Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer Part 10

But, girls-" she ended abruptly, dropping her matronly pose, "have you seen Edith-she was to be Helen Billington-I never knew her to be so late before?"

"There! that accounts for the aching void in my heart, I know I missed some one," cried Jessie half mockingly. "O dear, what will become of my Pioneer article if the Sport does not appear?" The girls all laughed in appreciation of Jessie's serio-comic declaration, for it was generally conceded that Edith was the most active spirit of the band, as her sporting proclivities, her general good-nature, and her das.h.i.+ng escapades always furnished plenty of "copy" when any of their various hikes or demonstrations were in progress.

"Oh, don't fret; a bad penny always turns up!" chimed in Kitty, who did not particularly admire the Sport.

"I'll bet you a cookie that she has been arrested for appearing in disorderly apparel on the street," observed Grace roguishly; "for she told me she was going to dress at home."

"Oh, girls, aren't you ready?" at this instant asked Louise Gaynor, suddenly appearing in the doorway leading to the room where Mrs. Morrow, as Mistress Carver, the Governor's lady, was waiting to receive them.

"Her Sweet Graciousness, Mistress Carver, waits for you without in the Common House."

"Modest and simple and sweet, the very type of Priscilla, Priscilla, the Mayflower of Plymouth!"

Thus hummed Lillie as she walked around this winsome representation of that Puritan maiden, surveying her critically, but with approving eye.

"Oh, you're just too sweet for anything!" warbled another bluebird, "you're-"

"You're too sweet to have to do your own proposing, methinks," broke in Jessie, touching one of the long golden braids that fell from beneath the demure little cap of this first edition of women's rights.

But at sweet Priscilla's gentle reminder that the first lady of the land should not be kept waiting, the merry girls ceased their chatter, did their best to a.s.sume the decorous manners of the Puritan women, filed into line, and were soon in the adjoining room.

Here they were greeted by Dame Brewster, the Elder's wife, no other than Helen, who, in ruffled cap and quaintly flowered gown, excelled even her own aspirations to appear like that motherly dame, as in speech of quaint wording she made each Mayflower damsel known to Mistress Carver.

After the greetings had been voiced, the first surprise came, and that was when the Tike came bounding into the midst of the gentle dames and informed them that a cheer fire was blazing on the gra.s.s-plot in the rear of the Hall. The Pioneers in profound wonder-as they had not expected to have a cheer fire-followed Mistress Carver to the garden, where a circle was formed around this magic inspirer of cheer, whose burning f.a.gots snapped and crackled noisily, as if to do its share in the old-time celebration. It was in memory, Grace declared, of the many fires that had cheered the settlers in the cold and desolation of the new world.

Murmurs of wonder and queries about this mysterious surprise were silenced, as some one started a general clapping, a recognition often accorded the Pioneers' cheer star. Then, as they gathered around the flaming light, some one suggested that perhaps the Governor's lady could tell as to who was the magic fire-maker.

The lady in question, although disclaiming that she knew who lighted the magic inspirer, did finally admit that she could guess who had done it, but as that was a privilege that every one had, she had nothing to tell.

However, the mystery remained unsolved, although some bright one ventured to suggest that it might have been the Sport, who was still missing, as she delighted to do the unexpected.

Immediately the missing Pioneer began to be eulogized for her clever and mysterious absence, as these representatives of hundreds of years ago circled about their emblem of cheer and romance. To usher in the first ceremony, or, as the girls sometimes called it "the christening of the blazer," some one called for the story-teller to give one of her thrillers. This cry was forthwith taken up by the little company, and became so imperative that Lillie at last complied with the request, and in a few moments was telling, in her usual impressive way, the story of those pioneers, the Pilgrim men and women, who fought the first battle for liberty and union on the sh.o.r.es of this land.

When Lillie's story came to an end, she received her usual applause, for every one had listened with the closest attention to the account of the many pilgrimages of these simple folk from the northeastern countries of England. In trying to serve G.o.d as they deemed right they had separated themselves from the English church and had begun to hold little meetings in the village of Scrooby. Hounded by the authorities they finally sailed to the low countries, which at that time were considered a place of refuge for the oppressed of all nations. They lived one year in Amsterdam, meeting for wors.h.i.+p near a convent, whose sweet chimes called them to a low-ceiled room, where they sung their songs of praise and read G.o.d's word.

But their wanderings were not over, and a year later they sailed on one of the great waterways of this Dutch land to Leyden. Here they remained twelve years in twenty-three humble little homes, built on a plot of ground known as the _Koltsteeg_, and called Bell Alley, just across the way from the great dome of St. Peter's church.

Here in this land of foreign tongue their children grew up, learned their trades and, alas, many of the ways of these people, especially their methods of keeping the Sabbath, which were contrary to the beliefs of these G.o.d-loving people. It was for this reason as well as for others, that they started forth on their wanderings again, and migrated to the new land across the sea, sailing in the _Mayflower_ on the twenty-second of July, 1620.

Nathalie was somewhat disappointed in the beginning, that she was not to hear one of Lillie's twentieth-century thrillers, but the story of the Pilgrims was so interesting that she felt amply repaid for her disappointment. Although familiar with their story in this land, she had never heard much about the lives of these founders before they came to America.

The tale of these ancient folk was rendered even more interesting by various interruptions at intervals, as when Dame Brewster read, in solemn tone, the Const.i.tution formed by these people in the cabin of the _Mayflower_, said to have been written on an old chest, and known as The Compact, the first stone in the American Commonwealth.

The Governor's lady enlivened the tedious voyage over by telling of several little incidents that had occurred; one was when the _Mayflower_ during a severe storm was saved from going to the bottom by some one wedging a _kracht_, or jackscrew, in a leak that had suddenly sprung amids.h.i.+ps.

Little Humility Cooper, one of the children of the _Mayflower_ voyagers, an Oriole Pioneer, recited Mrs. Heman's "Landing of the Pilgrims," while sprightly Mary Chilton told of her race with John Alden to be the first one of the little company to step on Plymouth Rock. She added to the interest of this recital by giving a short account of this historical granite from the day it served as a foundation stone of her victory until the present time.

A Bob White told about the first American washday, and the fun the children had gathering sweet juniper boughs to build the fires, over which hung the tripod from which was suspended the kettles of that historic occasion.

Louise Gaynor, as Priscilla, recited parts of Longfellow's poem, "The Courts.h.i.+p of Myles Standish," with its picturesque account of the most romantic happening of the little town, while as Mistress Fuller, Barbara described Fort Hill and told about Captain Standish and his sixteen valiant men-at-arms who explored the hills and woods of the wilderness.

Kitty Corwin, as another Pilgrim dame, told of the erection of the seven little houses with their thatched roofs, built in a row on First, or Leyden Street, giving a rather exciting account of the many serious accidents that happened to the Common House where the stores and ammunition of the community were stored. And so, in picturesque detail, each feature of the story was brought forth to form in the minds of these twentieth century Pioneers a picture that would last through the years that were to follow, and help them gain an insight into the characters they were representing.

Elizabeth Winslow, the first wife of the first American statesman, one of the first to pa.s.s away in the fatal sickness of that lonely winter; Mrs. Hopkins, who won fame as the mother of the boy Ocea.n.u.s, born on the _Mayflower_; Bridget Fuller, the wife of the genial Dr. Fuller, and others, were all impersonated by some one of the Pioneers.

Even the ghosts, as Grace dubbed them, were heard from: Myles Standish's first wife, known as the beautiful English Rose, who died soon after reaching the new land, and Dorothy Bradford, the young wife of William Bradford, who came to her death by falling overboard while her husband was exploring the sh.o.r.es with Captain Standish and his men.

By the time the story with its variations had been told, the girls, tired of posing with old-time stiffness and ceremony, were all laughing merrily as some one of the band suddenly spied some comical or grotesque aspect of the impersonator, when the Tike screamed shrilly, "Oh, who is that?" pointing to a black-draped figure standing in the doorway of the hall, with red, perspiring face, hat c.o.c.ked on one side, and a generally bedraggled appearance.

It was the missing Pioneer, Edith, who, after the hubbub had subsided as to her untimely appearance and tardy arrival, pulled off her long black cloak and threw herself on the gra.s.s by the side of Lillie. With gasps and sundry emphasizing shrieks she told what had befallen her on the way to the Rally.

"Father was ill last night, so the first thing this morning I had to go for the doctor. Then as mother was busy attending to Father I had to get the youngsters ready,-they were going to a May picnic, for of course,"

Edith added petulantly, "no matter what happened to me, Mother would not have the kiddies disappointed."

Catching Mrs. Morrow's reproving eye, she stammered apologetically, "Of course, I would not have them disappointed myself-they are dears-but it lost me my morning; and then, just as I was hurrying by the gray house,-oh, girls-" dropping her voice to a tense whisper, "what do you think I heard?"

CHAPTER VII-THE MAYFLOWER FEAST

The tenseness of Edith's tone, coupled with her mysterious manner, had the desired effect, and the Pioneers all bent forward eagerly with expectant eyes, anxious to hear what she had seen and heard, while some too impetuous one called out, "Oh, do hurry and tell us what it was!"

"It was the most terrible shriek I ever heard," answered Edith, with a long-drawn sigh. Having succeeded in getting her audience where she wanted them she was anxious to prolong her triumph. "Why, my heart jumped into my mouth, and I-"

"Where did the noise come from?" inquired practical Helen impatiently, who never wasted any time in getting wrought up, as she called it, by the Sport's yarns.

"It came from the garden of the gray house," was the quick retort; and then, crossly, "I do wish, Helen, you would wait-you'll spoil the whole thing if you don't let me tell it properly."

Grace, who had been listening intently to the Sport's recital, looked up quickly and encountered a glance from Nathalie's eyes as she suddenly turned from Edith and looked across the circle at Grace to see if she had heard. But Grace, whose memory was still rankling with her adventure at the gray house, was afraid that if the girls knew they would plague her unmercifully for being a runaway, and hastily put her hand on her lips in warning not to tell what had happened to them.

Nathalie nodded loyally and then turned to hear Edith repeat, "Yes, the noise came from the garden of the gray house, I have always told you there was something queer about that place. At first I started to run away, and then I thought, 'O pshaw! whatever it is, it won't hurt me behind those high walls.' So I walked close up to the wall near one corner to see if I could not manage to climb up in some way and look into the garden. I had just spied a tiny hole in the lower part of the wall-I guess some boys had made it, you know they are always spying about that place, anyway-when I heard loud breathing. I looked up and saw a man creeping stealthily around the corner of the wall, as if dodging some one. Well, I just gave one look at him, he had great black, burning kind of eyes, staring out of a face as white as a corpse. He suddenly spied me, and by the uncanny glare he gave I knew right off he was the one who had been shrieking, he was the crazy man who lives there! Great guns! but I didn't wait to take another look, I took to my heels and flew. Then I heard steps thumping behind me-looked back-oh, girls," she shrieked hysterically, "he was chasing me, running after me as hard as he could!"

She gulped, and then with a gasp continued, "Oh, for a moment I thought I was doomed, but-well-you know I can run, and I did, for my life. I ran every step of the way here-and-oh, I'm so hungry! Have you had the feast yet?"

"What became of the man?" inquired Helen tersely.

"Oh, yes, what became of him?" added one or two others.

"I don't know and I don't care," a.s.serted Miss Edith carelessly. "All I know is that he is as crazy as a loon, and that he lives in the gray house."

"Edith," exclaimed Mrs. Morrow sharply, "as long as you did not see the man come from the gray house do not say he lives there; and as for saying he is crazy, that is absurd. That is just an idle report; do not repeat it until you have proof that what you say is correct. He was probably a tramp, and may have been chased from the garden by one of the servants." Mrs. Morrow's face showed keenly her annoyance and disbelief in Edith's surmise.

"But what could the screams have been?" asked Helen, wonderingly, "if they really came from the garden?"

"Oh, I am sure they did," a.s.serted the Sport positively, "for I have heard other people say that they have heard queer noises coming from that place. But girls," she exclaimed, as if anxious to dismiss the subject, "do tell me what you have been doing. Oh, I did so hate to miss all the fun."

"Yes, kiddie, it is too bad," consoled Lillie, putting her arm around her friend, "but we have not had the feast yet, we've just been listening to little stories about the Pilgrims-you know you heard me read my story the other day-" she stopped abruptly, for a sudden rustling in a clump of trees back of the garden had caused every one to turn and peer apprehensively over their shoulders.