Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer Part 6

"There, Jess," broke in Lillie Bell mischievously, "you needn't get profane over it."

"Of course they were grim and forbidding-looking," supplemented Kitty, "and-"

"And sanctimonious," added some one, "with their blue laws."

"Girls, you are all wrong," spoke up Helen, with a sort of call-you-down air, "it was the Connecticut elders who made the blue laws. The Pilgrims were sincere, earnest men. Remember what Mrs. Morrow said about them?"

There was a sudden silence for a moment, and then a faint voice was heard from the other end of the veranda. Every one p.r.i.c.ked up her ears and craned her neck to see who was speaking.

"Ye Stars! it is the Flower of the Family," whispered Edith; "what has come to her?"

The sweet, low voice went on slowly, perhaps a trifle unsteadily, "G.o.d sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain into the wilderness."

"Hooray for the Flower!" shouted some one, and then of course they all had to clap, while the editor-in-chief of the "Pioneer," who was sitting next to the speaker, jotted down this little saying with the air of an expert reporter.

"Now, do you suppose," went on Helen, "that these picked men-"

"This choice grain," corrected the Sport softly, who was trying hard to create a laugh.

"Edith, please be serious," admonished Helen, looking at that young lady with reproving eyes, but she was sitting with folded arms and eyes cast down, the picture of innocent and bland decorum.

Helen, seeing she had subdued the Sport for the time being, continued: "Yes, this choice grain was composed of not only sincere and courageous men, as we know, but the most tolerant of any of the first settlers in this country. But, of course, in serious, solemn times one is not apt to be funny. They were not really sanctimonious, they just got that name because they tried to live up to their convictions."

"But they got it!" retorted the Sport, who was always hard to convince in an argument. Helen flashed her eyes at her in rebuke, and then, turning toward Nathalie, said, "We are not only going to tell what we have learned about the Pilgrims at the rally, but we are to end with a Mayflower Feast. We do not expect to eat the things the colonists did, of course, but the table is to be decorated with May-flowers-that is with all the flowers that grow in May-so you see, it will really be a May-flower Feast."

"The Boy Scouts are going to pick the flowers for us!" chimed the Tike, her good-natured face beaming good-fellows.h.i.+p at Nathalie.

"Dr. Homer-he is Mrs. Morrow's brother-" supplemented Grace, "is the Scout Master of the Eagle Patrol, and as he is very anxious to make the boys chivalrous, he likes to have them help us all they can."

"But we are to have a great big entertainment," exclaimed Carol importantly, "very soon, and we're to sell tickets so that we can make money for the Camping Fund."

"And we have such a bright idea for getting up something novel in the way of entertainments," spoke up Helen interestedly. "Each girl is to put on her thinking-cap and get to work on an idea; it has to be original, nothing borrowed, or that has been used before, and then turn it in to our Director in proper shape to be carried out. All of these novel ideas are to be kept secret until we have had all of the entertainments, and then we shall vote for the one we think the best.

The winners will receive merit badges for their efficiency."

"Oh, that will be great!" cried Nathalie, "but tell me, where are you going camping?" she questioned animatedly, for her thoughts had instantly reverted to a summer or so before when she and a party of school girls had camped up in the woods of Maine.

"We don't know yet," was Helen's practical rejoinder, "for we have got to know how much money we shall have to spend. But come, girls, be serious and tell Nathalie some of our sports and activities. We want to show her that we can do things worth while, you know."

"Oh, get Lillie Bell to tell us one of her stories!" cried the Sport, who was a warm admirer of the story-teller.

"Oh, I can't think of any now!" replied Lillie lazily. And then as a chorus of voices seconded this plea, she cried, "Really girls, I can't.

I was up half the night studying for exam. But," her face brightened, "I will tell you about the picked chicken if you like. As it has something to do with our pioneer law, it will come in all right."

"Oh, yes, do!" pleaded her hostess, who had been wis.h.i.+ng that she might hear one of the story-teller's thrillers.

"It isn't a blood-curdler this time, Miss Page," apologized Lillie, "so I cannot give you an exhibition of my reputed talent as a fictionizer.

It is simply that Mother had a headache, Father was going to bring home a swell friend to dine with us, and as it happened, the butcher sent a feathered fowl, and our little Dutch maid was ill."

"Oh, it was maddening," she sighed in dolorous reminiscence, "but there was no way out of it, for we had to have that chick for dinner. So I set to work; some people say that when you try to do right everything rises up against you. So it proved to me, but I remembered our Pioneer motto, 'I Can,' and glued myself to that job. Verily, I thought that chicken must be a relative to the goose that laid the golden egg, for every feather I pulled, a dozen at least came to the funeral. But I won out, and went to bed with a clear conscience, and that fowl-inside of me!"

"Hooray for the Pioneer laws!" called several voices hilariously, and then at one and the same time, in their eagerness to give proof of well-doing, each one started to relate some personal experience. The effect of several story-tellers spinning yarns at the same time was so ludicrously funny that all the stories ended in merry laughter.

"Oh, let's vary the entertainment," suggested Grace, "and sing our Pioneer song for Miss Page."

In another moment the fresh young voices, accompanied by a swing of heads and a tap of feet, were singing, to the tune of "Oh, Maryland, My Maryland":

"We laugh, we sing, we jump, we run, We're Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!

We're always having lots of fun; We're Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!

The wild birds answer to our call, These feathered friends in trees so tall; We learn to know them one and all.

We're Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!

Refrain.

We're Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!

We're Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!

We will be brave, and kind, and true; We're Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!"

Nathalie, who was enjoying this musical treat immensely, and longed to join in, suddenly gave a start. She had heard a familiar hand strike the keyboard of the piano, and then start in with the tune the girls were singing, while a clear, high, soprano voice-one that the girl had never heard before-took up the air, and in a moment was leading the girls in their song, and as though accustomed to do it.

She saw one or two of the girls smile at another in a mysterious way, and began to wonder what it all meant. As the last verse came to a close, and there were three, Mrs. Page stepped through the low French window from the living-room on the veranda, followed by a figure in white and d.i.c.k, who was hobbling along on a broom turned upside down.

There was a silent moment, and then the Girl Pioneers had jumped to their feet and were saluting the lady in white, for it was Mrs. Morrow, their Director. No, they did not touch their shoulders as in the salute to Helen, their group leader, but the forehead, in military salute.

Mrs. Morrow returned the salute, and then, as the girls broke into their Pioneer yell, came over to Nathalie without waiting for an introduction.

But the young hostess had risen to her feet and was standing with outstretched hand.

"Oh, my dear! you must sit down, or you may strain your foot!" cried Mrs. Morrow anxiously, as she caught Nathalie's hand in hers and smiled down at her with luminous gray eyes, the kind that seem to radiate hearty good-will and cheer. Her greeting was so gracious, and there was such an undefinable charm in the bright face of the young matron, that Nathalie surrendered immediately.

"I did not mean to intrude on your sport, girls," cried Mrs. Morrow in a moment, turning toward the group, still holding Nathalie's hand, "but I was as anxious as you all were to meet our new neighbor."

The color deepened in Nathalie's cheeks as she cried in her impulsive way, "Oh, but you are not intruding at all, Mrs. Morrow; I am more than anxious to meet you, for-" she stopped a moment, and then flashed, "the girls all say you are lovely!"

There was a wild cheer at this, whereupon, the gray-blue eyes smiled at Nathalie again. Then turning, the lady nodded to the compliments so boisterously expressed by the girls. For a few moments it seemed as if each girl was trying to outdo every other girl as to who should win in this race for tongue speed, as they crowded around Nathalie and their Director.

Presently Nathalie looked up and laughed, for d.i.c.k did look so funny as he hobbled from one girl to another-he had always been a lover of girls-on his broomstick. As if divining why she laughed, d.i.c.k, who had heard her looked up. "h.e.l.lo there, Blue Robin!" he cried teasingly, "what have you got to say about it?"

"Blue Robin?" repeated Mrs. Morrow in puzzled query, turning towards Nathalie, "why does he call you Blue Robin? That is the name of this group."

"But I thought the name of this group was Bluebird," answered Nathalie in some surprise.

"So it is," returned Mrs. Morrow, "but you know, bluebird means blue robin, too."

"There, d.i.c.k! I was not so far wrong after all!" cried Nathalie triumphantly, looking at her brother with convincing eyes. Then she turned and quickly told how she had found the bluebird's nest in the old cedar, how she had called the birdlings blue robins, and how d.i.c.k-who was a terrible tease-had plagued her about it ever since.

"But please inform me, Mrs. Morrow," now spoke that young man, "why you say bluebirds are blue robins?"

"Why, you know, the first bird seen by the Pilgrims when they came to this land was a bluebird-our earliest songster. As it resembled the robin so much, they wrote home to their friends and told of the beautiful blue robins they had seen in the new land."

"Oh, Nathalie," cried Helen with joy in her voice, "do you know the finding of the blue robin's nest surely must be an omen for good! Keep the name your brother has given you, and become a real bluebird, or blue robin, by joining our group and becoming a Pioneer!"