Through a window in the back of the cozy kitchen a blanketed squaw was seen dandling her swaddled papoose in her arms, as she peered hungrily in at the glowing fire, and watched thehuys-moederfill the warming pan with coals, thrust it between the sheets of the little trundle-bed, and then give her babies some mulled cider to drink.
The tiny figures in theircosyntjes, or nightcaps with long capes, had just crawled into bed when “tap-toes” sounded, and the honest mynheer and his good vrouw hastened to cover the still glowing embers with ashes for the fire of the morrow. The Dutch curfew had sounded, which meant that all good simple folk must hie to bed.
This fireside scene in old New York won its merited applause, and Nathalie, who had been the Dutch mother, Mrs. Morrow’s kiddies, the kinderkins, and Fred Tyson, the mynheer, were called before the curtain to receive the plaudits of their friends.
As Nathalie was hurrying from the dressing-room, glad that she was through her long-anticipated Stunt, and doubly glad that it had been a success, her name was called. She turned to see Helen, who, with an anxious face, was peering from the adjoining dressing room.
“Oh, has anything gone wrong?” demanded Nathalie hastening to the door.
“I should say!” exclaimed Helen with woebegonecountenance, “I have left my gun at home, and I must have it. Oh, I can’t imagine how I could have been so careless! Can’t you get some one to go and get it for me? Tell them to hurry, for my scene goes on in ten minutes.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” sympathized Nathalie, “tell me where to find it, quick, and I’ll get some one.”
“It is in the hall just behind the rack! Do hurry, Nat, I’m just about wild!”
Nathalie darted away; but alas, she could not find any one who could go at that moment, every one had some important duty to perform just then and there. Even the Scouts, who were always so ready to help the girls, were missing. “Oh, it is too bad!” bemoaned the girl. Presently her eyes lighted and in another instant she had flown up the stairs, seized her long cloak in the dressing-room, and then sped down the steps into the garden, and out into the street.
Ten minutes, that meant she would have to run every step of the way to get that gun there in time. So with the lightness of a bird she darted down one street, up another, and then—her heart gave a great leap as she came to the long, lonely stretch of road skirting the cemetery of the old Presbyterian church. But on she flew, hardly daring to cast her eyes towards the tall tombstones that gleamed at her with ghostly whiteness from the ghoulish shadows cast by the waving branches of the trees above them.
No, she was not afraid of ghosts, but she suddenly remembered a story she had heard as a little child, of a young girl who had been waylaid and killed by a man in a cemetery one dark night. Fiddle! she was not going to be afraid of a mere story, so with a snatch of melody on her lips she kept bravely on and soon left behind her the marble records of the dead. It did not take but a minute to ring the bell, tell Helen’s aunt what she wanted, then grab the gun and start off on her return journey.
Oh, she did hate to have to go by that old graveyard, she would take the other way around; but no, that would take twice the time and she must hurry! So nerving up her courage she ran on with the firm determination to play soldier, and level her musket if any one assailed her.
As she neared the cemetery her breath gave out, and instead of running by this danger post she had to walk every step. Determined not to look in the direction of these ghostly reminders of the past, she pushed resolutely on. She had almost reached the end of the long fence when the sudden snap of a twig, followed by a rustling noise caused her heart to pause in its beating. A scream escaped her quivering lips, for there in the bright radiance that fell like a silver veil over all objects she saw the figure of a man rise from one of the tombstones near the fence and come towards her!
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“From your throne on my knee,The pigs in the bean-patch see,The cows in the clover meet,The horses in the oat field eat.The ducks in the water passThe calves scamper through the grass.They love the baby on my kneeAnd none there are as sweet as she.”
Nathalie’s eyes dilated with terror, and her heart pounded with such leaping beats that it almost choked her. She attempted to run, but alas, her limbs seemed tied with ropes, and then she remembered the gun!
Just an instant and she had raised it, and with trembling hands was pointing it at the enemy, who by this time had lightly vaulted the wooden fence and was coming towards her. Nathalie’s hand was feeling for the trigger when, “Oh, don’t shoot!” cried a voice in serio-comic tone, “I surrender!” Up went two hands in pretended subjugation.
The girl gasped, dropped the gun, and then broke into hysterical laughter as she cried, “Oh—is—that you?”
“Yes, it is I; Fred Tyson in the flesh!” rejoined the supposed murderer coolly, as with a stride he was at her side and, stooping picked up the gun.
The reaction was so great that for a moment Nathalie feared she was going to cry, but controlling herselfby a strong effort she exclaimed, “Oh, I was sure you were a tramp,” with a nervous giggle, “or a murderer intent on killing me, and then hiding my body in the thicket yonder.” She shuddered.
“Great guns!” Fred exclaimed as he looked the gun over. “It is lucky this thing didn’t go off. By the Lord Harry, how did you come to be carrying it?”
Nathalie, with a long breath of relief that all was well after her fright, then told Fred how she came to be near the graveyard at that time. Then suddenly remembering that she had not a minute to lose, she cried hurriedly, “Oh, let us go on. I am afraid I am too late!”
“You’re all hunky,” returned Fred calmly. “You have plenty of time, for I overheard Mrs. Morrow tell Helen to postpone her Stunt until one of the last.”
“But how did you come to be here, may I ask?” queried Nathalie as they turned to walk up.
“Oh, I was in the next room and heard Helen tell you to go and get something at her house. I started out to offer my services, but some one buttonholed me for the next Stunt; I had forgotten I was in it. As soon as it was over I hurried out to find you, but you had skipped. I rushed after you, missed you, and then remembering that you would return this way as it is the shortest, sat down on one of the tombstones to wait for you. But you’re the stuff, all right, Nathalie Page, you ought to have a medal for bravery.”
Up went two hands in pretended subjugation.Up went two hands in pretended subjugation.
He suddenly pointed the gun and then pulled the trigger.
Nathalie gave a shrill scream in a spasm of apprehension, and jumped to one side. “Oh, please, don’t do that, it might be loaded, you know!”
Fred threw his head back and burst into a hearty laugh. “Oh, ho, I see you are not as nervy as I thought,” there was a mischievous glint in his merry black eyes. And then as if ashamed of torturing the nerve-racked girl he cried soothingly, “Don’t you fret, Miss Blue Robin; there isn’t any guess with me, I don’t take chances. I saw it wasn’t loaded when I first picked it up, but come, let’s hurry!”
“Please don’t tell any one I was afraid!” pleaded Nathalie, as they hastened on under the swaying branches of the trees that cast weird, fanciful designs on the moon-mantled path. “They will think me an awful coward and tease me unmercifully.”
Fred assured her that he would keep mum, and added that she was not a coward, but a very brave girl. Then, in response to a challenge to race him to the Hall, they were off, Nathalie by this time having regained her usual poise and nerve. She won the race, for Fred, desiring to be gallant, dropped back a space or two just at the right time, and thus allowed his partner to be the victor in this race of two blocks.
The gun was quickly delivered to Helen and then they hurried into the hall in time to see the portraitsof Henry Hudson, Edward Winslow, William Penn, Governor Stuyvesant, and Captain Kidd and Henry Morgan, two pirates of pioneer fame. These colonial portraits were produced by their representatives standing behind a large wooden frame that had been made by the Scouts, gilded by the Pioneers, and then placed in front of a dark curtain.
Helen’s Stunt proved to be a canvas background on which was painted a log cabin. At the door of this pioneer home stood Helen with a baby clinging to her skirts, pointing a gun at a skulking savage just disappearing beyond a very fair representation of a clump of trees. This picture of a mother of the wilderness was loudly encored, as it was significant of the hardy courage displayed by the women of those early days.
The last Stunt showed the Pioneers in line, each one with a big red letter pinned to the skirt of her uniform; the combination making the word “Pioneer Women.” Giving bird-calls, building miniature log-cabins, making camp fires, jumping, throwing the lifeline, as well as making the motions of rowing and swimming, these and many other activities of the organization were performed. The girls ended by falling into line again and singing a farewell Pioneer song.
Mrs. Morrow now came forward, and after thanking the audience for their kind attention and aid in helping make the affair a success by buying tickets and by their presence, she announced that there would beanother entertainment, a Flag Drill, to take place on the fourteenth of that month. It would be held in the rear of the home of Mrs. Van Vorst, that lady having kindly offered her lawn for the affair.
The faces of the Pioneers, with the exception of Nathalie’s and Helen’s, expressed unbounded surprise as they heard this announcement. As Fred Tyson and two other Scouts passed slips of paper so that each one present could write her or his opinion as to the best Stunt of the evening, there was a merry clack of tongues as each girl queried how and when this wonderful thing had come to pass.
Lillie Bell, who had been watching Nathalie, suddenly leaned forward crying, “Nathalie Page, I just believe that you know all about it!” Nathalie did her best to look bland and innocent when this accusation was hurled at her, but the query was as a match to fire, and instantly Nathalie was surrounded by a bevy of girls, all eagerly demanding that she tell them how it came about.
“O dear, how should I know?” she demanded with seeming indignation.
“There, I told you she knew,” declared the Sport, who at that moment joined the group. “Her face betrays her! And then she is on the committee.”
Nathalie turned and flashed at Edith angrily, “Well, if I do know I am not going to tell. If you want any information go and ask Mrs. Morrow.” Then feelingthat things were growing desperate and that she might reveal what she had striven so hard to keep a secret, she broke from her tormentors and hurried into the hall.
Seeing Helen at that moment she dashed up to her, and grabbing her by the arm cried, “Helen, the girls are tormenting me to tell them about the lawn party; oh, do keep them from asking me again, for I am in mortal terror that I may tell something that should not be told just yet.”
“All right,” soothed her friend, “don’t you bother about the girls finding out, I’ll see to them. But here’s Fred, he wants you to vote. By the way, have you heard that the Sport’s Stunt has so far the greatest number of votes, and—”
But Helen had been carried off by one of the Scouts, and Nathalie turned to find Fred at her side eagerly demanding her vote.
“Why don’t you vote for ‘The First American Wash-Day’?” demanded the young man as he saw Nathalie hesitate and swing her pencil, lost in abstraction. “It will win, I think, and it was a good Stunt, too; well acted out. Edith deserves credit.”
“Do you think so?” flashed Nathalie. She colored angrily. “I do not agree with you. I think—” She stopped, compressed her lips, and then added coolly, “I shall vote for Helen, for I consider her Stunt the best one of the evening.” She wrote thename of the Stunt hurriedly, signed her name, and then handed the card to Fred, who was regarding her with a puzzled expression on his face.
He took the card and turned to go, but seeing that the floor had been cleared for dancing he stopped, and swinging about asked Nathalie if he could have the next dance. Nathalie assented, although she did not feel in the mood for dancing just at that moment.
“You won’t mind waiting a moment, will you?” asked Fred. “I have got to turn in my cards. Then I see this is a square dance, and I want a waltz with you. Are you angry with me?” he asked wonderingly as he saw that Nathalie’s eyes still gleamed fire and that her cheeks were bright red.
The girl looked up at him absently and then, suddenly comprehending that she was acting rather rudely towards this new friend, cried laughing, “Angry with you? Indeed, no! Iam angrywith—some one,” she added bitterly, her glance suddenly falling on Edith. “But there, return your cards and then we will dance.”
Five minutes later as Fred swung his partner lightly up and down the hall to waltz time, Nathalie forgot all the unpleasant jars of the evening in the enjoyment of the moment. But later, as they hurried out on the veranda for a breath of fresh air, she remembered how rudely she had acted and felt as if she ought to make some kind of an explanation to Fred for her seemingrudeness. Then it suddenly came to her that perhaps he might think she was jealous of Edith. Oh, no, she was not jealous—she was willing Edith should win the highest number of votes, only it did seem a bit hard to have to give all the glory up to some one else, when it rightfully belonged to her, and then Edithhad beenmean about it.
“Please don’t think I didn’t want Edith to win,” she burst forth as they seated themselves in a cozy corner where she could see the dancers in the hall. “Only—you see it is this way, I—”
But before she could finish, the Tike came rushing up all of a whirl crying, “Oh, Nathalie, your Stunt won! I’m awfully glad!” And she danced up and down in her delight at Nathalie’s success.
“Oh, ‘The First American Wash-Day’ was Edith’s Stunt,” Nathalie hastened to explain, resolved that she would be a martyr to her wounded pride with a good grace.
“That didn’t win the highest vote, but your Stunt did,” retorted Carol jubilantly; “the one with the old Dutchwoman putting the kiddies to bed. And that Dutch lullaby—oh, Nathalie, where did you learn it?”
Before Nathalie could answer Carol had skipped away, leaving the girl with a strange expression on her face as she stared at Fred with mystified eyes. “Doyou suppose I really won it?” she demanded after a pause. “I thought you said Edith’s Stunt was the winner.”
“So I heard,” was Fred’s reply. “But then, Miss Nathalie, I am awfully glad your Stunt won. It was a peach, I thought myself, but I heard—”
“Oh, I don’t care about that,” cried Nathalie. There was a quiver to her voice. “I don’t deserve it; oh, I have been awfully mean, and yet I have been calling Edith mean—” She stopped abruptly. How queerly it had turned out!
Catching a rather strange look in her companion’s eyes she exclaimed, “Oh, indeed I was willing that Edith should win—I don’t care a snap about it myself—only, you see it was this way.” She floundered for a moment and then with a sudden catch in her breath leaned towards Fred crying, “If I tell you something, will you swear never to reveal it?” Fred’s face brightened; he was delighted to think Nathalie considered him worthy of her confidence, and lost no time in assuring her of this fact. But the girl was thinking of only one thing, and that was that she was going to break her silence in regard to Edith and unburden herself of what had been causing her a good deal of discomfort all the evening. Nathalie talked rapidly and in a few minutes Fred was in possession of the facts about “The First American Wash-Day,” andhow it had come about that although the idea was Nathalie’s, Edith had won the glory of it without the work.
“Say, but you’re game!” declared Fred admiringly, as Nathalie finished her story. “It was a fine thing for you not to tell; I don’t blame you for feeling mean about it. But the Sport had no right to use it—”
“Well, never mind now,” cried Nathalie, “it is all over with and I am glad I didn’t tell any one but you, and you won’t break your word, will you? The word of a Scout, you know,” added the girl archly.
Fred laughingly assured her that his word as a gentleman was sufficient and as binding as that of a Scout. Then as they discussed the Scout oath, its pledges, and so forth, Dr. Homer appeared and asked his little hike-mate if he might have the pleasure of a dance with her.
Nathalie smilingly assured him she would be most happy and then with a good-by to Fred, the quaint little figure in its queer Dutch cap and flowered gown followed the doctor into the hall.
The long anticipated fourteenth of June had arrived, and the level stretch of green grass with its circling hillocks in the rear of the gray house was ablaze with color. Beneath a high arch festooned with the red, white, and blue—the Pioneers’ color again—stood a number of merry girls, each one gowned in white witha scarlet sash, and a red liberty cap, and holding in her hand a flag or small banner.
Every eye as well as tongue was on duty, as each girl triumphantly displayed her flag to her comrades, proudly claiming that it was an exact copy of one of the liberty banners used by the colonies preceding or during the Revolution.
“Hurrah for the Concord flag,” cried Kitty Corwin, as she hoisted up a small maroon banner inscribed with the motto, “Conquer or Die.” “This is one of the oldest flags in America, for it was the one carried when the ‘embattled farmers fired the shot heard round the world’”—she twirled it high in air—“on the 19th of April, 1775, at the first battle of the Revolution!”
“Oh, but your flag hasn’t the romance that mine has,” said Edith, ostentatiously waving a crimson flag fringed at the ends, and with a cord and tassel. “This is the Eutaw flag and was made by Miss Jane Elliot. Col. William Washington—he was a relative or something of little Georgie—when stationed at Charleston, South Carolina, fell in love with Miss Jane. One night, after spending the evening with his lady love, as he bade her good night, she said she hoped to hear good news of his flag and fortune. Whereupon the poor colonel was forced to confess that his corps had no flag. Upon hearing this the young lady pulled down one of the portières, cut it to the rightsize, fringed it at the ends, stuck it on a curtain pole, and then presented it to her gallant lover, telling him to make it his standard. Of course after that it brought good luck and won a great victory at Cowpens, January, 1781, and another at Eutaw Springs the following September. Forty years later the flag was presented by the hands that made it to the Washington Light Infantry of Charleston, for the fair Jane married the colonel, all right.”
“Well, don’t you girls boast too much,” declared Jessie, “for if it hadn’t been for my flag there wouldn’t have been any banners of liberty to make you patriotic.” And Jessie held up a white flag barred with the scarlet cross of St. George, the flag dear to Merrie Old England as the flag of the people, and beloved by the colonists as the ensign that floated from the little shipMayflower.
As if to supplement Jessie’s declaration, an Oriole gayly flaunted the Red Ensign of Great Britain with its canton quartered by the cross of St. George and St. Andrew. “This is the flag that followed Jessie’s and was necessarily adopted by the colonists as the flag of the mother country. It was called the Union flag—the two crosses signifying the union of Scotland and England, when King James of Scotland became king—and remained in use in America until the beginning of the Revolution.”
Grace, who had been impatiently waiting to floather flag, now cried, “Away with your old Johnnie Bull flags! Mine is worth a hundred of those old English rags, for it was the first distinctively American flag used by the Colonies, ‘The Pine Tree Flag of New England.’”
“But it has the red cross on the white canton just the same,” ventured Jessie, “and it is red, too.”
“Of course it has the cross on it,” quickly retorted Grace, “for at that time the Colonies still belonged to England; but if you look, my lady, you’ll see that pine in the first quarter of the canton, and that is American all through, every pine on it. It meant that the colonists, although they were English, had a right to representation in the mother country and to a symbol of their own.”
“Well,” persisted Jessie, in whose veins flowed a goodly supply of English blood, “your scrubby old pine was such a poor representation of that noble tree that Charles II asked what it represented—and was told it was an oak.”
“Come, Jessie,” laughed Helen, “that story is a back number. Every one can guess without much effort that the man who told that yarn to the king was a New Englander. He wanted to gain favor with Charles and bluffed him a bit, trying to make out it was a model of the royal oak in which his majesty took refuge after the battle of Worcester.”
“Oh, stop discussing the merits of that old pine andlook at my banner,” sang out Louise Gaynor, shaking her flag furiously to and fro so as to get the attention of the girls. “This flag is the Crescent flag and stands for the bravest of the brave. Now listen, and you will all understand what true heroism means.”
The girls, impressed by the Flower’s declaration, grew silent, and gazed curiously at a red banner with a white crescent in the upper corner near the staff. “This flag was designed by Col. Moultrie of the Second Carolina Infantry in 1775. During the siege of Charleston when the flag was shot down, Sergeant William Jasper at the peril of his life recovered it, and held it in place on the parapet until another staff was found. In 1779, at the assault on Savannah, it was again shot from its holdings. Two lieutenants sprang forward and held it in position until they were killed by the enemy’s bullets. Jasper again sprang forward and held the colors up until he, too, was riddled with bullets, and fell into a ditch. As he was dying he seized the flag in his hands and cried, ‘Tell Mrs. Elliot’—she was the wife of one of the majors—‘that I lost my life supporting the colors she gave our regiment.’”
Barbara, who was usually so placid and mild, now grew quite intense as she pointed to her flag, the Cambridge flag, claiming that it was the first flag on this side of the water to float the red and white bars. It signified, she said, that although the colonists werewilling to return to the rule of the English, they were a body of armed men fighting for just and equal rights with their brothers who had crossed the sea to whip them into submission. “But they didn’t,” ended Barbara with triumphant eyes. “And this flag, also known as the Union flag—meaning that the colonists stood as a man in their desire for the right—was displayed by Washington in his camp at Cambridge, January 2nd, 1776.”
“Now let me have a chance,” pleaded Nathalie, who had been impatiently waiting to show her design for some time. “My flag has a story, too.” She held up as high as she could a white flag with a rattlesnake in the center. It bore in black letters the name, “The Culpeper Minute Men of Virginia,” the snaky slogan, “Don’t Tread On Me,” and the famous words of its commander, Patrick Henry, “Liberty or Death!”
“Do you see that rattlesnake?” continued Miss Nathalie, as she brought her flag to a standstill and pointed to the snaky emblem. “That has a story—”
“Pooh,” interposed Edith, who was jealously guarding her declaration that her flag was the most beautiful because it had a story. “I don’t see any story about that snaky old thing. Ugh, I never could understand why so many flags had that design.”
“I will tell you why,” declared Nathalie, “because I have looked it up, and—”
“But you are not the only one who has looked upflags,” chimed Jessie, “for my eyes were just about ruined trying to get a merit badge for proficiency in flag history—”
“And for deftness and skill in making our flags,” broke in a Pioneer from the Bob White group.
“I beg your pardon, girls, I know you are all very wise on the subject of flags this morning,” rejoined Nathalie good-naturedly, “but do you know why the rattlesnake was chosen as an ensign?”
She waited a moment, but as no one seemed to know she went on. “The rattlesnake is to be found only in America; my authority is Benjamin Franklin. It is the wisest of the snake family, therefore a symbol of wisdom. Its bright, lidless eyes never close, this signifies vigilance. It never attacks without giving due notice, which meant that the American colonies were on the square. Each rattle is perfect, while at the same time it is so firmly attached to its fellows that it cannot be separated without incurring the ruin of all; each colony was a complete unit in itself, and yet it could not stand unless it had the support of the others. As it ages, the rattles increase in numbers, which meant that it was the fervent desire of the people that the colonies should increase in numbers with the years.”
As Nathalie finished her little lecture, Helen, with a sudden movement, shouldered her flag like a musket, and parting the group of girls, marched jubilantlydown the center, crying, “Oh, girls, you have had the floor long enough to tell of the beauties and glories of your paltry banners, but let me tell you, not a flag has won the honors and glories that mine has. Hurrah, girls, for Old Glory!” she ended with a triumphant wave of the Stars and Stripes above their heads.
As if inspired by the sight of the cheery banner so gallantly flung to the breezes by their comrade, the girls with one accord broke into the flag cheer:
“Hear! hear; hear Girl Pioneer!For flag so dear give a cheer!For the bars that are white and red,And stars on blue overheadWe honor thee with a cheer!Hurrah! Hurrah! Girl Pioneer!”
Before the echo of the cheer had died in the distance Nathalie cried, “Oh, girls, the first signal!” Immediately these little patriotic Daughters of that which every one holds dear fell into line, and with flags upheld fastened their eyes on a small platform that had been erected in the center of the lawn draped with the national colors, where the Goddess of Liberty had just appeared. Holding up a green branch in her hand she began to walk agitatedly up and down the stage, pausing abruptly every moment or so to peer to the right or left, as if watching for some one.
Suddenly she halted, and with the dramatic gesturesof Lillie Bell—for it was she—cried in mournful tone, “‘Is life so dear, or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!’”
As the tragic intonation of her voice ceased, the band—composed, by the way, of a number of Scouts—burst forth with that old melody, “The Wearing of the Green.” This was another signal, and the girls waiting under the arch began to march slowly towards the stage, while the Goddess in feigned mystification moved quickly from side to side with her hand held to her ear, as if trying to ascertain whence came this martial tune.
But on came the Daughters of Liberty with flashes of white and red, and with banners of many designs and devices. They presented such a brilliant showing that the audience seated in rows on the circling mounds broke into loud applause, which burst into enthusiastic cheers of greeting, as in the bright glare of the sunlight they perceived Old Glory floating far above the heads of the banner bearers as they proudly marched across the green.
When the Goddess perceived this procession of fair damsels she stood apparently in a maze for a moment, and then slowly retreated backward until she stood on the scarlet draped dais with its throne. As the thirteenmaids of freedom filed slowly on the platform, forming a half circle before the Goddess, the band struck into that old-time air, “The Liberty Tree,” and a second later every Daughter had chimed in and was singing:
“In a chariot of light from the regions of dayThe Goddess of Liberty came;Ten thousand celestials directed the way,And hither conducted the dame.A fair budding branch from the gardens above,Where millions and millions agreeShe brought in her hand as a pledge of her love,And the plant she named Liberty Tree.”
“And the plant she named Liberty Tree,” sang Nita blithely up in the window of the sun parlor, where she sat with her mother and her old Scotch nurse, Ellen, watching the brilliant scene being enacted down on the lawn.
As the last verse ended—and there were four—Helen stepped before the Goddess, and after saluting told in a few words how the brave pioneers had brought to this land a tiny spark which had flamed into the sacred fire of Liberty. As time wore on, trampled by the sons of Tyranny, it was in danger of being stamped out, when the daughters of these pioneers fled to its aid in their great fight for the right, and by their bravery and heroic self-denial had revived the sacred fire. The ensigns now floating before her were the signals of their success in making this land, “The Land of the Free and Home of the Brave!”
An expression of regret flitted across Nita’s face as she realized that she could not hear the words Helen was speaking, but in a moment, remembering, she cried, “But I have them, Mamma, for Nathalienot only taught me the words of the songs, but wrote down for me the speeches of the girls. Ah, Helen is telling the Goddess how the Pilgrims came to this land and planted the Liberty Tree. Of course they did not really plant it, you know, only in their hearts, for they were determined to have liberty of conscience, speech, and action.
“Oh, and there’s another daughter speaking to the Goddess. See, she carries the flag that came over in theMayflowerwith the Pilgrims.” Then Miss Nita, finding she had an appreciative audience in her mother and Ellen, rattled on, highly pleased to think she was giving them such good entertainment. She repeated the words of each fair daughter as she displayed her trophy of liberty, and could clap as enthusiastically as the spectators watching from the hillocks in the distance. Mrs. Van Vorst, as she heard her daughter’s words and witnessed her joy, entering with as much zest and spirit into the patriotic little drill as the Pioneers smiled in attune with the invalid, showing more enjoyment than she had done for years.
“There’s the flag of Bunker Hill; it is just like the Pine Tree flag, only it is blue instead of red,” exclaimed Nita. “And, oh, Mother, see, there’s the real Liberty Flag with its pine tree, and motto, ‘An Appeal to Heaven.’ Look quick! that’s the Markoe flag! See, it is yellow and has thirteen stripes of blue and silver. Nathalie said this flag was the first one onland to float stripes, and that it was the flag carried by the Philadelphia Troop of Light Horse when they escorted Washington to New York. And that crimson silk flag is the Casimir flag; it belonged to Count Casimir. He was the son of Pulaski, who perished in a dungeon for advocating the cause of liberty. The Count came to America and organized a corps of cavalry at Baltimore, and when the Moravian nuns heard of it they presented him with that flag. But, oh, Mother, the poor Count died after all; he was shot at the siege of Savannah in 1779.”
Ellen, the old Scotch nurse who adored her invalid charge, and who had always taken care of her from the time she was a wee tot, was deeply stirred as she saw how Nita entered into the new life that had suddenly been opened up to her, and her face fairly beamed with gratified pride as she heard her repeat the songs and speeches of the girls in the playlet.
When the last speech ended, the strains of Yankee Doodle were heard, and presently a Scout in the uniform of a Continental soldier appeared on the platform carrying a draped flag. After saluting the mother of Freedom he planted his pole in the center of the circle of Liberty maidens, and the next instant each one had caught up one of the red, blue, and white streamers that hung from it, and were swinging gayly around, singing “The Red, White, and Blue.”
This song was followed by the “Battle Cry ofFreedom,” and then the soldier, saluting the Goddess again in a short speech, said he desired to present to her an emblem, the outgrowth of the labors of the Sons and Daughters of Liberty. The ensign that stands for everything that is just, true, and progressive, the symbol of the sovereignty of Civilization, the banner that had been unfurled in more movements for the protection, the liberty, and the elevation of mankind, than any ensign that ripples to the four winds of Heaven.
Oh, no, the little company up in the window didn’t hear all these words from the lips of the soldier, but from Nita as she read them softly from her paper. But they did see the signal given by the soldier, and clapped with joy when each fair daughter pulled her streamer, the red drapings fell from the pole, and Old Glory stood revealed. And as the colors swayed softly in the gentle breeze they joined with patriotic fervor as the girls and audience broke into “The Star Spangled Banner!”
The Flag Drill was over, and the girls, breaking ranks, were soon scattered here and there over the lawn in groups, as they stood receiving the congratulations of their friends on the success of the entertainment. It was but a moment or so, however, and the girls had all rushed back to duty, and each one with a scout was serving ice-cream and cake to the buyers at the gayly festooned tables under the trees.
Nathalie, nerve and bone tired, was wishing that she could sit down if only for a moment, when her eyes suddenly grew bright with thought, and the next second she had darted across the grass crying, “Oh, Grace, don’t you think it would be nice if we could take some cream and cake up to Nita and her mother?”
“Nita?” repeated that young lady, who had never heard the name before. “Why, what do you mean?”
Nathalie started. “Oh, why, to be sure, I forgot to tell you about her, but Mrs. Morrow thought best to—”
Nathalie broke off in despair as she realized that Grace knew nothing about the princess in the tower and the many other happenings at the gray house, only that its owner had consented to allow the girls to use her lawn.
“Why, you know Nita is Mrs. Van Vorst’s daughter; she was the one who got her mother to let us have the lawn. She’s just lovely, I have been going to see her every day for—”
At this moment Ellen, her face glowing with pleasure, touched Nathalie on the arm as she cried, “Oh, Miss Nathalie, Mrs. Van Vorst has sent me to ask you to come up and see Miss Nita, and to bring two of your friends with you!”
Nathalie stared a moment as if not comprehending what Ellen had said, and then, “Oh, Ellen, do youmean that Mrs. Van Vorst wants me to come up to see Miss Nita and to—”
“Yes, that is just what I mean, Miss,” rejoined Ellen, evidently enjoying Nathalie’s amazement. “Miss Nita wants to meet some of your Pioneer friends. Bless the child, Miss Nathalie, but you and your friends have brought real sunshine straight to the heart of my bairn. Bless you for it!”
Nathalie smiled and nodded as she answered, “All right, Ellen, I’ll be right up!” Then, as the old nurse disappeared among the throngs on the lawn Nathalie turned to Grace, who was standing in open-mouthed astonishment at this sudden turn in the day’s doings.
“Oh, Grace, will you go with me? Didn’t I tell you Nita was lovely?” Then seizing the girl by the arm she swept her across the grass to where Helen was standing talking to her brother.
“Helen,” she panted, “I want you to come with me to see Nita. Mrs. Van Vorst has sent for me to come up and says for me to bring two of my friends. Will you come?”
“Come!” exclaimed Helen, “of course I will. I have been on the point of expiring with curiosity ever since you told me of your adventure at the gray house.”
“Adventure?” repeated Grace. “Oh, Nathalie, you have not told me about it!” in an aggrieved tone.
“But I’m going to! Oh, but I must hurry and get the cream ready or it will be too late!” She started to run, but after a few steps turned back, and waving her hand at the girls, called, “Helen, you tell her while I am getting the tray.”
“But I’m coming to help you,” replied that young woman. “You come, too,” she added, catching Grace by the arm. But to her surprise Grace pulled away from her with the exclamation, “Oh, Helen! I wouldn’t go in that house for a mint of money! Why didn’t you know? No, I’m not to tell,” she ended mysteriously, “but you go,” she added, “that is if you are not afraid.”
“Afraid?” echoed her companion in amazement, “why should I be afraid, surely you don’t think any one could harm us as long as Nathalie has been there and come away safely?”
“I don’t know,” hesitated Grace, “I!—”
“Oh, girls, I have the tray all ready, but you will have to help me carry it. Do come on, for I do not want to keep Mrs. Van Vorst waiting too long!” Nathalie was back again.
“Grace says she is afraid to go,” explained Helen.
“Afraid!” repeated Nathalie bewildered. “What are you afraid of?” she demanded abruptly turning towards her friend.
“Why Nathalie, don’t you remember that day we—”
Nathalie continued to gaze at her blankly, and then her face broke into a smile as she remembered the day she and Grace had run away from the gray house afraid of the crazy man.
“Oh, Grace,” she cried with merry laughter, “that was the best joke on you and me, for, O dear, why, Grace, it wasn’t any crazy man at all, it was only a cockatoo!”
The long kept secret that had troubled Nathalie so much at first was out at last, and she and Helen, who had been told about that when her friend’s silence was first broken as far as she was concerned, broke into prolonged laughter at the richness of the joke.
“A cockatoo?” exclaimed Grace incredulously, and then annoyed at the girls’ merriment she added crossly, “Oh, I do wish you would explain what is so funny, I think it real mean of you both to laugh that way!”
“Yes, it is mean,” added Nathalie, stifling her laughter as she saw the irate expression on her friend’s face. “But, Grace, it was funny. I would have told you all about it before—that is how I found out—only I had sworn not to tell. But if you will promise not to reveal what I am going to tell you—honor bright—” this in answer to the girl’s nod of assent, “I will tell you the mystery of the gray house!”
It was not long now before Grace heard the long story of how Nathalie had come to go to the house, how she had found out about the cockatoo, the starpart she had played with the princess, and the many other happenings that had taken place within the last few weeks.
“But is the poor thing such a terrible monster?” demanded Grace in ready sympathy.
“A monster?” ejaculated Nathalie in amazement. “Who said she was a monster?”
“Why, don’t you remember? Edith—”
“Now, see here,” exclaimed Nathalie stamping her feet angrily, “don’t tell me another word of what the Sport says. I am just beginning to hate that girl, she is always saying and doing things she has no—” She stopped suddenly as it came to her in a conscience-stricken flash that Pioneers were never to say evil of any one.
Helen, seeing the strange expression in her eyes and noticing how her color was coming and going in flashes, cried, “Oh, Nathalie, what is it?”
“It is nothing,” replied the girl quickly in a choked voice, “I just stopped—because—well, I remembered that one of the Pioneer laws is not to speak evil of any one. I’m going to keep mum after this, but that girl,” her eyes shadowed again, “does provoke me so!”
“Oh, Nathalie, you are a dear girl,” exclaimed Helen, putting her arm around her friend and giving her a hug. “I wish we were all as careful about keeping the Pioneer laws as you, but gracious, child, don’trepent with such dire woe, for none of us are saints, and the Sport is trying, the Lord knows. But explain to Grace about your friend.”
“No,” said Nathalie determinedly. “I am not going to say another thing, only that Nita is not a monster, only a humpback, and—but there, if you want to know about her, come and see her.”
“Well,” spoke up Helen, “if we are going to see the Princess in the tower—how fairylike that sounds—we had better go. And then, as seeing is believing, we’ll go and tell the Sport all about it, and stop that funny little tongue of hers that creates so much trouble at times.”
“Oh, that will be just the thing; Helen, you are a dear!” cried Nathalie. Then the three girls hurried to the ice-cream table for the tray. Hastily taking it they pushed their way through the crowd, coming and going about the tables, to the porch, where Ellen relieved them of their burden and then conducted them to the sun parlor, where Mrs. Van Vorst and Nita sat waiting to receive them.
“Oh, Mrs. Van Vorst,” cried Nathalie as she greeted that lady and her daughter, “it was lovely of you to allow me to bring my two friends to meet Nita. This is Miss Helen Dame,” she continued drawing Helen to her, “and this is another Pioneer friend, Miss Grace Tyson.”
“I am very glad to meet you, Mrs. Van Vorst,”broke in Helen, “for I feel that we are very much indebted to you for allowing us to use your lawn.”
“Yes,” chimed Grace, as she shook the lady’s hand, “we all feel that you have given us a lovely afternoon.”
“I think the indebtedness is on my side,” smiled the lady, looking down with pleased eyes at the two girls, as they stood glancing shyly at her, their white dresses and red caps making them appear unusually pretty. “But let me make you acquainted with my daughter,” she added, leading them to where Nita sat, her blue eyes almost black with the excitement of meeting these two new Pioneers, while her cheeks, usually so pale, were flushed with a delicate pinkness.
After the general hand-shaking was over and the little party had gathered closer to the window to admire the gay-colored flags that fluttered, one from each table, showing with unusual vividness between the green foliage and light dresses of strollers across the lawn, Nathalie asked Nita how she had liked the drill.
“Oh, Nathalie,” rejoined the princess enthusiastically, “it was just the prettiest sight, and I told Ellen and Mamma every flag story, didn’t I?” Then suddenly remembering the two strangers, she relapsed into a shy silence and crouched back in the friendly shelter of her chair as if with the sudden thought of her deformity and the fear that the girls would see it.
But Grace and Helen were not thinking of the “awfulhump” as Nathalie had defined it, but of the pale sweet face with the lovely violet eyes that were shining like bright stars.
“I am awfully glad you liked it,” said Helen, suddenly recalled to her duties as the leader of one of the groups. “We tried to make it look as festive as we could with Uncle Sam’s old liberty banners, but if it had not been for the lawn we should not have been able to have the drill.”
“You are all very kind to thank me so prettily,” said Mrs. Van Vorst, “but, as I said, I think you have given me and my little daughter more pleasure than we have given you. The poor child sees so little of life, as we are so secluded here behind these high walls.”
In a few moments, as Nita’s shyness began to wear off, the little group was chatting in the most friendly way, talking over the incidents of the drill, the Pioneers telling about the nice little sum they had made for their camp expenses, while they all ate their cream and cake. Ellen, like a good soul that she was, had hastened out to the lawn and brought enough of those delicacies to provide for the whole group.
Helen’s remark about the Camping Fund started a new subject of conversation and opened the way for Nita to ask many questions about this summer dream of the Pioneers. “Oh,” she declared at length, “I just wish you could come up to Eagle Lake and camp on its shores. We have a bungalow up there, youknow, and it is just a glorious place. But it gets so lonely after a while, with nothing but the birds and squirrels to talk to. Oh,” she ended suddenly with a little sigh, “if I was only well and strong, then I would be a Pioneer, too.”
“Oh, but you—” interrupted Nathalie, and then she paused. She was going to say “why you can be,” but the quick remembrance of the hump and the delicate face of the girl caused her to halt. With quick readiness she changed to, “Oh, but you would enjoy seeing one of our cheer fires; they are an inspiration for all kinds of dreams with the burning logs and glowing embers.”
“You ought to see the fagot party we are going to have Monday night,” chimed in Grace. “It is to be a burning send-off to one of the girls who is going South to live for a while.”
“A fagot party?” exclaimed Nita with interested eyes. “Oh, do tell all about it; it sounds, well it sounds fagoty. What do you do?”
“Why, we use small fagots tied into bundles,” explained Helen, “that is, after we have started a good blazing fire. Each girl has her fagot bundle and as soon as one burns up she throws hers on—”
“Oh, but you haven’t told the best part,” broke in Grace. “While each girl’s fagot bundle is burning she tells a story, which has to be ended by the time her fagots are burned.”
“Does she have to stop on the very second?” questioned Nita.
“Yes, she begins as soon as she throws her bundle on the blaze, and keeps on talking until it is all burned up and falls to a shower of fiery sparks. But of course she has to keep a sharp look out on the burning fagots, so as to end her tale with a good climax as the fagots fall,” explained Helen.
“Where are you going to have it?” questioned Nita, a shade of disappointment on her face as she thought how she would like to see this fagot party.
“We haven’t found a place yet,” answered Grace, who was one of the committee, “but we are working hard to have it down in Deacon Ditmas’s lot, near the cross-roads.”
“Why can’t you have it on our lawn?” exclaimed Nita timidly, turning appealing eyes towards her mother. “Oh, Mother, do say they can have it here, and then I can see it.”
The girls were so amazed at this sudden and unexpected proposition that they all remained silent, Nathalie in a spasm of dread for fear that Mrs. Van Vorst would think that the Pioneers were a great nuisance being thrust upon her hospitality in this abrupt manner. But she was quickly undeceived as the lady rejoined hastily, “Why, I should be most pleased to let the Pioneers have the lawn for the fagot party. It would give Nita great pleasure, I am sure.”
“That will be just lovely!” cried her daughter, clapping her hands delightedly. “And you will take it, won’t you?” she coaxed pleadingly, suddenly stopping her demonstrations as if realizing that her plan might not be pleasing to the girls.
“I think it would be dandy,” answered Grace. “What do you girls think?” turning towards them as she spoke.
“Why, I think it would be fine,” added Helen, “and—”
“But oh, Mrs. Van Vorst, it will destroy the grass on the lawn,” spoke up Nathalie doubtfully, “for our cheer fires always leave a blackened burnt place on the ground.”
“That will not make any difference,” was the prompt rejoinder from that lady. “Peter can rake it off and if necessary he can resod it. I shall only be delighted if you young girls can use it, and the favor will all be on my side—” her voice trembled slightly—“for it will give my little daughter so much pleasure.”
“Oh, Nita! you are walking, you will fall and hurt yourself!” exclaimed Nathalie excitedly, as she entered that young lady’s room the Monday after the Flag Drill, and found her walking about with a coolness and ease that she had never before seen her display.
Nita broke into merry laughter at the look of dismay on her friend’s face. “Of course I’m walking,the doctor says I can, so there!” There was a triumphant toss of her head at Nathalie.
“But you have never walked, that is not much since I have known you!” cried the puzzled girl.
“And you thought I never could,” replied the little lady independently. “Well, you are wrong. I used to walk when I felt able, sometimes quite a little. Then a crank of a doctor frightened Mamma to death by telling her I should always lie on my back or side, and for years I have been nailed like a mast to a ship on that couch. But Dr. Morrow says if I have the strength I should walk, and that my strength will come gradually. Oh, who knows what I can do? Walk off this old hump, I hope!”
“Oh, you dear thing!” cried Nathalie, rushing to her friend and giving her a squeeze. “Isn’t that just the loveliest thing? What nice times we can have after a while if you can walk, and Dr. Morrow, I always knew he was a dear!”
“There, don’t squeeze me to bits, but tell me all the things that have happened since the Flag Drill, and oh, Nathalie, your friends are dears. The one you call Grace is sweet, and the other one, why, she isn’t so pretty, but she looks a good sort.”
“She is something more than a ‘good sort,’” answered Nathalie swiftly, “she is a gem, she is so clever and sensible, and, oh, what a friend she has proved to me! She has a wonderful way of helpingyou over the hard places. But there, I will tell you what Grace said about you, she said you were a sweet little cherub—and—”
“Just arrived from angel land I suppose, with wings all sprouting,” ventured Nita sarcastically. “Well, she ought to see me when I’m mad. Cherub indeed! What did the other one say?”
Nathalie hesitated; her face flushed, “Oh—why, she thought you were a dear, but said you were a bit spoiled.”
Nita looked surprised for a minute; then her eyes flashed as she cried with a defiant lift of her head. “Well, I guess if Miss Sensible had a hump to carry about that could never be taken off, no matter how it hurt, and had to be shut up behind walls with nothing to see or any one to talk to, she’d be spoiled, too!” There was a quiver of the chin as the red lips closed tightly in the effort not to cry.
“Oh, you poor little thing, I should not have told you that, for really, Helen thought you were lovely!” Nathalie regretted with all her heart the impulse that had prompted her to tell the truth to Nita. It seemed unkind but it was really spoken in the hope of doing her little friend good.
But Nita pushed her away, “Oh, don’t pet me!” as Nathalie attempted to caress her, “I was only teasing. Yes, I know I’m spoiled, but there, do tell methe news, for your face shows that you are just dying to tell me something worth the hearing.”
“Well, yes, I havesomenews—that’s slang, but O dear, it does mean so much sometimes,” laughed Nathalie as she and Nita seated themselves on the couch. “Saturday we had a Pioneer Rally. Judge Benson, a friend of Dr. Morrow’s from the city, gave us a talk on self-government. He explained the difference between natural, spiritual, and civic law. He also explained the meaning of an ordinance, told us how justice was administered in the different courts, and how self-government, or the reform system is having its try-out in some of the prisons to-day. He says it bids fair to make criminals—men hardened in sin and crime—respectable members of a community.”
“Self-government?” queried mystified Nita, “why, the Pioneers are not citizens or criminals; you don’t have to be governed!”
“Yes, we do,” asserted Nathalie stoutly, “and so does everybody. Civic, natural, and spiritual laws are all right, but back of those laws is the law of self-government, that is the something within each one of us that makes us what we want to be, that makes us control ourselves even when we are babies, when we get slapped for being naughty. If there was no self-government in the world—for it is the government of self when we make ourselves obey the laws of God andman, when we cease evil and do the right—why, if there was no self-government we would all be savages without law and order.
“Judge Benson told us how self-government came to be used in the schools and prisons. Of course, as I said, we all have to govern ourselves in a measure, but it is the applying of this self-government in a new way that has done so much good.
“A very good man, he said, took some waifs from the poor settlements in New York to the country and tried to better them physically and morally by teaching them to be good. But of course, they would do wicked things and have to be punished, and he became very much discouraged because the punishments didn’t seem to do them any permanent good. So he thought for a long time and then he formed a Junior Republic, made all the boys and girls citizens, and then told them to appoint their own officials, that is, their own lawyers, judges, officers, and so on. Then when any of them did wrong they were haled into court and tried by their own comrades. Of course, they all became so interested in this new system of punishing—for you see, they all had a part in it—that they became wonderfully good. You see, the boys and girls had to learn to control themselves, for of course, they not only wanted to stand high in the court and be lawyers and judges themselves, but they did not like to be corrected and called down—that’s what the judge said—bytheir own comrades. This venture at making boys and girls learn to control themselves not only taught them self-denial, self-repression, self-development, and the difference between right and wrong, and their duty to themselves as well as to their companions, but it was the means of introducing the same system into the public schools, and in time into the prisons.”
“Yes, but I don’t understand how it interests you girls.”
“Why, Mrs. Morrow read so much about self-government and the good it did that she introduced it into the Pioneer organization, and it has worked wonderfully well there, Mrs. Morrow claims. Instead of a court we have a senate, which is composed of two girls from each bird group, elected by the girls. The Pioneers also elected a president, that’s Helen, and a vice-president, she’s an Oriole girl and quite clever, too. Jessie Ford is the secretary, and Mrs. Morrow is the Advisory Judge and has the power to veto any ruling of the president, but she never has as yet.
“So you see what it does for the Pioneers, for if any member of the organization breaks a law or does anything wrong she is brought before the Senate. Every Pioneer served with an indictment to appear before the Senate has, of course, the right to choose one of the girls as a counsel, and when there are two girls implicated they both choose counsel. Then after the witnesses are all heard the lawyers sum up, and thecase goes to the Senate, who act as a jury and vote by ballot. The case can be appealed to the Advisory Judge; or an offender, by asking or showing contrition, can have her sentence lightened. You don’t know what fun it is, and then it helps to make us govern ourselves and teaches us law, too, in a small way, of course.”
“Well, I wish they’d try to punish that hateful Sport for using your idea, and to think she got all the credit for it! Why—”
“No, she didn’t,” laughed Nathalie with an odd little gleam in her eye, “for she was tried before the Senate Saturday.”
“Oh, Nathalie, you don’t mean it! Oh, I’m so glad!” cried Nita clapping her hands delightedly. “I do hope she got her deserts, the deceitful thing!”
“Well, I am afraid she got all that was coming to her, as Dick said.” Nathalie’s bright face sobered. “Nita, I was awfully sorry for her. It was so humiliating to have to face that Senate, oh, the girls just hate to be brought before it. I had to tell as a witness, about losing the Stunt, the librarian told of helping me get data and then helping me to look for it, and then how she saw Edith pick it up as it fell from under a book on the table.”
“Do tell me what they did to her!” Nita bent forward in curious excitement as she spoke.
“Poor thing! she had all her stars and badges ofmerit taken from her. Just think, she will have to begin all over again to win them! At first it was voted that she would have to go back and be a third-class Pioneer again, but I was so sorry that I pleaded for clemency, and so the sentence was lightened.
“You see, there is an awful lot of good in Edith, and I am never again going to say anything against her, she has been punished enough. And oh, Nita, Dorothy at the Rally received her third-class badge, and I received my badge for a second-class Pioneer. I’m going to work awfully hard while at camp, so as to qualify as a first-class Pioneer. But there, it is getting late and we shall have to stop talking and take up our reading on the ‘Pioneer Women of America.’”
Nita nodded, and in a few moments the two girls were busily engaged; Nita listening with the keenest attention while Nathalie read about the Dutch women who came from Holland and settled New York, little dreaming as she read that this lesson was to culminate in an event of the utmost importance to the Girl Pioneers of Westport.