of the Girl Pioneers."
Jessie, a wholesome-looking girl with golden hair worn in a coronetbraid, and with bright, keen eyes, shook hands pleasantly, half smilingat the words of their leader. "Yes, she is clever, our Jess, andprogressive, too," went on Helen, her eyes twinkling, "which means a lotin these times." There was the suspicion of laughter in her tone.
"That she's progressive can't be denied," interposed Grace Tysonlaughingly, "for when we had a Pioneer party a short time ago, Jesswasn't going to be outdone by any newspaper reporter and wrote adetailed description of each girl's costume and sent it to the 'TownJournal.' The paper appeared the afternoon of the 'come-off,' one of thegirls saw the article, and suggested as a joke that we all changecostumes. O dear, what a laugh we had on Jess!"
Miss Jessie, however, only smiled at all of this chaffing, as if proudof this proof of her alertness and stepped to one side.
"And this bluebird--oh, Miss Page did I tell you that each Pioneer groupis named after a bird, and that ours is the Bluebird Group?" Helen hadforgotten her teasing tone in her eagerness to impart this information.
"What a pretty idea," responded Nathalie, "and bluebird, the name ofyour group!" thinking of the nest of bluebirds she had found down in theold cedar.
Helen nodded with pleasure and then said, "This is Miss Kitty Corwin; wecall her our pot-boiler--that means that Kitty always manages to keep thepot boiling not only by holding up her end of the line, but all theother ends, too, when the derelict Girl Pioneers forget to do so."
"And you might say she always carries all the pots and pans, too, whenthere's a hike," interposed the newcomer, with a nervous laugh. She wasan awkward-looking girl about fourteen, all arms and elbows, but with arather winsome face lighted by big, serious eyes. There was such nervousactivity about her grip as she yanked Nathalie's hand like a pump-handlethat that young lady had no doubts as to her surplus energy. As Kittytried to make her escape there was a suppressed howl, and then atwitter, for alas, she had backed into one of her companions with suchforce that the victim almost lost her balance.
The girls, each one smiling, but with a palpitating heart as if doubtfulwhat Helen would say when her turn came, all looked up expectantly as atall girl, somewhat older than the others, but with a certain dash abouther that added to her charm, came forward. She moved with willowy graceand had an ease of manner that accentuated the Pot-Boiler's embarrassedmovements.
"Miss Page, allow me to introduce you to Miss Lillie Bell." There was acertain emphasis in Helen's tone as she presented this pretty,attractive girl, that indicated her pride in one of the most populargirls bel
onging to the group.
Miss Bell smiled in a self-assured manner as Helen introduced her, andthen greeted Nathalie with sweet graciousness as she waited expectantlyfor her characterization to be given.
"Lillie is our story-teller," continued Helen with a gleam of mischiefin her eyes, "a would-be thriller, for we all shiver with the creepswhen she begins her yellow-journal romances. Her specialty is ghosttales, the kind that, as we sit in the dark around our cheer fire, itsglare (blood-red, please note), casting weird shadows over our pallidfaces--" Helen intoned in tragic burlesque, and then stopped with alaugh.
Lillie Bell, however, did not appear at all annoyed at this banter, butreturned coolly, "I hope Miss Page, you will not believe all Helen says,for she dotes on teasing, but we get even with her when the chancecomes." From a certain gleam in the smiling gray eyes Nathalie did notdoubt her, but as her voice was musical, and her manner impressive,bordering on the dramatic, she wished she could hear one of herthrillers.
"Observe," tantalized the spokesman as Lillie disappeared and her placewas taken by a young girl who looked as if she was all blood and muscle,with ruddy cheeks, alert eyes, and the poise and bearing of one who wasa frequenter of the gym.
As Helen said, "This is Miss Edith Whiton," she made an old-time curtsy,"generally dubbed the Sport, as she is the champion knee-doubler,arm-stretcher, toe-raiser, and all the rest of the ball-and-socketteam."
With attempted nonchalance Edith twisted her shoulders and flashed Helena quick glance as much as to say, "Wait, my turn is coming later!" Shethen stepped forward and shook Nathalie's hand, smiling pleasantly downat her with frank friendliness.
As she made her way back to her seat, a pale, studious-looking younggirl with a head that looked almost top-heavy with its black braids, andwho wore glasses, presented herself before Nathalie. She smilednervously as Helen began, "Oh, this owl-like individual is BarbaraWorth; she is very learned--she knows it all."
"Oh, Helen!" came in pained expostulation from the girl, as her eyesturned distressfully upon her hostess in shamed embarrassment.
"Oh, Barbara, don't mind," spoke up Lillie Bell kindly, "Helen is onlyin fun."
Barbara looked somewhat relieved at this brace to her injured feelings,and then stood nervously clasping and unclasping her hands together.
"Yes," went on Helen relentlessly, "we call her the Encyclopedia forshort. Wait until you want to know something in a hurry, she will helpyou out, for she has the best heart in the world." With a little rippleof laughter Helen leaned forward and looking up at Barbara cried,"There, did I say anything so dreadful?"
Barbara smiled gratefully and then said quietly, "Yes, Miss Page, I havea fine library, it is grandfather's, and I shall--" she drew a deepbreath--"always be glad to live up to my name."
There was loud clapping at this brave remark and then she was gone, butin her place stood a little lass who smiled bewitchingly at the girl inthe chair, showing a coy little dimple in one cheek, and then with aslight frown waited for her executioner to behead her.
"This little damsel is Louise Gaynor," introduced Helen; "she is theFlower of the family--spelt both ways. We call her flower, because sheresembles one," Louise bowed prettily with a surprised glance, "and thenbecause she is an expert manipulator of the flour bag; she makes mostedible flapjacks when we go on a hike. It is needless to say that wealways have indigestion afterwards." There was a laugh at this, and thenas the Flower disappeared, Helen drew to her side a diminutive girl whowore her flaxen hair in two large braids down her back. With her broad,good-natured face and cornflower blue eyes she was a miniature Gretchen.
"This is Carol Tyke--we spell it T-i-k-e, because she is a tike and thefag of the group as well." The little girl, who was about eleven, butsmall for her age, grinned at Nathalie and ducked her head. "She is aJunior Pioneer, not yet twelve. But we have her in training and she istaking tests daily, which doesn't give her much leisure time, does it,Tike?"
At last, much to Nathalie's relief, the introductions were over, andthen she listened intently as the girls began to tell her of a hike theyhad taken the week before, when one of their number had found a hundreddifferent leaf specimens.
"Yes, it was a leaf hike," said Grace. "We all have our own note-books;and make impressions from the leaves; that is, we print them in ourbooks, and then write the date of the hike, the name of the leaf, andany other data we have gathered."
"I should think it would be very interesting," remarked her listener, asshe thought of the outings she and her schoolmates used to take onSaturday mornings when they visited Bronx Park, and studied "cooped-upnature" as one of the girls used to call it, when they eyed some fiercemonarch of the forest in his iron cage, or exclaimed over the beautiesof some hot-house flower.
"We are going to have a wild-flower hike soon," volunteered the Tike,smiling at Nathalie in a most friendly manner. "The Sport says there area lot of beautiful flowers in the woods near Edgemere, didn't you,Sport?"
"But I wish you would tell me something about your tests--is that whatyou call them?" Nathalie asked. "I should think they would be no end offun if they mean making one do stunts, or anything in the hazing line?"
"Oh, we do not haze, or anything of that sort, for that would not bekind, and kindness is one of the laws of the Girl Pioneer," explainedGrace. "By tests we mean trying to see what a girl can do that isuseful, and if she can't do it, we teach her. We have to sew, cook, andknow all the emergency things."
"You mean the First Aid to the Injured methods," corrected Helen;"knowing what to do to revive a person when almost drowned, how to putout a fire--"
"How to bathe and bandage a sprained foot--"
"You needn't tell me you know that," cried Nathalie with sparkling eyes,"for I know by experience," and then she told the girls what the doctorhad said about Helen's skillful way of binding her foot--in spite of thatyoung lady's blushes at this open praise--and how clever her motherthought the girls were for the ready way in which they had made thestretcher from their khaki skirts.
"Then we have to know how to restore a person who has fainted," some onevolunteered.
"And learn the Fireman's Lift," added another girl.
"Oh, let's tell things from the beginning!" interrupted some methodicalgirl from the farther end of the porch.
"Oh, but I told Miss Page--" Helen stopped, for her hostess was lookingat her with beseeching eyes, clearly due to the formal title.
"Won't you please call me Nathalie?" the owner of that name venturedwith a coaxing little smile.
"If you will say Helen," replied the girl with evident delight.
The girls both laughed, shook hands on it, and then Helen continued."Yes, I told Nathalie all about the tests for the third-class Pioneer.Well, to become a second-class Pioneer it is necessary to have been athird-class Pioneer for at least a month. Then you have to know how tocook a piece of meat properly--"
"Boil a potato as it should be done!" interrupted Lillie Bell. This wasimpressively said, and followed by a chime of laughter from the girls.
"And make a coal fire in a cooking-stove--ye stars!" ejaculated Grace,"when I made my first, I literally smoked every one in the house to aham--but when I made my first out-of-door fire--"
"You didn't do any better," cried Lillie Bell irrelevantly, "for yousooted the whole bunch of us."
"Oh, Lillie," cried Grace in dismayed tone, "that wasn't from making thefire, for I was the only one who made it with a single match, but it wasfrom putting it out."
"Now girls, don't tell tales; for, as Mrs. Morrow says, we are allbreakable and no one should cast the first stone," called out theirleader.
"Oh, the tests are all easy but the next one," cried Edith Whiton, "thatis not a cinch by any means: how to remove a cinder from the eye--"
"Or any other foreign substance!"
"We have to know all the primary colors, too," went on Edith.
"Pshaw, any kindergarten kid knows that," spoke the Encyclopedia, who upto this moment had take
n no part in this flow of information, "but totie a bundle properly, that means hard labor."
"Yes, indeed," added Jessie Ford quickly, "one has to have an awful lotof practice to do that. I worked so hard tying up bundles at home forevery one in the house that Father suggested I apply for a position asbundle-wrapper at some department store. And I would have, just for ajoke, if I hadn't succeeded in making every one for whom I tied a bundlegive me five cents--and I made a dollar." Her eyes gleamed reminiscently.
"You have forgotten about the trees!" called out the Sport.
"Yes, we have to name three kinds of trees, three flowers and threebirds."
"Easy!" chimed the girls in unison.
"But the hardest--that was for me--" exclaimed Grace (Nathalie bentforward eagerly, for somehow she did like Grace), "was to earn or tosave fifty cents and put it in the bank." There was a general shout atthis, for, as Helen explained in an aside to Nathalie, Grace was therichest girl in the Pioneer group. She had a beautiful home, her ownautomobile, her own allowance, and yet she was always hard up.
"She's awfully generous, you know, and doesn't know how to count herpennies," she added wisely, "the way we girls do, because we have to.But she's learning."
But Helen's whispered comments about her friend were not all heard byNathalie, who suddenly stiffened, and with a quick exclamation leanedforward and stared curiously at a gray figure that was walking past thehouse with strained, averted eyes, as if fearful that she might see thegroup of merry girls on the veranda.
"Who is that lady all in gray?" she demanded, abruptly clutching Helen'sarm as her eyes followed the gliding figure of the strange-appearingwoman whose library card she had found the day of her accident in thewoods.
Helen looked up quickly in response to Nathalie's question, but beforeshe could answer, Kitty Corwin cried hastily, "Girls, look! there goes'The Mystic'!"