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.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 49098
   :PG.Title: Larkspur
   :PG.Released: 2015-05-31
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: Jane \D. Abbott
   :DC.Title: Larkspur
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1919
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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LARKSPUR
========

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      LARKSPUR

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      BY

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      JANE D. ABBOTT

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      AUTHOR OF
      HAPPY HOUSE,
      KEINETH, ETC.

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      GROSSET & DUNLAP
      PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

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      Made in the United States of America

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      COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

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      PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

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      TO THE FLOWERS OF MY OWN
      GARDEN I DEDICATE THIS STORY

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   CONTENTS

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   CHAPTER

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I.  `An October Day`_
II.  `The Captain's Story`_
III.  `Renée Finds a Home`_
IV.  `Gardens`_
V.  `First Aid`_
VI.  `Eagles and Golden Eaglets`_
VII.  `Aunt Pen Plans`_
VIII.  `Breadwinners`_
IX.  `The New Lodger`_
X.  `A Scout's Honor`_
XI.  `Young Wings`_
XII.  `The Game`_
XIII.  `The Christmas Party`_
XIV.  `Hill-top`_
XV.  `Pat's Pride and Its Fall`_
XVI.  `Good Turns`_
XVII.  `Angeline`_
XVIII.  `For His Country`_
XIX.  `A Letter From France`_
XX.  `The Lost Baby`_
XXI.  `Renée's Box`_
XXII.  `Surprises`_
XXIII.  `The Best of All`_





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.. _`AN OCTOBER DAY`:

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   LARKSPUR

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   CHAPTER I

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   AN OCTOBER DAY

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On an October day--a sunny day, and except
for the yellow leaves that quivered on rapidly
bearing branches, very like spring--Patricia Everett,
from the window of her home, watched an
automobile drive out of sight, carrying her mother and
sister away to Florida, and confided to the empty
room that she was the very unhappiest girl in the
whole world!

Conflicting emotions tormented the soul of the
little lady.  She disliked very much seeing anyone
depart from anywhere without her!  Then, too, so
hurried had been the departure that nothing in the
shape of candy, books or toys had been left behind
to comfort her!  And saddest of all, at the last
moment her mother had decided that she must not
return to Miss Prindle's because of an epidemic of
measles!

The curious quiet that had fallen upon the house
after the bustle of departure added to Patricia's
loneliness.  With a heart bursting with pity for
herself, she wandered up the stairs to her room--a
pretty room, its windows hung in flowered chintz,
a bird singing from a cage hanging in the sunshine.

When his little mistress walked into the room
Peter Pan trilled more gayly than before--it was as
though he bade her come to the window and look
across the way!

If she had looked she would have seen in the
kitchen window of the shabby brick house, across the
intersecting street, Mrs. Mary Quinn and her
daughter Sheila rocking in one another's arms and
laughing like two children!

Mrs. Quinn's house was old and shabby, its fences
tumbling down; hard times often knocked at her
door, but with it all her smile was always as bright
as the gay geraniums blooming on the spotless sill
of the kitchen window that faced the Everett house.

Fortune had come to the Quinns that day in
the guise of a new lodger.  He had taken the second
floor bedroom which stretched across the back of
the house.  Because this room was very big and
had a queer, rickety stairway leading to it from the
outside of the house, it had never been rented.  But
with the other lodgers who lived in the front rooms
and the tiny side bedroom and the parlor, which had
been converted into a "light housekeeping suite,"
Mrs. Quinn managed to keep her little family most
comfortably and to have a bit left over for such
luxuries as the flowers, a few books, pretty pictures
and crisp muslin curtains.

"Faith, Sheila," she had cried, coming into the
kitchen where her daughter was preparing apples
for the oven.  "It's just as though Dame Fortune
knew it was your birthday!  Now you shall have
your music!"

"Oh, mother!" cried the girl, dropping her
paring knife.  "How wonderful!"  Then, hesitating:
"But maybe I hadn't ought to!  That much each
week would make things easier if----"

But Mrs. Quinn snatched bowl, apples and knife
from her daughter's hands.  "Don't let's be
worrying over what's ahead, sweetness!  We'll just take
what comes!  Didn't I have my bit of music when
I was a girl and don't I know the longings that
are in you to have things that other girls have,
lassie?  It's a good daughter you are to me and it's
you that has always made the hard things easier----"  She
stopped suddenly as though something in her
throat choked the words.  For answer Sheila caught
the rough hands that knew only work now and kissed
them.

Then these two, arms around one another, the
bowl tipping dangerously between them, laughed
together as though there had never been a single
hardship in the world.

"We're two sillies--that's what we are!  Now
we must be about our work or the gentleman will
come and the room won't be ready!"

"Who is he, mother?"

"Sure, child, and I scarcely asked him!  His
name is Marks and he said he was employed at the
Everett Works.  I only thought of you, dearie!
After supper you run over and see Miss Sheehan
about the lessons; two a week--and we'll have a man
come to tune up the old piano and we'll just pull
it out here where it will be warm and where I can
listen to you!"

So their work--and there was much for their
quick fingers to do before the room could be put in
readiness for the new tenant and the supper prepared
for the younger Quinns, would be made lighter by
their happy plans!

But Patricia was too miserable to even glance
across at the window where the pink geraniums
bloomed.  She did not want to think that there was
anyone happy anywhere in the world.

Sighing deeply she curled herself on her bed,
drew from underneath her pillow her beloved diary
and wrote upon its open page:

"This is such a cruel, sad moment in my life
that I must write about it although it is too bad to
put it in my nice diary."  (Monthly she and Angeline
Snow, her dearest friend at Miss Prindle's,
exchanged diaries.)  "I have been left alone here
by a fond but heartless mother and sister who thinks
only of herself and her troubles and my father is
here at home and he is left, too, only of course my
father is a man and he has his business.  But the
very worst of all because they are afraid of measles
and Cis says my hair will come out and that it will
never be thick like hers anyway though I remember
you and I said that we hated thick hair when it was
yellow like hers they will not let me go back to my
dear Prindles and so I am a prisoner in a gilded cage.
My Aunt Pen is coming to live with us while my
mother is away and I love her and she always lets me
do everything I want to do but she is not like you
or the other girls at school.  And though I have
lived here many summers as the poets say, I have no
friends because there are only the children I used
to meet at silly parties and my mother's friends
who are polite and stupid and I shall pine with
loneliness.  It is all Celia's fault though mother says she
is very ill and that she has worn herself out doing
war work and she looked very pail and interesting
and I guess maybe she worried when Lieut Chauncey
Merideth fell out of his airplane but I guess he'll
be more careful next time.  You remember I never
liked him though when he comes back from war
though he is only in Texas I guess he'll treat me
a little different for he will realise I am almost
fourteen if he comes back in time and does not fall
out again.  I do love my mother but she has been
most heartless leaving me sad and lonely and with
nothing to do.  But as old English Sparrow says
there is always work for idle hands to do and I shall
find something so as to write to you all about it.  I
am too old to spend my hours repining.  I remember
the words of E. Sparrow how we are captains of our
souls and I shall keep saying that in my loneliness.
I guess now I will go down and order the dessert for
dinner----"

This sudden thought so comforted Patricia that
she closed her diary quickly, put it back under the
pillow, slipped off the bed and ran downstairs to
the kitchen.

She found that Melodia, the cook, had already
prepared mince tarts for dinner.  They were spread
temptingly upon a shelf.  Patricia tasted one and
immediately ordered Melodia to make nothing but
mince tarts for dessert during her mother's absence!
Perched on a stool Patricia asked several questions
concerning the pleasant odors that came from the big
oven.  But Melodia seemed to be very indifferent
as to the importance of her presence in the kitchen;
Patricia was glad to remember that she had promised
her mother to carry a report to the Red Cross
Headquarters that very afternoon.  So, slipping off her
stool she stalked majestically away.

Now almost at the same moment that Sheila and
Mrs. Quinn were laughing in their kitchen over their
wonderful fortune and lonely Patricia was cheering
her heart by tasting mince tarts, kind-hearted
Mrs. Atherton, the official in charge at the Red Cross
Headquarters on this October day, was wrinkling
her pretty brows over an unusual situation.

Before her, watching her face anxiously, stood a
man in the uniform of a captain of the United States Army.

"Perhaps I acted too hastily--bringing the child
here, to leave on your hands, but--you can see how
it happened; I'd given my word to that boy to take
care of his little sister.  If you could have known
him!  Why, there wasn't a fellow in my company
that wouldn't have given up his life for him!  They
didn't need to--he did it first!"  Capt. Allan's
voice broke.  "I got my orders back to the States
and I just had time to go and find Renée."

"Wouldn't it have been better if you had left her
somewhere in Paris?"

"You see you don't know the whole story,
madam.  This Emile LaDue was in the French
uniform but he was sort of an American.  And that
was my promise--that I'd bring her back to
America--somewhere.  He didn't have time to say anything
more--he gave me the address when we were in a
shell hole waiting until it was dark enough to creep
over to the enemy lines.  We went out a few seconds
afterwards--crawling along on our stomachs, he
one way, I another.  I--never saw him again."

Mrs. Atherton openly wiped her eyes.

The soldier went on: "I'd keep the little girl--just
because I loved Emile LaDue, but I haven't any
folks or any place to leave her and I have to report
back over there!  When I'm home for good----"

"If Mrs. Everett was here I am sure we could
arrange something, but she is out of town."

It was at that moment that Patricia walked past
the open door on her way from the Secretary's office
where she had left her mother's report.  Mrs. Atherton's
rather high-pitched voice reached her ear.  She
stood quite still.

"The child would make any home happy--she's
a dear little thing!  Has plenty of clothes, I guess,
but right now more than anything else she needs
friends and love--quite a bit of that."

"A baby!" thought Patricia excitedly; "a war
orphan!"

Patricia's mother had already adopted six French
orphans; Patricia and her classmates at school were
supporting several Belgian families and Celia was
a godmother to ever so many disabled French
soldiers.  That all meant only sending money away just
so often, but this was quite different--the baby was
right here!  Patricia had no time to think just what
her mother might do in such a case!  There was an
offended tone in the man's voice as though he might
take his war-orphan and go away and not come back!
So she walked straight into the room.

"Mrs. Atherton, I will take this child immediately."

Both Mrs. Atherton and the captain gasped at
the sudden appearance of Patricia.  Patricia, seeing
doubt in Mrs. Atherton's eyes, turned to the soldier.

"My mother is away, but if you will bring
the--the baby to my home I will ask my father, and I
know he will let her stay!"

Mrs. Atherton hurriedly explained.  "This is
Miss Patricia Everett, the daughter of the lady of
whom I was speaking.  Perhaps----" she hesitated.
She was thinking rapidly--something, of course,
must be done with the child!  "This might solve our
problem--until you return and wish to make other
arrangements."

"Oh *please* bring her," cried Patricia in quite
her natural manner.  "I can't go back to school
because of the measles there and I'd lose my hair
and I am dreadfully lonesome, and I should *love*
a baby!  We'll go home and I'll send Watkins after
Daddy and then we'll tell him."

It sounded so logical that even Mrs. Atherton
nodded approvingly.

"Where is she?" asked Patricia, looking around
the room as though some corner might conceal a
bundle that would prove to be the little war-orphan.

"I left her outside, in the taxi.  I wanted to
find out what could be done."

"Well, let's hurry!" commanded Patricia, turning
toward the door.  "I know Daddy'll say yes, for
you see my mother and sister have ever so many
orphans and this will be mine and Daddy's."  She
was running eagerly ahead of Capt. Allan out of the
door and down the long flight of steps.

"Can she walk yet?" she whispered excitedly.

"I should say so!" he laughed, throwing open
the door of the taxicab.

And within Patricia beheld staring gravely at
her from a corner of the automobile, her small hands
clasped tightly in her lap, her pale face framed by
a wealth of golden hair that hung in soft curls over
her shabby coat--not the war-orphan she had
pictured, but a little girl of her own age!

"Miss Renée LaDue," the Captain said with a
sweeping gesture.  "And this young lady----" he
hesitated a moment, as though the name Mrs. Atherton
had spoken had slipped his mind.

Patricia, almost too astonished and too delighted
to make a sound, stammered:

"I'm Patricia Everett, but please, just call me Pat!"





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.. _`THE CAPTAIN'S STORY`:

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   CHAPTER II


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   THE CAPTAIN'S STORY

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Certain that some serious catastrophe must have
happened, Thomas Everett ran up the steps of his
house with the speed of a schoolboy.  Watkins, the
chauffeur, had found him at his office.

"Miss Pat, sir, says you are to hurry home at
once--that it is awfully important."  He had
repeated her exact words and even imitated her
imperative tone.

When Mr. Everett had anxiously asked him
"what had happened," he had shaken his head and
had said: "I don't know, sir, what it is, sir, but I'm
sure it is something because I've never seen Miss Pat
so excited!"

Patricia was awaiting her father in the hall.
There were not many things that she had ever wanted
that he had refused her--but then this was very
different and he might say "No!"  She greeted him
with a violent hug and, talking so fast that he could
not make out one word that she was saying, she
dragged him toward the library door.

"They're in there, Daddy, and oh, *please* do let
her stay!" she whispered.

Within the room Mr. Everett found a tall soldier
holding a shy little girl by the hand.  The officer
introduced himself with a word or two, and with the
same directness he had used in telling his story to
Mrs. Atherton, he now plunged straight to the point.

"I have brought this little girl from France.
She is one of--those many--who has lost everyone
and everything--through this war!"  He was trying
to choose his words carefully so as to spare the little
girl as much as he could.

Realizing his embarrassment Mr. Everett interrupted
him.  "Pat, dear, take the little girl and show
her the birds."  Patricia, rather reluctantly led the
little stranger off to the small conservatory beyond
the dining-room where, in beautiful cages, many
different kinds of birds sang joyously.

"Thanks, sir," the officer drew a breath.  "Taking
care of this small lady has been the most difficult
thing I ever attempted.  I'll tell you the story, sir,
so that you can understand.  About six months ago
a young French officer was attached to our company.
He directed the scouting.  There were six of us
picked out to work with him.  I was one of them.
We did some mighty ticklish work, sir--for a few
weeks there."  Almost involuntarily the man's
fingers went to the small cross of honor he wore on
his tunic.  "And we fellows get pretty well
acquainted, you know--just lying hours in a shell
hole next to another man is like knowing him for
years and years back home.  It was like that with this
Emile LaDue and me.  I found out that his father
and mother had been born in America--they were
both dead, for one night he told me that if anything
happened to him--and there was plenty of chance
for something to happen any minute--it would leave
his little sister all alone in the world.  He never talked
much about himself--back in the lines he was the
bravest, cheeriest one in the crowd, laughing at every
sort of hardship, but when we'd get out he'd get quiet
and I knew what was on his mind.  He'd tell little
things at different times.  It seems he'd made a
promise to his mother that he'd bring the little girl
to America to live--and he'd kept putting it off, and
then the war came along and he thought it might be
too late!  That bothered him more than anything
else.  The last night I was with him we were hiding
in a dirty hole--four of us--almost covered with
mud and water.  He and I lay close together; we
could only whisper, for some of the Boche had seen
us and we had to keep low until it was darker.  We'd
been there for hours, not more'n just breathing when
he whispered suddenly in my ear: 'Allan, I may
not come out of this--and you may.  Will you----'  You
know some of the boys over there have premonitions
and they're pretty nearly always true and I
suppose he had one!  I knew what he wanted to say,
and he'd been the bravest and best pal a man could
ever find and we'd faced death a hundred times, side
by side, and he'd never flunked once, so I whispered:
'Don't you worry--just tell me where I can find
your little sister.'  He twisted around until he could
get a hand into his pocket.  He gave me a card.
He said: 'She's all alone in the world!  Take her
back to America--I didn't make good!  All her life
my mother planned that and when she died I promised
to do it!'  He tried to tell me something about
a box, but a star shell burst right next to us and we
had to dig down into the mud and we scarcely
breathed for fear the Boche snipers would hear
us!"  Capt. Allan's voice, halting through the story as
though it hurt him to recall the bitter memories,
suddenly broke.

"Just after that we crawled out--we had to do
our job and get back with the stuff the Colonel
wanted to know!  We divided up--two of us went
one way and two the other.  I got over and through
and back to our lines with the information and I
won this"--touching his cross--"and got a sniper's
bullet in the shoulder.  I was put out of business
then--for three weeks."  He stopped again--it was
very hard for him to tell his tale.  Mr. Everett was
giving occasional nods of sympathy.

"When I got back to my company they told me
the Jerries had caught LaDue!  He had almost
gotten away when he was killed by a hand grenade.  The
other man with him was made a prisoner.  The boys
found LaDue when they advanced--they buried him
out there with a lot of others!  That was always
the worst, sir--these good pals that you'd messed
with and bunked with under the same muddy blankets
and lived with through hours and hours of waiting
for no one ever knew what--and then--just flesh and
bones out in that desolation and buried--any old
place----"  He pulled himself together.  "Excuse
me, sir--I loved the boy--I'd have liked to have
just said--oh, good luck, old chap--or something
like that!  Well, I asked for a furlough to hunt up
the little sister and what did they do but order me
back to the States on a special mission to the
Intelligence Department.  I had just twenty-four hours to
find the child.  I had no trouble, though--she was
at the address out in St. Cloud, living with a queer
old couple--the man was a veteran of the Franco-Prussian
war and the wife raises flowers--only no
one in France is buying flowers now!  I suppose
they were all living on what Emile was sending to
them.  They didn't want to let the child go--I think
they were truly fond of her, but when I told them
what I had promised Emile they never said another
word.  I had to break it to them that he had been
killed!  I was afraid of Renée crying and wondering
how I'd comfort her and then I wished that she
*would* cry!  She was such a pathetic little thing--all
she'd say was 'He told me it would be for
America and France!'  I tell you, sir, even the little
ones are as brave as any!"

"Well, old Susette packed her clothes and I
started back with her, though I hadn't the ghost of
an idea where to take her!  I haven't a home or any
folks of my own, sir, but I said to myself--there's
the Red Cross, they'll tell me!  I had come to this
town first, sir, so I just brought her along with me
and--here we are!"  He laughed ruefully.  "I
guess I didn't think the thing out very much!  Over
there, you know, homes are smashed up in a twinkling,
and so many kiddies--like this little one--are
left along by the wayside, that you don't stop to think
but just gather 'em in!  Our boys can't stand seeing
the children suffer, sir--why, I've watched many
a one just turn his whole mess right over to a bunch
of kids--they're so hungry looking."  He paused
for a moment.  "That's all, sir, and if you can find
a place for Renée to live where she'll be safe
and--happy, I'll gladly give half my pay and take her
when I come back!"

The story of Renée LaDue finished, the officer
stood very straight and looked anxiously at his
listener.

Often during the story Mr. Everett had brushed
something suspiciously like tears from his eyes.  He
rose quickly now and held out his hand.

"With what you boys are doing--and giving up--there
isn't anything we who have to stay at home
could refuse to do!  Renée shall be taken care of--I
promise you that!  Nothing must be said about
money.  When the war is over and you return--then
you shall come and claim her if you wish!"

The soldier's face beamed with pleasure.

"Oh, sir, that is splendid!  You can't imagine
how responsible I feel about my promise to
Emile--or what a fine chap he was!"

Mr. Everett took a notebook and a pencil from
his pocket.

"Please give me some of the facts concerning
this child," he said in a business-like manner.

As Capt. Allan repeated them he entered each in
the little book.

"And you know nothing more concerning Emile's family?"

"Only a little more--back in the hospital I talked
with a French surgeon who had known Emile's
father.  He said he had been a sculptor--until he
grew blind.  I imagine they were very poor.  The
doctor said that Emile had been studying, too--in
Paris.  I remembered he had said something once to
me that had made me think he was just waiting to
finish his studies to keep his promise to his
mother--to come to America to live!"

Thomas Everett shook his head.  "Oh, what this
war has done!  The boy was doubtless gifted!"  He
sighed deeply.  "When it is possible go to Paris
and, for the child's sake, find out all you can of her
family.  In the meantime----"

But at this point Patricia, too impatient to longer
await her father's decision, burst into the room!





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.. _`RENÉE FINDS A HOME`:

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   CHAPTER III


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   RENÉE FINDS A HOME

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At her first introduction in the taxi-cab Patricia
had undertaken to converse with Miss Renée in the
stilted French she had learned at Miss Prindle's.
But Renée had answered in perfect English.

Now, with the singing of the birds to tune their
voices to a happy note, with the pretty flowers
bringing a smile to Renée's sad little face, it was easy to
bridge over the formality of "getting acquainted."  Renée
exclaimed in delight over the birds and the
flowers and Pat rattled on like a small magpie, though
all the while straining her ears to catch a single
word or tone of her father's voice from the library.

She had her own way--sometimes a rather
naughty way--of getting what she wanted from
her family, but this was so different, and she wanted
it so very much that she felt very anxious and
uncertain!  So after she had waited what seemed
to her a very long time she abruptly led Renée back
to the library.  As they entered the room her father
held out both hands.  One took one of hers, with the
other he drew Renée close to him.

"My dear little girl, Capt. Allan is going to
leave you with us for a little while!  And I have
given him my promise that you shall be as safe and
happy as it is possible for us to make you----"  He
wanted to say a great deal more to make Renée feel
at home but Patricia interrupted him with a
tempestuous hug that almost swept him from his feet.

"Oh, you dear, dear Daddy!"  Then she threw
her arms around Renée's neck.  "Oh, I am so
happy!" she was crying over and over, as though
she had been the homeless one and Renée had taken
her in.

"Don't forget me, Miss Everett," the soldier
put in so comically that Patricia almost embraced
him, too!  Instead she shook both his hands delightedly.
As Renée turned to Capt. Allan her lips
trembled a little, for she had learned to love and trust
him and already looked upon him as her guardian.

"Just you be brave and happy, little sister!" he
said softly to her, "and as soon as I can I will come
back!"

Then he shook hands with each one of them and
Renée shyly kissed him.  Mr. Everett went with him
to the door.  Patricia, knowing how hard the parting
was for her little guest, seized her hand and dragged
her toward a door at the end of the big hall.

"Let's go and find Melodia!  I know something
she's got!"

Only a few moments before Melodia had been
telling the butler and the upstairs maid about "that
Miss Pat's giving her orders so comical" and they
were all laughing merrily over it when Miss Pat
burst in upon them, leading Renée by the hand.

"Melodia, I have a guest only she's going to
live with us!  Please make lots of tarts, and can't
Renée have just a little one now?  Jasper, carry
Miss Renée's trunk to my room--it's in the front
hall!  Maggie, please get a cot from the storeroom
and put it right next to my bed."  She turned toward
the pantry.  "I'll take some tarts now, Melodia, for
Miss Renée is hungry!  Don't all stand and stare
like that, but please do as I tell you!"  She helped
herself as she spoke to two of the juiciest of the
tempting tarts.

"Well, I never!" Jasper and Maggie and Melodia
all exclaimed.

Patricia turned with dignity.  "Miss Renée has
come from France.  She is a--a----"  She was
going to say "war-orphan" but suddenly it occurred
to her that that might make Renée unhappy.  So she
finished: "Her brother has died for us in France and
left her all alone!"  Patricia used an expression she
had heard often.  "You three and Daddy and me
have a debt to pay--and we are going to pay it!"

The three servants were deeply impressed by the
grandness of Patricia's words and manner; and,
too, Renée's sad little face won their hearts in an
instant.  Jasper coughed violently and hurried away
to find the trunk.  Melodia wiped her eye with the
corner of her apron.

"The dear little thing!  Well, we'll just make
you happy and put flesh on your bones, bless your
heart, missy!"

Patricia, satisfied that she had properly established
Renée in the household, then led her upstairs
to her own room.  Renée, accustomed to the tiny
chamber under the gable at St. Cloud, exclaimed with
admiration when Patricia opened the door.  Already
Jasper had put down the queer old trunk and was
busily engaged unfastening its buckles and straps.
Maggie was watching, much disturbed.

"Miss Pat, I wish your mother was home!  I
know she wouldn't want me to bring a cot in here
a-cluttering up the tidiness of your room when there's
the blue room and the violet room empty and that
room on the third floor----"

Alarmed that Maggie might separate them,
Patricia exclaimed quickly: "I don't--*care*!  We
*won't* make things untidy!  I *want* her in here!"

"What's all this about?" interrupted Mr. Everett,
coming at that moment to the door.

Patricia, Renée, Jasper and Maggie all turned to
him.  But Patricia, catching his coat, pulled him to
her so that, by reaching on tip-toe, she could
whisper in his ear:

"You see, Daddy, I want her right in here!
Maggie says that it will make things untidy but we
can't let her get homesick or--or unhappy, and
she might if she's left all alone in the blue room or
the vi'let room----"  Patricia rubbed her cheek
coaxingly against her father's shoulder, then added
solemnly: "I guess *I* know what it is to be lonesome,
for I have been lots and lots of times--just because
everyone was so grownup and I hadn't anyone to
be with like a little sister, and now--please, Daddy,
we will keep the room as neat as can be!"

Renée's eyes echoed Patricia's pleadings.

"Well, well, Maggie, we'll have to let them
decide things, I guess," he laughed, "at least until
Miss Penelope comes!"

In all the excitement Patricia had quite forgotten
the approaching arrival of Aunt Pen.

"Aunty Pen, Aunty Pen," she cried, catching
Renée's hands and, swinging her around.  "I'd
just clean forgotten she was coming!  You'll *love* her!"

Certainly little Renée had not time to be unhappy--each
moment seemed to bring something new!
While Patricia was explaining all about Aunty Pen
and why she was coming, and her story had, of
course, to include Celia and even the Lieut. Chauncey
Meredith and his fall from his airplane, Maggie,
scolding a little under her breath, was spreading
snowy sheets over a bed-lounge which Patricia had
drawn up close to her own little bed.

In the next moment, Aunt Pen again forgotten,
Patricia was tumbling her own possessions from one
of the drawers of the mahogany chest to make room
for the contents of Renée's little trunk.

"We'll just share everything," she cried.  "We'll
have just the same halves!  And let's hang up your
dresses now!"

Poor Renée did not need the generous space of
one-half of Patricia's wardrobe for her shabby
dresses--they were only four in number and sadly
worn!  But she hung them away proudly, telling
Patricia that no one in France now wore new things!

"Poor Susette used to spend hours mending my
clothes, trying to make them hold together," laughed
Renée, tenderly recalling her good old friend at
St. Cloud.

"Tell me all about her!"

So, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the
almost empty trunk, Renée described Susette and the
cottage at St. Cloud and the wonderful flowers that
had used to sell so well before the war, and the
school where she had gone after her mother had died;
how she and Emile always talked in English because
her mother had made them promise, and how in the
long, anxious, lonely days after Emile had gone, she
had used to teach simple English words to Susette
as they sat together among the flowers that nobody
wanted to buy!

From the bottom of the trunk Renée drew a box
covered with worn leather, tooled and colored like
the binding of a beautiful book.  So old was it that
the colors blended and looked all blue and gold and
green.  Renée lifted it tenderly, as though it was
precious!

"Oh, how queer and how be-*ut*-iful!" cried
Patricia, all admiration and curiosity.  "What do
you keep in it?"

Renée held the box very close to her.

"I don't know!  It was my mother's and now
it's Emile's and mine, or"--she carefully corrected
herself--"I suppose it's just mine.  But we don't
know what is in it for we never had the key!  My
mother died before she could tell Emile where it was!
And Emile made me promise before he went away
that I would keep the box and never let anyone open it!"

"And you haven't even the teeniest idea what is
in it?  Didn't you ever just shake it?"

"Oh, lots of times!" confessed Renée.  "But
nothing makes any noise.  And of course I would
keep my promise to Emile."

Patricia rocked back and forth on her heels in joy.

"Oh, what a *spliffy* mystery!  I can't wait to
write to the girls!"  Then she laughed at Renée's
bewilderment.  "Spliffy is a word we learned at
Miss Prindle's and it means scrumptious or delicious
or grand!  Don't you *love* a mystery?  And isn't
it the lov-li-est box?"

"Emile said it must have been made by some
Italian master years and years ago.  I have this
queer locket, too--it was my mother's," and from
a little bag, wrapped in folds and folds of tissue
paper, Renée drew a curious gold locket.  "It is
much too big to wear but I am very careful of
it--it is all I have!  I pretend that the box and the
locket both once upon a time belonged to some royal
prince in Venice!  Once, when I was little, mother
took Emile and me to Venice--she had been sick and
she had to go where the sun was warm!"

Patricia, who had always considered herself an
experienced and much traveled young lady,
suddenly felt very small and young compared to Renée
and all that she had done!

"Is Venice like the pictures--all colors like shells
and funny boats and people singing?"

But Renée had no chance to answer.  The doorbell
clanged and in a moment they heard a cheery
voice answering Mr. Everett's greeting.

"It's Aunt Pen--*come* on!" cried Patricia,
rushing headlong down the stairs.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`GARDENS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER IV


.. class:: center medium bold

   GARDENS

.. vspace:: 2

"I'm certainly very glad you've come, Penelope;
my family, which has so suddenly increased, is going
to need a guiding hand!"

Penelope Everett, called by some a "strong-minded
woman" because she had, since her college
days, worn low-heeled shoes, boyish coats, comfortable
hats and simple dresses, was Thomas Everett's
favorite sister.  Though many years younger than
he, there was a directness about her, a something in
the way she carried her head, poised squarely, that
made him feel he could put anything upon her
shoulders.

She gave a cheery laugh now in response to the
seriousness of his manner.

Patricia and Renée had long since gone to bed,
side by side.  Renée had cuddled down under the soft
coverings with a little sigh of content.  Very tired
with long days of travel she had dropped off to sleep
quickly, while Patricia's voice, pitched to a low tone,
had gone on in an endless account of "what we'll do
to-morrow!"  Aunt Pen, tiptoeing in a little later,
had found Patricia's hand clasping Renée's tightly
under the covers.

She recalled that now as she sat with her brother
before the library fire.

"Do you know, Thomas, you've done the most
wonderful thing in the world for Pat?"

Pat's father stared at her.  He had thought she
meant to praise him for taking in the lonely little
girl from France!

"Why--what do you mean?"

"Just this--Pat's going to have something now
that she's never had before--true comradeship!"

Thomas Everett nodded his head.  "That is so!
Pat said something queer to me, about being lonely
lots of times!"

"Of course she's been lonely--often!  She's
almost a stranger in her own home!  You whisk her
from school to the seashore or some such place and
then back--to another school!  And everything on
earth is done for her, she doesn't have to think of
anything for herself, let alone for anyone else!"

Pat's father laughed.  "Why, I thought we were
bringing her up along the most model lines!  But
perhaps you have some new fads now!"  He liked
to tease Penelope.

"Poor Pat has been the victim of too many fads
already!  I tell you, brother, this war has shown
us a whole lot of silly mistakes we were making
in our living!"

"Before you go one bit further, Penelope dear,
do promise to speak in words of one syllable!  I
know all about steel but I must admit I'm very stupid
about girls!"

"Thomas, you're not stupid--you just don't
think about them and yet your two girls are more
precious to you than the whole steel market!  And
what are you doing with them?  Look at Celia--how
has she stood the trials of this wartime?  Goodness
knows, you've spent enough money on her to have
made a strong woman of her!"

"But she's young, Pen----"

"Celia's twenty-one--that's the age they've been
drafting the boys to go and fight for us!  She's a
few years older than some who have died over in
France.  And now she's had a nervous breakdown!
Why in the world should Celia have any nerves at all?"

"You're right, Pen, but----"

"This draft we have had in this country has been
a wonderful thing; it has sorted out our manhood.
But I'm sorry the women couldn't have had it, too,
I wonder how many would have measured up to the
standards, and why not?  Because we older ones
make mistakes with the girls--like Pat!"

Penelope was standing now, very straight, before
the fire, her eyes bright in her earnestness.

"I tell you we've reached a wonderful day,
brother--we can see things as we never saw them
before!  Silly old prejudices and habits and notions
have been swept aside.  Do you know one thing
we've learned?  That it is something even greater
than love for one's country that has made men go
out and fight--to victory; it's a love for right and
justice!  And in one of John Randolph's books he
tells us that it is that love for right and justice
that will make the real brotherhood of men and
nations!  Who is going to carry on this ideal as
we have found it?  Why, our boys and girls--girls
like Pat!"

"Pen, your eloquence makes me feel as though
I had never known the real meaning of the word duty!"

"Oh, it isn't half so much--duty, Tom, as it is
plain common sense.  I've often thought that raising
girls and boys is something like a garden!  If you
were planning a garden and wanted to grow something
beautiful--oh, say larkspur, for I don't think
any garden is perfect without it and no flower is
harder to get started--wouldn't you want to know
that you were putting in seed that would grow into
hardy blossoms, blooming year after year, keeping
your garden lovely and the world richer for their
beauty?"

Penelope paused long enough to draw a deep breath.

"There at Miss Prindle's Pat is learning to speak
French and Latin and how to use her hands and feet
and walk out of a room properly and a dinner-table-speaking
acquaintance with art and the masters and
ancient history--and that's all very well, but how
much will she know of the problems she must face
by and by unless she begins to mingle with the sort
of people that make up this world?  And above all
else--unless you build up for her a strong body that
will mean a brave heart and a clear head, what
service, I ask you, can she give to her fellowmen and
her country?"

"You're certainly right, Pen!  And now, if
you've finished a very good sermon, let's get down to
business.  I take it you want to--raise larkspur!
I don't know much about 'em, even in gardens!  I've
left these things to the children's mother!"

Penelope dropped into a chair with a little,
ashamed laugh.

"My sermon does sound as though I was criticizing
Caroline dreadfully!  I know she is devoted to
the girls.  And so am I--and so are you.  She's
bringing them up just the way she was brought up!"

"Well, what shall *we* do?" asked Pat's father
with the tone of a conspirator.

"You've started doing right now the very best
thing in the world--bringing that poor little girl
into the family!  Patricia loves her already and she'll
learn for the first time to consider another child
before herself.  She's never had to do it before!
Why, to-night I found her carefully dividing her
clothes so that Renée might have just as many things
as she had."

"Does Renée need clothes?  I'll----"

"Now don't spoil it all by buying new things--let
Patricia give up some of her own!  It is making
her very happy.  Through Renée she is going to
know something of the trials that come to others and
she is going to learn to want to be helpful.  She has
gone to sleep now holding Renée's hand."

Both their minds turned to Renée.

"A curious tragedy--this, that has brought this
child into our circle!  Caroline might have made
some other arrangement, but Pat's heart was set upon
keeping her--and she *will* have her own way!"

"Pat's mother is too absorbed now in Celia to
think much about it and when she returns Renée
will win her love with her little face!  What a
story the child's life makes with just what we know!
The family must have been American--evidently
exiled; they loved this country, else why would the
mother have made the brother promise to come back?
I hope sometime we will know more about them!"

"Capt. Allan has promised to look them up as
soon as he can!"

"Captain Allan----"  Penelope breathed, her
face flaming, then turning white.  When her brother
had told her Renée's story, so intent had she been
upon the tragedy of little Renée and the poor Emile
that she had not heeded the name of the American
officer.

"Can it be the same?" she thought now, a wild
fluttering at her heart.  Then she sternly admonished
herself.  "Of course not!  Don't be silly!  There
are hundreds of Allans and I don't even know that
he joined the army!"

She said aloud, very calmly: "Love has given
to Renée what money couldn't--she has been well
educated, I believe!  Her mother taught her, she
says, and after her mother's death she went to a
communal school near St. Cloud.  She will help
our Pat a great deal!"

"Yes, I'm very glad we have her with us!  And
now, Pen, I'll put you in command--head gardener,
or whatever you want to call yourself!  Raise your
larkspur--only let a mere father be of what help
he can!  Things are pressing pretty hard at the
Works--I can't help but fear that the winter may
bring serious problems of unemployment and we
must be ready to solve them!  A few weeks will see
the end of this war--it is in sight now!  By the way,
we are just completing the formula for a new
explosive--more powerful than any the world has ever
known!  If the enemy knew it the war would end
to-morrow!"

Penelope shuddered.  "Why do we need it?"

"My dear, that little formula alone, scrap of
paper as it is, will be a safeguard against future
wars!  The government is sending on experts to
go over the experiments and the formulas.  And, if
they are satisfied, it will be my gift--the gift of my
men--to our country!"

Penelope listened with divided attention, her
mind not so much upon the wonders of shot and
shell as upon the problems of the two little girls
upstairs.  She stared into the crackling flames.

"Do you think Miss Pat will fall into your plans,
sister?  Remember she is sadly spoiled!"

Pen laughed.  "She'll never know we're making
plans--wait and see!  The first thing we must do is
to make Renée feel that this is home and then--well,
we must fill their days with sunshine--flowers and
children grow better with that, you know!  And
I promise you, Thomas, that after a few months--if
I'm let alone that long--you'll agree that my hobbies
are commonsense things after all!"

"You're generally right, sister--I've found that
out from long, sad experience!  Grow your larkspur
and I'll help!  And now I move that we call the plot
finished and go to bed--you've worn me out!"

With two fingers he tipped her face toward him
and kissed her good-night.  Each was very fond of
the other--it was this affection that bound Penelope's
heart so closely to her brother's children.

Long after he had gone she sat alone before
the fire, her elbows on her knees, her chin dropped
into the palms of her hands.  And as she mused
over her plans, between her and the flames danced
pictures of what she would like to do to help Pat, and
now Renée, grow into "hardy blossoms, blooming
year after year, keeping the garden lovely and the
world richer for their beauty!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`FIRST AID`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER V


.. class:: center medium bold

   FIRST AID

.. vspace:: 2

Renée wakened to find the sun streaming
through the pink-flowered curtains and Patricia
sitting bolt upright in bed, staring at her.  She had
been dreaming of Susette and Gabriel; she had to
rub her eyes once or twice before she could
remember that this was America and her new home!

"I thought you'd *never* wake up!  I was just
sitting here thinking how nice it is to have you here.
Miss Prindle would never let any of us have a
room-mate.  Let's dress fast--there's *so* much I want to
show you!  I'll ring for Maggie."

As she spoke Patricia sprang from her bed and
ran barefooted across the floor to the bell.  With the
sunshine and Pat's enthusiasm, the little homesick
feeling that had begun to ache its way into Renée's
heart disappeared in an instant.

Aunt Pen answered the bell instead of Maggie.

"Lazy girlies!" she cried cheerily.  "I have been
waiting an hour to eat breakfast with you!  Melodia
has a touch of her "rheumtics" and I've told
Maggie that she may stay downstairs and help her.  You
and Renée can put away your things and make your
beds."  She was throwing back the bedclothes as she
spoke and did not notice the surprise that flashed
across Pat's face.  Pat did not guess that this was
one of Aunt Pen's "plans" because she did not
know, yet, that Aunt Pen was "planning"; she had
never made a bed in her life, nor had she ever had
to hang away her clothes!  But already Renée was
neatly tucking into a corner of the wardrobe her
warm, comfy slippers and was hanging her nightgown
upon a hook, so, although Patricia had opened
her lips to utter a protest, she closed them, suddenly ashamed.

Over their breakfast Aunt Pen and Pat made the
plans for the day.  It must be like a holiday to
celebrate Renée's coming!  She must be taken about the
city and shown every spot of interest.

"It will seem stupid to you after Paris," declared Pat.

Renée smiled.  "Oh, it couldn't!  Paris is beautiful
but--this is America!  Always my mother told
us stories of America.  She loved it and she wanted
us to love it, too!  She used to say that America
was like a splendid, growing boy!  I think she meant
that everything here is young and over there in
France it is so old!  But I love France!"  The
child's eyes grew dark with feeling.  "Only I feel
so sorry for France!  She's like poor Susette and
her flowers!"

"It's Susette's cheery, brave soul that you love,
my dear--as we love the cheery, brave soul of
France," finished Aunt Pen.

"Well, maybe France has a soul but does she
have pancakes like these?" put in Pat, for she felt
that Renée and Aunt Pen were growing far too
serious for such a glorious morning.

The day was full of interest for them both; for
Patricia, because she suddenly found a new pride in
showing to her little guest the various things in her
home city of which she was justly proud.  Then
Aunt Pen gave bits of historical information that
added to everything they saw.  Pat had not known
that over the stretch of pretty park near her home
the early settlers had once fought with the Indians;
that the huge boulder in the park, shadowed by old
elms, marked the grave where some unknown soldiers,
who had given their lives in the war of 1812,
were buried.  Aunt Pen also pointed out the street,
thronged now with trucks, wagons and street-cars,
that had once been the trail through the forest over
which, when the Indians had burned the village,
Patricia's great-great grandmother had escaped,
hidden under sacking and straw in the back of the old
farm wagon, drawn by oxen.

"Oh, how thrilling!" cried Pat with a little
shiver of delight.  "What fun it would be to have to
escape now!  Only we'd just go in this car with
Watkins driving about fifty miles an hour!"

Later in the day Patricia begged that she might
take Renée again along the river road, past the old
fort that had once leveled its wooden cannon toward
the shore of Canada, past the huge factories with
their countless chimneys belching forth flame and
smoke.  Aunt Pen had let them go alone and the
ride had been one of endless interest.  They were
returning swiftly along the maple-shaded street that
led toward home when the car swerved sideways,
Watkins gave a quick laugh, and the air was pierced
by the sharp cry of a dog in pain.

"Watkins--it was a dog!" cried Patricia.

"I know it.  He'll be more careful next time!"

Renée had covered her eyes.  Pat sprang from
her seat and leaned toward the chauffeur.

"*Stop!*" she cried so commandingly that he
ground on the brake.  "I think you're--you're *awful*
to go on and leave the poor dog!"  Tears threatened
her voice.  She opened the door and sprang out,
followed by Renée.

But another little girl had gone to the dog's
rescue.  Sheila Quinn, walking homeward from
school, had seen the accident.  She had run out into
the street and had gathered the dog into her arms.
When Pat and Renée had reached the spot she had
laid Mr. Dog upon the grass and was examining him.

"Is he dead?" cried Pat and Renée in one voice.

"Oh, no!  See him try to lick my hand!  He
knows we want to help him!  I guess he's more scared
than hurt!  Here, it is his leg.  See, it is broken."

"How can you tell?" asked Pat, filled with
admiration at the quick careful way Sheila had
examined their patient.

"Run your hand gently over his body; see, it
doesn't hurt him!  But look at his leg--how it hangs!
And watch him, he'll wince if I just move as though
to touch it!  We won't hurt you, doggie dear, just
keep quiet and we'll fix you up all nice."

"What will we do?" asked Pat anxiously.

"We must put it in a splint and bandage it,"
promptly answered Sheila, looking around her as
though to find the necessary things.

"I know--I know!  There's the white stuff Aunt
Pen got at the Red Cross, we can use that!  She
forgot it--it's in the car."

"That will be just the thing!"

"Get it, Renée!  And here are some sticks--won't
they do for splints?" asked Patricia eagerly.

"It ought to be something firmer, at least until
the bone is set."  Sheila was straightening out the
poor little leg with so gentle a touch that the dog
only whimpered.  "If you'd let me use your scarf
we could make a sort of pillow----"

For answer Pat snatched the woolen scarf from
her shoulders.  Sheila, rolled it tightly into a firm
pillow.  Renée had returned with Aunt Pen's package
and she and Patricia commenced tearing it into
strips.  Their fingers, eager though they were, made
awkward work of it.

"Let *me* do it!  You hold his leg," exclaimed
Sheila.  She tore off strips two inches wide.  Then
she neatly covered the woolen scarf with a wider
piece.  Renée and Pat, deeply concerned, leaned over
the dog and watched.  Pat held the injured leg and
Renée gently stroked the dog's head.

"Isn't he a darling?" cried Pat.  "I just *hate*
Watkins for hurting him!"

"It wasn't Watkin's fault--he might have saved
the dog and had a serious accident and hurt--you
girls!  The dog ran out in front of the car!  This
will be a lesson to him."

The splint ready Sheila gently placed it under the
dog's leg and instructed Pat how to hold it in place.
She wound the bandage around and around, careful
to avoid the break, but firmly, so as to hold the splint
securely in place.  Then she straightened up from
her kneeling position with a long breath.

"There, now--that will do nicely, until someone
can set it!"

"I think you're wonderful--the way you can
do things!" cried Pat, always generous in her praise.
"Where did you ever learn?  And oh, I forgot, we
don't know your name and we'd like to----"

The three girls, grouped about the injured dog
who lay very contentedly with his head pillowed on
Renée's lap, presented striking contrasts.  Pat, like
a picture in a fashion book in her trim green
broadcloth coat and turban set jauntily on her smooth dark
hair, had a frankness and sunniness in her face that
was invariably winning despite a slight imperiousness
of manner; Renée, small for her thirteen years,
her delicate face, framed in golden curls, touched
by the shadow of the sorrows she had known, seemed
like a fragile flower.  And Sheila Quinn, a head taller
than even Pat, her black hair neatly braided in two
tight pigtails reaching almost to her waist, her face
and form showing the vigor gained from healthy
exercise and simple living, had something both of
Patricia's winsomeness, Renée's quiet poise and a
happy contentment all of her own which came from
the Quinn philosophy of "just make the best of
everything, sweetness, there's sure to be some
sunshine somewhere!"

Sheila laughed.  "Which question shall I answer
first?  I'm Sheila Quinn!  I know you are Patricia
Everett, but----" she hesitated as she glanced toward
Renée.  Patricia added:

"This is Renée LaDue who has come way from
France to live with us!"

"Oh, how nice!"  Sheila glanced with friendly
curiosity up and down the little figure.  "And I
learned bandaging and all that at the scout meetings.
I was highest in my first-aid test," she
concluded proudly.

"Scouts----" queried Pat.

"Girl Scouts," explained Sheila.  "I belong to
Troop Six and it's the best troop in the city!"

"Les Eclaireuses!" cried Renée.  "There were
some in the School of St. Cloud.  I loved them--they
used to bring the soldier's coats and socks to Susette
for us to mend!  They were like little girl soldiers."

Again Patricia felt small and insignificant before
the greater experience of Renée and now, Sheila!
But her nature was too sunny to show the moment's
sting of pride.  Besides, she was immensely curious.

"What do you have to do to be a Girl Scout?"

"Why, just want to join!  I mean just want to
be all that a scout must be and then put in your
name.  I wish you'd join Troop Six--it's the best
and everyone just loves Captain Ricky--she's the
scout captain."

"What do you have to want to want to be a
scout?" asked Pat.

Sheila squared her shoulders.  "This is what
you have to want," and she repeated with dignity,
for she was leader of her patrol and felt the
responsibility of her position, "to do my duty to God and
my country, to help other people at all times, to
obey the scout law.  There are lots of laws but they're
the kind you just *like* to obey.  Captain Ricky says
the real meaning of scouting for girls like us is
service to God and our country; that it helps each one
of us to build strong characters that anyone can
depend upon!  And when girls are scouts why, we
don't stop to think that one, maybe, is rich and
another poor and one's black and one's white or one's
a Jew and one's a--a Baptist--we're just all scouts
and loyal!  Oh, I love it!"

"Renée, *let's* be scouts!" cried Pat.  "Let's
tell Daddy we want to join Troop Six--it's the best
in the city!"

Mr. Dog, his patience exhausted, had commenced
to stir restlessly and lick his bandaged leg.  The
three girls exclaimed in dismay:

"We've forgotten the dog!"

"What shall we do with him?"

"I'd better take him home.  I am sure my mother
can set his leg and then we'll put it in a stronger
splint," said Sheila.

Pat and Renée could not dispute Sheila's claim
to the interesting patient.

"Then we'll come over to-morrow to see him.
I think he's a nice dog because he looks just like
Miss Prindle's General who has all kinds of prizes,
only dirty!"  Patricia motioned to Watkins who,
resigned to waiting, had become more concerned in
the afternoon newspaper than in the fate of the dog.

He looked a little angry now when Pat explained
that they intended to carry the dog in the automobile
to the Quinn home, but there was something in
Pat's face that stilled the protest on his lips.

Pat exclaimed with delight when she found that
Sheila lived in the old brick house whose windows
were in sight of her own.  With Renée and now
Sheila, the world that had seemed only the day
before to be so lonely, now seemed full of friends.
Sheila did not tell Pat that she had often watched her
come and go from the house that was so like a palace
compared to her own.  Sheila knew that there had
been just a little envy in her heart at times and she
was ashamed of it.  For, after all, not for worlds
would she exchange her dearest mother and the
three small brothers for the wealth of the Everetts!

"Let's have lots of good times together," Pat
called in parting, "and we'll come over first thing
to-morrow to see the dog!"

So much had Pat and Renée to tell of their day
that Mr. Everett quite forgot an after-dinner
engagement he had made with a business acquaintance.
All four of them, Aunt Pen and Daddy, Pat
and Renée sat before the fire.  Pat, with a diplomacy
not suspected by her innocent family, led up very
carefully to what she wanted "more than anything
else in the world!"  That was always the way she put
it.  She used the very words now as she told of
Troop Six--the best in the whole city!

"Bless Pat!" cried her father, using Melodia's
favorite expression, "*I* can't keep up with you!
Yesterday it was one thing and to-day it's another,
and it's always what you want more than anything
else in the world!"

"Yes, Daddy--*this* is!"

"A Girl Scout----" he glanced over the children's
heads at Penelope and his brows lifted as
much as to say, "Well, this is *your* garden--what
have you to say?"

Aunt Pen answered his look.

"Do you know, Thomas, I think it's just the
thing!  It will bring the girls in touch with joys
and responsibilities they've not known before!"

"It makes us build up--oh, something about
character!"  In her excitement Pat could not remember
Sheila's grand words.  "Renée says that in Paris
they are like girl soldiers.  And Sheila says we'll
love the girls in the troop; there's Keineth Randolph
and Peggy Lee and True Scott and a lot of
others----"

"I know Mrs. Lee, and if Peggy is like her
mother she is a fine girl," added Aunt Pen.

"Keineth is John Randolph's girl," put in Pat's father.

"Then we may?" Pat asked anxiously.

"You may," laughingly answered Mr. Everett
and Aunt Pen in one voice, covering their ears that
they might not be deafened by Pat's boisterous
"hurrah!"

Upstairs Pat chattered on, although Renée's
eyes were almost shut with sleep.  They opened their
beds and each laid out her nightgown and slippers.

"You know I'm glad Maggie's downstairs now--we
ought to take care of things ourselves; we'll
*have* to, if we make good scouts!  Oh, good
gracious!"  Pat whirled a stocking in midair.  "We'll
have to try exams and I'm always scared to death.
But you'll help me, won't you, Renée?"

And little Renée, her heart overflowing with
gratitude, glad to do the smallest service within her
power, answered heartily, though sleepily, "'Deed
I will!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`EAGLES AND GOLDEN EAGLETS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VI


.. class:: center medium bold

   EAGLES AND GOLDEN EAGLETS

.. vspace:: 2

..

   |  "A bun fell on my kitten,
   |  She died where she was sittin'----"

sang Sheila, holding up for inspection the blouse
she had just finished ironing.

The front doorbell rang, its rusty tone resounding
through the house.

"Goodness gracious," exclaimed Mrs. Quinn,
smoothing out her apron.  Few came to the sombre
front door of the old house; somehow instinct seemed
always to lead visitors along the flagged walk to the
door leading into the cheery kitchen.

Sheila, flying to the door, had guessed in an
instant who the callers were!  She led Pat and Renée
back through the long hall and the injured dog,
comfortably established in a basket near the stove, set up
a vigorous barking by way of welcome.

"He's all right, or will be as soon as the break
mends, mother says!  This is my mother, Pat," and
Patricia turned from the dog to Mrs. Quinn, who
greeted the girls with her cheery smile.

"The children would have him here and I guess
the poor dog is glad enough to find a home," she
explained, nodding toward the basket which the
younger Quinns, with scraps of old carpeting, had
made most comfortable.

"Mother says he's an Irish terrier, so let's call
him Paddy!"  And Paddy, as though he liked and
accepted the name, barked and wagged his stump of
a tail and tried to jump out of his basket.

With little effort to conceal their curiosity
Patricia and Renée were staring about them.  Patricia
had never seen a kitchen like this before!  She could
not tell just what made it so different--it might be
the neat rows of pretty china dishes on the shelves
of the open cupboard, or the shiny tins and pots and
pans in the stove corner, or the bright rag rugs on
the spotless floor, or the gay patterned cloth across
the table at the window, or the blooming plants on
the sills framed by crisply ruffled muslin curtains!
And Mrs. Quinn, a pink bow at her neck brightening
her faded dress and heightening the color of her
thin cheeks, looked as though she belonged there
with the geraniums and the bright rugs and the
spotless dishes!  Patricia was thinking that it was just
the sort of a room one felt like staying in--and
anyone could feel sure that--if there was any sunshine
anywhere--it would be slanting across that floor.

Renée was standing with her hands quaintly
clasped.

"It is like home," she cried.  She caught sight
of a little wooden stool and exclaimed: "Oh--like
Susette's!"

Sheila had told Mrs. Quinn that Renée had come
way from France.  The motherly woman now drew
the child to her and let her tell of Susette and
the cheery kitchen at St. Cloud so that the tiny
shadow of homesickness might pass from her heart.

Patricia was joyously announcing that her Daddy
and Aunt Pen had said they might join Troop-Six!

"And I saw Captain Ricky and she told me to
bring you girls to-day!  Scout meeting is at three
o'clock at Lincoln School," Sheila added.

"Renée--do you hear that?  Goodness, I'm
scared!  What do we have to do first?"

"Form in patrols for inspection.  I hope you can
come into the Eagle Patrol with Keineth Randolph
and Peggy Lee and myself!"

Patricia had innumerable questions to ask.  She
and Renée sat upon the floor, one on each side of
Paddy's basket which had been drawn out into the
middle of the room.  Sheila resumed her ironing,
explaining that it must be done before she could do
anything else.  Mrs. Quinn commenced a vigorous
beating and stirring that promised goodies of some
kind, joining now and then in the merry chatter.
This was the beginning of many such pleasant hours
in the kitchen of the old brick house!

As the girls were going home Patricia said
suddenly to Renée, speaking out of a moment of deep
thought: "What was it made it so jolly--there?  I
believe it was the piano!  Who'd ever think of having
a piano in the kitchen?"

"No!" declared Renée.  "It was the rocking
chair and the piece-work cushions and the stool!"

At the scout meeting Renée, unused to large
groups of children, felt a wave of shyness grip her.
She was grateful for Pat's vivacity--no one would
notice how quiet she was!  At first there seemed
to be a great many girls and as though they were
all talking at once, but soon she made out through
Sheila's rather offhand introductions that the girl
with the nice eyes and jolly smile was Peggy Lee, that
the smaller one with the golden hair was Keineth
Randolph and that these two with the three girls
standing near Pat made up the Eagle patrol.

Capt. Ricky, who was really Miss Fredericka
Grimball, only no one ever called her anything but
Capt. Ricky, greeted warmly the new recruits.  She
was a tall young woman, her fine face made beautiful
by beauty of character rather than feature and with
a personality that won her girls' liking and at the
same time their respect.

She whispered to Sheila that she would place
Pat and Renée in the Eagle Patrol!  A shout went
up in answer which was quieted by Capt. Ricky's
whistle and her command to "fall in!"

Pat felt delightfully like a soldier as she drew
up her slender five feet of body between Renée and
True Scott.  But she was an absurdly awkward
soldier as she obeyed the commands and her pride
met a sad fall when upon inspection she had to hold
out ink-stained fingers!

After a brief drill the Captain gave the command
to the Color Guard to form.  From the ranks three
girls stepped forward and with military precision
brought from its place at one end of the room the
Troop flag.  Every scout's hand went instantly to
the forehead in salute!  Together they repeated:

   |  "I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the country
   |      for which it stands;
   |  One nation indivisible, with liberty and justice
   |      for all!"


Renée could not follow their words, but in a clear,
sweet voice she sang with them the "Star Spangled
Banner," and as the words rang out, "Then conquer
we must when our cause it is just," there was an
added brightness in her eyes, for she had come closer
than the others to "war's desolation."

In Sheila's kitchen the girls had studied the scout
laws; they repeated them now, carefully.  To Pat,
whose life so far had had few "laws" or "rules"
of any kind, they seemed to mean more, now, as she
repeated them in chorus, and she wondered deep
within her heart if she could really keep them all!
But just at that moment she caught a glance and a
smile from Capt. Ricky that put courage in her heart
where the faintness had been!  It would be well
worth trying!

A business meeting followed.  The business on
hand to be discussed ranged in character from reports
on "war savings," "thrift kitchen work," "city
beautiful plans," a "back-to-school" campaign,
knitting and sewing, to a noisy argument over a
coming hike.  The girls all tried to talk at once, and
but for Capt. Ricky's whistle might have succeeded;
nevertheless, out of the jumble of words Pat and
Renée caught the impression that these merry girls
were really doing a great deal of earnest work as
well as play!  In these khaki clad youngsters strong
characters were in the building, "that anyone could
depend upon" as Sheila had put it!

"Sheila, I know something un-us-u-al is going
to happen!" whispered Peggy Lee, leaning across
Pat and Renée.  The Eagle patrol had grouped
together, sitting cross-legged on the floor.  "When
Capt. Ricky looks like that she's got some grand
surprise----"

"Maybe it's an overnight hike!  We take our
ponchos and blankets and dog-tents and sleep
outdoors!"

"It's too cold for that now, Ken!  Perhaps it's a
real party like the one we had last spring!"

But none of them had guessed right!  Capt. Ricky
had a surprise for them but it was even better
than the overnight hike or the "real party!"

When the business of the meeting was over she
stepped before them, her hands clasped behind her
back in a most mysterious manner.  She began:

"Scouts, I have been given a great privilege--and
you shall all share it with me!  An honor has
come to Troop Six!"  She had to wait, then, for a
moment; loud cheers interrupted her!  She did not
seem in the least disturbed.  "But like all the honors
that have come to Troop Six this has been won
through merit, earnest effort and hard work.  We
may well be proud of her who has brought us this
honor; we can all follow her example and seek the
standard she has attained!  We can hail her as a
leader among us!  Sheila Quinn, please step
forward!"

A ripple of "oh-h-h" ran through the girls!
Sheila's face turned crimson.  Peggy and Keineth
excitedly pushed her forward.

Capt. Ricky's left hand clasped Sheila's and with
her right she held up a glittering badge.

"Sheila, it is my happy privilege, upon the
recommendation of the National Commissioner, to
award to you the Golden Eaglet, the highest honor
that can be won by a Girl Scout!"

A din of cheering drowned out anything more
that Capt. Ricky might have wanted to say.  Peggy
and True Scott were capering about like jumping-jacks.
There were shouts of "What's the matter
with Sheila!  She's all right," "Three cheers for
Troop Six," "Now a tiger for the Eagle Patrol,"
and through it all Capt. Ricky stood smiling, clasping
Sheila's hand, and Sheila, the color of a red poppy,
looked wildly about as though seeking some corner
that might swallow her up.

Someone called "speech"; Peggy took it up,
then it came from every corner!  Capt. Ricky nodded
to Sheila.  Sheila swallowed hard to clear her voice
of the tight band that seemed to choke it.

"I'm awfully glad I won--just for the sake of
the Troop!  It was hard work at first but afterwards
one thing helped another.  I hope you'll all be
Golden Eaglets and I'll help anyone that wants to
work for it and--Oh, I can't say another word!"
and poor Sheila made a dash for the corner where
the Eagle patrol awaited her with eager arms.

There were "eats," then, for it was of course
a great occasion, and Peggy insisted that Sheila must
eat six of the raisin cookies that were served.  Pat,
feeling now as though she had always belonged to
Troop Six, asked, humbly, "if plain Eagles might
not have just five?" and helped herself as she spoke!

The girls walked home together, a merry troop!
Peggy Lee and Keineth Randolph turned after a
few blocks; as Pat, Renée and Sheila went on Pat
slipped her hand through Sheila's arm.

She had been deeply impressed by Sheila's
modesty of manner.  She was certain if she had been
awarded such high honor she would have strutted
like a peacock!

"Doesn't it feel grand to be a Golden Eaglet?"
she asked Sheila solemnly.

Sheila hesitated.  "I--don't--know!  It makes
me sort of--scared!  I must live up to it, you see,
and sometimes--it's awfully hard!"

For a few paces the girls walked along in silence.
Serious thoughts had crossed each mind.  An honor
won was not enough--it must be lived up to!

Pat, who could not be still for very long, was the
first to break the silence.  She gave a merry chuckle.

"Well, I guess Pat Everett has a long way to
go before she can be a Golden Eaglet!  I've got to
learn to be just a good scout first and you can believe
that the next time I go to a scout meeting--I'll wash
my hands before I go!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`AUNT PEN PLANS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VII


.. class:: center medium bold

   AUNT PEN PLANS

.. vspace:: 2

The Everett family was holding a "pow-wow."  That
was what Pat called the after-dinner hour
when they gathered about the library fire.  Renée
thought it quite the jolliest time of the day; almost
always Mr. Everett had so many funny or exciting
things to tell and he and Aunt Pen never shut the
girls out of their conversation; when sometimes their
talk became serious and of problems which the girls
could not understand, then either Mr. Everett or
Aunt Pen carefully explained.  And in turn Aunt
Pen and Pat's father would listen with deep interest
to the girls' account of their day.

"It's not nearly as jolly when Celia's home," Pat
had confided to Renée, "'cause she always talks
and won't pay any attention to me!"  Although
Aunt Pen, overhearing her, had laughed and said,
with a world of meaning: "Poor chatterbox!"

Letters had come from the south that day.  They
read them over now as they sat in the "pow-wow."  In
her letter to Pat's father Mrs. Everett had told
him how glad she was they had taken Renée and
how eagerly she looked forward to knowing the little
girl!  As Mr. Everett read this Pat squeezed
Renée's hand and Aunt Pen patted the fair head.
To Pat her mother had enclosed a little note.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: small

\* \* \* Be a dear good child and help your Aunt Pen by doing
whatever she wishes you to do.  Keep your father from being
lonely without us, and remember that sometimes he is very tired
when he comes home at night and likes to have some one read
to him!  And be very considerate of the little stranger you have
taken into your circle. \* \* \*

.. vspace:: 2

"Mother needn't worry!  I'll just like to do all
of those three things, you'll see!" cried Pat, folding
her precious note and tucking it away in her pocket.

But Aunt Pen's letter was the one that claimed
their deep attention!

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: small

\* \* \* If everything goes along all right at home--and
I know it will with you there, dear Pen--we may stay until
spring.  We are very comfortable, the hotel is quiet and the
food is good.  Celia seems brighter and is quite contented.
Chauncey is out of danger, too, and in a short time we may
go to the hospital and see him. \* \* \* It was very hard for
me to make up my mind to leave home just now, but I could
not hesitate when I knew that it was for Celia's good.  And
you, dear girl, made it easier for me by taking my place.
\* \* \* I am worried about Pat's school.  I really don't think
she ought to go back to Miss Prindle's at all--there is so much
sickness everywhere, and I simply cannot stand any more
worry.  I think I'd rather she stayed right at home.  But she
ought to have some work--dear Pen, please plan this out for
me!  I feel so helpless way down here!  I will leave it all to
you, knowing that whatever you do will be for Pat's good. \* \* \*

.. vspace:: 2

"Read that last again," broke in Pat's father
with a twinkle in his eyes.  Pat was looking rather
anxiously at Aunt Pen.

Penelope read it again and then folded the letter.

"It's just exactly what I wanted Caroline to say!"

"But, Daddy, I don't care--now--about not
going back to Miss Prindle's, but I'd hate a tutor
or anything like that!"

"All play and no work----"

"But I do work!  Ask Aunt Pen if I haven't
made my bed every morning!"

"I have some plans," Aunt Pen began slowly,
"the girls ought to have some studies and----"

"And a tutor, Aunt Pen?"  Aunt Pen nodded.
"Not that awful Miss Gray--please, Aunt Pen!"

"No, not Miss Gray!  I think I know someone
whom you'll like--or at least you are very fond of
her now!"

Amused at the real distress in Pat's face her
father broke in:

"Aunt Pen says she has some plans!  Her plans
are generally very interesting," with a sidelong
glance at his sister, "though I admit that sometimes
she is very heartless!  Let's hear them!  Then if you
don't like them, why----"

"Well, then," cried Pat resignedly, "let's hear
them!"

Renée was listening with deep interest.  She had
never gone to school except for the three years
following her mother's death when she had on pleasant
days gone to the communal school at St. Cloud.
Before that her mother had taught her; she had
stored away, too, in her mind valuable knowledge
from the books which had been always about her.
Now the thought of going to an American school
filled her with terror!

Aunt Pen assumed a comically serious air.  "I
will tell the girls my plans and they shall decide, for
unless they go into the work with all their hearts it
will do them little good!  First, each day must be
divided into periods, the first to begin at eight o'clock.
Between eight and nine there will be instruction in
household arts"--she could not resist a sly wink at
Pat's father--"that includes making beds without
wrinkles and tidying the corners; of the room,
especially behind the wardrobe where things collect--"

"Aunt Pen, you are *just* joking!"

"No, my dear!  I never was more serious in my
life!  To my thinking accuracy in such work is as
important as accuracy in algebra or geometry!  And
I am sure you did not get it at Miss Prindle's!"

"What then?" cried Pat and her father.

"An hour of out-of-door exercise in the morning
and one in the afternoon, or at least two hours
out-of-doors each day, regardless of weather!"

"Oh, I *like that*!" interrupted Pat.

Aunt Pen continued severely: "And that does
not mean riding with Watkins!  That leaves six
hours for study, classes and indoor recreation."

"Study what?" demanded Pat, still suspicious
that there must be something unpleasant somewhere.

"Well, different things for each of you.  Besides
the classes in bed-making, sweeping and dusting,
cooking and home-nursing, I think you should study
Algebra and spelling, Renée may study English and
she will help you with your French, and you will
both have Latin.  Then in the evening you may read
American history from books selected by your
tutor----"

"Did ever anyone hear of a school like that?"
cried Pat, clapping her hands.  "I love it, Aunt Pen,
and I'll work hard--honest!  Oh----" her face fell.
"Who will be the tutor?"

"Where can you find anyone who can make bread
and teach Latin infinitives?" put in Mr. Everett
mischievously.

"Well," Aunt Pen tried to look modest, "how
would I do?"

"You!" cried Pat incredulously, certain now
that the whole plan was only a joke.  "You--really,
truly?"

"Really, truly, my dear!  I will dearly love to
teach you and help you both!"

Pat threw both arms about her neck in a strangling
hug.  "Oh, Aunt Pen, it will be such fun and
I'll really, truly try to learn Latin and I won't stuff
things behind the wardrobe any more--that was my
half of the room, you know!  And maybe, with
Renée to help me, I can soon speak French as well
as Celia!"

"And I'll offer a prize for the best loaf of bread
that one of my girls makes!" added Mr. Everett.

"No, there shall be no prizes in this school!  If
one of the girls can do something better than the
other then she is going to help the other!  More
than all the French and Latin, in the world I want
my pupils to learn unselfishness!  And we will keep
reports and the reward will come when Pat and
Renée show these reports to Pat's mother."

"What do you think about it, Mouse?"  That
was the name Mr. Everett had given Renée.  Her
eyes were shining with delight.

"Oh, I will like it very much!  And there is so
much I want to learn if I am to live in America and
I will try so hard!  I was afraid to go to school!"
she confessed.

"It is very natural that you should have dreaded
it, my dear!  After a little that shyness will wear
off and you will find many staunch friends and
playmates."

"I want to learn to iron as nicely as Sheila
can," announced Pat with her accustomed
enthusiasm.  "And cook, too--make tarts and things!
Why, Aunt Pen, all that is what we'll need to be
second-class scouts!"  The thought suddenly
brought concern to her face.  "Will we have time,
Aunt Pen, to study for the tenderfoot test?  Peggy
Lee and Keineth Randolph are going to teach us to
tie knots and, you know," she added hastily, "that
is important!  Everybody should be able to tie all
sorts of knots--it's very useful, lots of times!"

Aunt Pen nodded.  "Of course!  You shall have
a chance to learn all that!"

"Peggy says her brother will teach us how to
semaphore, too!  Oh, we'll be *so* busy, Renée!  I
think I'll write to Angeline all about it!"

She ran to the spinnet desk across the room and
pulled out paper and pen.  Her head was whirling
with Aunt Pen's delightful plans!  She wrote
furiously for a few moments, with a loud scratching of
her point.  But as she wrote into her mind slowly
crept a vivid picture of the girls at Miss Prindle's
and of the life there!  With the page half written
she stopped.  Then she caught up the paper and tore
it across, dropping the pieces one by one into the
waste-basket.  From the divan before the fire Aunt
Pen was watching her, wondering at the fleeting
shadow that had crossed the brightness of her face.

"What is it, Pat?" she asked gently.

Pat hesitated.  "Oh--nothing!"  There was a
note of defiance in her voice.  She did not add that
into her heart had suddenly come the illuminating
conviction that the girls she had known at Miss
Prindle's would laugh at Aunt Pen's "school!"

"There was just so much to write about that I
couldn't seem to begin!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`BREADWINNERS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   BREADWINNERS

.. vspace:: 2

A perplexing problem confronted Pat.  Her
scout uniform must be bought out of money she had
earned herself.  And she had never earned a penny
in her life!

"I earned my money knitting mittens and selling
them and True Scott crocheted tam-o'-shanters.
They were awfully pretty and all the girls ordered
them.  Peggy Lee worked on Saturdays in a grocery
store--taking telephone orders," Sheila explained.

"I can't knit well enough or crochet or do
anything," Pat wailed afterwards, in gloomy
consultation with Renée and Sheila.

Then at Sheila's suggestion the girls studied the
"Help Wanted" column of the newspaper.  They
spread it out upon the floor and knelt around it;
Renée reading off each advertisement and Sheila
and Pat passing upon its possibilities.  After
considerable discussion it was decided that on the next
afternoon Pat should go to a certain office address
where, as the advertisement read, any refined lady,
young or old, would be told how to make ten dollars
a week, in pleasant occupation, in her spare hours!

"That will be just right for me!" Pat declared
enthusiastically.  "It won't interfere with 'school.'"

Aunt Pen's "school" was well started.  At first
Pat had been inclined to treat rather lightly the
schedule of "household arts," but she realized very
soon that Aunt Pen was in earnest and that she
intended to demand the same thoroughness and
accuracy in the simple tasks about the house that
were necessary in the sums in Algebra!  At the
beginning Pat had detested what Melodia called
"the upstairs work," but under Aunt Pen's pleasant
instruction and with Renée's cheerful company--that
little lady was a true housewife and her hands flew
eagerly about her work--Pat began to feel more
interest and to try very hard to do everything just
right!  And at the end of the first week Aunt Pen
had allowed the girls to make apple pies which
Mr. Everett had declared were better than any apple pies
he had ever tasted!

"And ten dollars a week!" Pat went on, "I will
be rich very soon!  Now we must find something for
Renée!"

"Perhaps I might earn a little arranging flowers
in shop windows; often I helped Colette Voisin,
who had a stall at St. Cloud, and I loved it!"

"Just the thing!" cried Pat, delighted with
anything out of the ordinary.  "Most of the flower
shops look hideous and they'd probably pay you
well!  While I go for my position to-morrow
afternoon, you and Sheila can stop at each one of the
florists and offer to trim their windows!"

The fortune-seekers spent an excited hour
preparing for their adventure.  Aunt Pen had gone out
for the afternoon, so they were undisturbed.  Pat
insisted upon fastening her hair tightly back from
her face so as to give to herself an appearance of
mature severity!  At the last moment she donned
a long coat of Aunt Pen's which concealed her own
kilted skirt and then for a finishing touch added
Celia's last year's sable furs!

"There--I'm sure anyone would take me easily
for twenty-one!" she declared, surveying herself
with satisfaction.  And to Pat twenty-one seemed old
enough to suit the most exacting employer!

They had arranged to meet Sheila at her gate.
Renée was frightened to death, and as the three girls
trudged on toward the business section of the city
she repeated over and over, after Pat, just what
she must say upon entering each florist's shop!

"Be sure to tell them that you used to fix that
flower stall in France!" warned Pat as they parted.
She waved her hand, calling "good luck," and
walked on with a brave step.  Sheila was to stay
with Renée because Renée was not acquainted with
the city streets.

But two hours later it was a crestfallen trio who
met--as they had agreed to do--in Sheila's kitchen.
Pat, in spite of her ridiculous make-up, looked like an
unhappy, thwarted child!  She had waited over an
hour in a stuffy office, packed in with dozens of
other "refined lady" applicants who had--although
Pat would not tell this even to Sheila or
Renée--openly laughed at her!

"And by the time it was my turn to go in I was
so tired waiting that I got all sort of scared and
couldn't say a word," she explained in deep disgust.
"Anyway, it was to sell "Beauty Packages" at
people's houses--things that'd make straight hair
curly and remove freckles and everything else and
you had to deposit twenty-five dollars before they'd
even let you begin!"

"And all the flower shops said they had experts
to decorate their windows--they would not even let
me tell of Colette's stall!  I think they thought I was
too little," sighed Renée; "often they laughed!"

"Well," Pat tossed her head, "we just mustn't
get discouraged but try, try again!"

Renée shuddered.  "Oh, I can't--not like that!"
she cried vehemently.

"Would you rather not be a scout?" demanded
Pat.  "You never get anything without trying for
it and I guess I'm not going to let one failure
discourage me!"  In the pleasant shelter of the Quinn
kitchen she felt very brave!  But a threat of tears in
Renée's eyes softened her.  "Don't worry, Ren, we'll
find something!  Maybe," she hesitated, "maybe
we'd better consult Aunt Pen!"

"Oh, I wish you would!" Renée cried eagerly.
Pat's adventurous spirit frightened her a little.

"I'll think about it and maybe to-morrow----"

For Pat was not quite sure, in her own mind, just
what Aunt Pen might think of the borrowed coat and
Celia's furs!

By countless little signs Aunt Pen knew that her
girls had something on their minds!  Hurrying down
to dinner she had caught a glimpse, as she had passed
Pat's door, of her own coat and Celia's furs thrown
on Pat's bed; the girls had been unusually silent
during the evening meal and she had twice
intercepted an appealing glance from Renée to Pat which
had drawn a nod of assurance from Pat in answer!
Pat's room work the next morning had been sadly
careless and her Latin recitation had found her
abstracted!  Aunt Pen was too sensible to force a
confidence--she was sure that it was only a matter
of a little time before Pat would bring to her
anything that troubled!

So she was not surprised when after the morning's
work was over Pat came to her door.

"Renée and I want to talk to you, Aunt Pen!"
she said so seriously that for a moment Penelope
was startled.

The two stood before her, Pat with her hands
clasped behind her as she had often seen her father
stand.

"You see it's like this, Aunt Pen--Renée and
I have got to earn some money to buy our uniforms!
We can't just use allowances!  It's about six dollars
and a half apiece!  We can't knit well enough to
sell things and Peggy Lee worked in a grocery store,
but it was where her mother traded and they were
nice about it!  But we--can't--find--any work!"

"Then you've tried?"

Pat colored.  "Yes--we tried yesterday!"  Without
going too much into detail and carefully
giving their experience as much dignity as possible,
she recounted the efforts of the afternoon before to
find employment.  Aunt Pen was suddenly seized
with a violent coughing fit which left her tearful!

"I *hope* you're not laughing," Pat ended with
some wrath in her voice.  "I'm sure we're old enough
to earn money--*boys* do at our age!  And I am not in
the *least* discouraged!"

"That is right, Pat," cried Aunt Pen admiringly.
"But perhaps you have not gone about it the right
way!  Let's sit down now and go over the whole
thing!"

Afterwards Pat told Sheila that one thing she
always liked about Aunt Pen was that she treated
a person as though that person *knew* something!

And Pat never dreamed that it was not her own
mental processes that, after a few words, arrived at
the conclusion that she and Renée must content
themselves with just trying to do what they were qualified
to do!

"Renée is too young to be employed even for
any part of a day in a store--we have a law that
forbids it!  And you, Pat, could scarcely sell enough
Beauty Packages in what spare time you have to
replace the shoe leather you'd wear out!"

"But what *will* we do?" cried Pat, humble now.

Aunt Pen thought for a long time.  Pat's
earnestness was a very precious thing--she must
guard it!

Suddenly she clapped her hands with the
girlishness that made her such an understanding companion.

"I have a brilliant idea!  You remember the box
of apples that came last week from my farm?  We
must have at least fifty bushels of them!  My farmer
said he was going to take them to market next week.
Instead, you and Renée may go around and take
orders!  You can sell them for a dollar and
seventy-five cents a bushel--even then it'll be under the
grocer's price--and you will pay the farmer a dollar
and a half, which is all he'd get wholesale, anyway."

"Then we'll make a quarter a bushel?"

"Yes.  If you sell the whole lot, you'll have
twelve dollars and a half to divide between you,
besides lots of exercise and some experience!  And
you can take orders for potatoes, too, up to twenty
bushels."

"Oh, great!" cried Pat.  She danced around
Indian-fashion.  "May we begin this afternoon?
And may I take some of the apples that came here
around in a basket to show people?"

"That is a good idea!  I think you'll find it
pleasanter than selling Beauty Packages!  Then other
ways of earning money may turn up.  You know one
thing you can learn, even when you are little girls,
that will help you all through life is to know and
grasp opportunities when they come."

"I don't know what we'd do without you, Aunt
Pen!  I'll keep accounts in a little book, for I love
putting down and adding figures.  Let's call
ourselves 'LaDue and Everett, Agents.'"

Renée, whose face reflected her pleasure and
approval of the new plan and her relief that the
afternoon need not bring further search for
employment, spoke now, shyly:

"I want so much to earn some money so as to
send a little to Susette and Gabriel.  I have so much
here and they may need many things!  Do you think
I could sell Christmas cards?"

"What kind, child?"

Renée told, then, of the little cards she had
painted and sold in St. Cloud.  She ran to her room
to bring a few that she had.  Penelope exclaimed
with real admiration over them:

"Why, my dear, they are beautiful!  Of course
you can sell them!  And you must make more!  And
dinner cards, too!"

"Then valentines!" cried Pat.  "And I'll sell
them, 'cause you see I am bigger!  We can buy your
paints and cardboard out of our apple money and--"

"What a business woman you have suddenly
become!" Aunt Pen declared.

"We'll need a great big account book and an
office----"  Pat stopped suddenly and clapped her
hands to her head, a motion which always indicated
that she had an idea!

"Oh, spliffy!  Renée--come on!  I've the *best*
plan!"  That it was to be a secret was certain!  She
caught Renée's two hands and dragged her from
the room, leaving Aunt Pen convulsed with laughter.

There ensued, then, from the third floor, between
the lunch hour and the afternoon study period, a
rumbling like thunder, mingled with pounding and
scraping and bursts of laughter.  To add to the
mystery Pat rushed downstairs to return shortly with
broom and dustpan and a mob cap over her dark head.

Not until the next afternoon was the secret
revealed!  Then with much ceremony Pat and Renée
escorted Aunt Pen to the third floor.  For years the
low-gabled room stretching across the east wing of
the house had served as a sewing room where the
Archer sisters had worked stitching frocks for Celia
and Pat and mending the household linen.  The Archer
sisters--Pat had always thought they looked like
gnomes---were dead now and Mrs. Everett had the
girls' dresses made by a downtown dressmaker.  The
room had not been used for a long time.

Now upon its door had been nailed an imposing
and elaborately decorated sign which read: "*Eagles'
Eyrie*."  And beneath that, emphasizing its warning
with a skull and crossbones, was another sign: "*No Admittance*."

"Three knocks and then a quick one is the
signal," explained Pat mysteriously; "and you and
Sheila and Peggy and Keineth and True Scott are
the only ones that will know it--except, of course,
Ren and me!"

Pat was unlocking the door as she spoke.  She
threw it open proudly.  "This isn't going to be any
silly club!" she explained.  "Everyone that comes
here must work!  That desk over there is mine
and Renée has this table because she can paint on
it and the light's good.  And that big table is for the
other girls, only we have to keep it against the wall
'cause one leg's off!"

A few hours' work had utterly transformed the
room and had removed all traces of the patient
Archer sisters and their livelihood.  The floor, very
dusty in spots, was covered with strips of an old hall
carpeting which, when hardwood floors had been
laid, had been stored away.  Pat had also resurrected
from the storeroom the antiquated desk and tables
and a dilapidated assortment of chairs.  Over one of
these, to add a note of elegance to the room, she
had thrown an old Bagdad lounge cover and across
the windows the girls had hung pieces of faded
velour, replaced a few years before in the living
rooms below.  The air was heavy with the smell
of camphor and dust; the three-legged table had a
pathetically helpless look, a corner of the wall was
stained from a leak in the roof, but to Pat and Renée
it was an inspiring retreat!

"My account books are there in my desk, and
I'll have you know, Aunt Pen, that 'LaDue and
Everett' have gotten orders for ten bushels of apples
which wasn't bad for one afternoon's work and for
girls, too!" declared Pat.

"Oh, that reminds me!"  Aunt Pen's voice was
as enthusiastic as that of the junior member of the
firm.  "I have an order for LaDue and Everett!
Miss Higgins will take twelve of the Christmas
cards!  I showed her one this morning.  She is going
to put them on sale in her tea room.  She may order
more!  You must decide as to your prices, Renée."

Renée was too delighted to answer.  Pat fairly
bubbled with excitement.  She caught Aunt Pen and
Renée in a whirling step that almost completely
demolished an ancient chair that lay in her mad path.

"Hurrah for the Eagles' Eyrie!  And won't we
just have fun?  You, know"--she quieted
suddenly--"the day mother and Celia went away I
was awfully miserable and I wrote the silliest things
in my diary!  But that was before I found Renée!
And now we've got Sheila and you and our jolly
school and our business and I'm glad's can be they
left me home and I didn't go back to Prindle's!"

Aunt Pen, for lack of breath and a chair had
sunk down upon the floor.  She looked up laughing.

"I'd hate to have to analyze that sentence of
yours, Patsy!  But even if your English is
constructed badly your heart is gold and I say--good
luck to you and your Eagles' Eyrie!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE NEW LODGER`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER IX


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE NEW LODGER

.. vspace:: 2

"Whatever in the world are all those whistles
blowing for?" asked Pat, springing from her bed
and running to her window.  "Something's
happening--I know!"

The girls listened.  The early morning air was
filled with incessant sound; the shriek of sirens,
shriller blasts, the heavy tones of boats' whistles
from the harbor, intoning bells.

"It makes you shiver!"

"Let's dress quickly!"  Pat reached out for a
stocking.  "Maybe it's peace!" she declared
suddenly.

"Oh-h!" was all Renée answered, but there was
a world of meaning in the single sound.  "Listen!
There are more bells!  Aren't they beautiful?
Perhaps they are ringing all over the world."

Downstairs they found everyone wildly excited.
Even Jasper, who had not been over from England
for so many years that he had forgotten his relatives
there, was talking volubly to Aunt Pen and passing
her sugar for her boiled egg!

"What is it, Aunt Pen?" cried Pat and Renée
in one voice.

"My dears--the fighting has stopped--at last!"
Mr. Everett answered.  He seemed too moved to
say more.

"I don't know whether I feel more like praying
or shouting," laughed Aunt Pen with two tears
rolling down her cheeks.

From the extra which Jasper had brought in
Mr. Everett read to them all the terms of the
armistice to which Germany had agreed.  Melodia and
Maggie listened from the door.

"I feel all queer inside!" announced Pat.

Renée's breakfast lay before her, untouched.
Aunt Pen, seeing the real distress on the child's face,
divined the ache that lay in her heart.  So that when
Renée, unable to control herself longer, rushed
toward the door she felt two quick arms fold about
her and draw her close to a friendly shoulder.

"Dearie, tell us!  Don't grieve by yourself!"

Then poor Renée buried her face; it was several
moments before she could speak.

"I wish I was--there!  Home, I mean--poor
Susette is old--and has--only Gabriel!  We worked
so hard--we made a flag, Susette and I, and we tried
to make it just like your Stars and Stripes; we put
in the thirteen bars, 'cause I had counted--but
not--nearly--enough stars!  We'd promised Emile when
peace came--he said that the Germans *would* be
beaten--we'd hang it from the corner of the roof,
'long side of Gabriel's old French flag!  And"--the
head went back against Penelope's shoulder--"I'm
'fraid Susette--will forget--and it--will not--be
there!"

"She will remember, Renée, because right at
this moment I know her heart and her mind are full
of thoughts of you, just as you are homesick for
her and the little cottage!"

Mr. Everett, who had been deeply moved by
Renée's story, interposed some practical comfort.

"Renée, will you let me--by way of celebrating
this day--send a money order to Susette in your
name?  Remember, child, how little we have
suffered as compared to you and Susette and countless
others--over there!  You shall write her a little
letter to go with it!"

"Oh, I will *like that*!  And then Susette will
surely know that I am with kind, generous friends!"  The
child's eyes were bright again.  "And I will
remind her where we put the flag and she can hang
it out, for I think now there will be flags flying in
France for a long time!"

"This must, of course, be a holiday," declared
Aunt Pen.

"And let's just do things we've never done
before," cried Pat.

At that moment Mr. Everett was called to the
telephone.  He returned greatly excited.

"Burns telephones from the Works that the men
are forming a monster parade!  They've got a band
and helped themselves to every flag in the place!
The city's gone mad!  I must hurry away.  Take
the girls downtown!  This November eleventh must
be a day we will never forget--as long as we live!"

And as he hurried off he said to Renée in parting:

"Have that letter ready, my dear, and I will
send the money order home at noon-time."

The girls rushed away to put on their wraps.

"May we stop for Sheila?" called Pat over the
banister.

"Of course!" assented Penelope, glad that Pat
wanted to share all her joys with her friends.

By the time they reached the downtown section
the walks were thronged with people and the streets
had been cleared of traffic for the marching hosts.
The girls found a place on the curb.  It seemed to
them as though everyone had gone mad all at once
and that they were as mad as anyone else!  At every
corner processions were forming, headed by any sort
of a makeshift band and where not even a drum could
be commandeered, tin pans and pails had been pressed
into service!  And through it all the incessant,
deafening tumult of whistles!

Everyone was smiling!  The sun had burst
through the accumulated clouds of long years of war!

A group of men and girls from a shipyard
marched by.  Some of them were drawing a huckster's
wagon they had seized and upon its load of
potatoes and apples and cabbages they had placed a
big ship's bell!  One of their number rode on the
wagon and with a huge sledge pounded the bell at
regular intervals.  They were all carrying flags, big
and small, and one grimy man had a baby in his
arms!  The crowd on the curb cheered wildly and
the man held the baby high in the air!

The marchers had to halt and while the man
with the bell rested, they sang the Star Spangled
Banner.  Others took it up--it was carried down
block after block, a rising wave of sound, a chorus
of triumph!  Pat and Sheila and Renée sang lustily
and as they sang Pat felt her hand suddenly caught
in a warm, tight clasp!  It was her neighbor, a little
bent woman with the dark eyes of the Italian race
and a worn shawl over her head and shoulders.  Her
eyes were brimming with tears, but through them she
was smiling like the others!  Pat was too young to
guess the tragedy of sacrifice that might lie behind
those tears, but she was not too young to sense the
common joy and thankfulness and privilege they
shared!  So she squeezed the worn fingers and
smiled back into the little old woman's face!

"Here come the men from the Works!" cried
Aunt Pen, standing on tiptoe to look over the crowd.
The shipbuilders had passed on.  Along surged the
approaching host, fifteen thousand strong, men and
women!  They had stripped the works of flags and
carried them now high in the air with arms that could
not tire!  The discordant blasts of their band was
heavenly music to their ears!  Old men stepped along
like boys; scattered through the lines were hundreds
of girls in their working overalls and caps.

Renée was puzzled.  These men, many of them,
did not look like the Americans she had seen!  One
of them shouted out in a strange tongue, but he
carried a banner that said "We are for the
U.S.A."  Perhaps, like herself, he had come to America for
refuge and was giving now of his strength and
loyalty to the mother country he had sought.

"Can't we march, too, Aunt Pen?" cried Pat.

Some one from the lines shouted to them to come
in!  They made a place in the ranks for them and
even the little old woman with the shawl joined the
procession.  A voice from behind hailed them and
Pat saw her father marching with his men.

"Could a day be more wonderful?  But I am as
hungry as a bear," declared Pat at luncheon.  "And,
oh joy, chicken and biscuits!  What shall we do this
afternoon, Aunt Pen?"

"Dear me, Pat, do you think as fast as you
talk?  For the sake of your digestion I shall keep
the plans for this afternoon a secret until you are
through luncheon!  But it is going to be something
you'll *just* love!" and Aunt Pen imitated
perfectly Pat's characteristically enthusiastic tone.

"Aunt Pen, I'll choke if you don't tell even a
*teeny* word!  Let us guess!"

But Aunt Pen was firm, and not until the last
crumb of luncheon had been eaten would she say
one word!

Then: "Your father says we may all go through
the Works!"

"All--Sheila and Keineth and Peggy?"

"Yes.  And we will start in half an hour.  That
will give Renée a chance to write her letter to
Susette."  For Renée had found on her plate an
envelope containing a money order for one hundred
dollars!

Because of the day's celebration the Works were
almost deserted and for the first time in months the
great wheels were still and the furnaces smouldering.
Mr. Everett met the girls and took them himself
from building to building, explaining carefully
every process of manufacture.  Peggy and Sheila
were intent listeners; Keineth, more imaginative than
the others, thought that the wheels were like great
giants, harmless now as they slumbered!  And Renée
loved the empty, dusty spaces, the gleaming metals
of the engines and dull glow of the furnaces!  Pat's
most lasting impression was pride that her father
should know so much!

Sheila became particularly absorbed in the pattern
shop.  She had lingered behind the others to examine
more closely a series of beltings.  Of an inquiring
and inventive mind, she was always deeply interested
in the putting together of any piece of mechanism.
Suddenly she realized that she was alone and hurried
out of the building to overtake the others.  They
had gone on through a long, enclosed alleyway to
the main shop.  She could still hear Mr. Everett's
voice.

As she rushed through the passage she ran
headlong into a man who appeared suddenly from a
doorway letting into the passage.  He was as startled
as she!  "*Du verdamte dumkopf!*" he snarled,
under his breath, hurrying on.  Sheila stood
motionless.

"That was *German*!" she thought.  She turned
quickly.  The man was disappearing at the end of
the passage.  And in a flash she recognized him as
her mother's new lodger!

Pat's voice came to her from the other direction.

"Shei-la!  Come along!"

A multitude of thoughts were whirling in Sheila's
head!  She did not hear one word of the light
chatter about her, for the exploring party had ended now
in Mr. Everett's office.  That man had certainly
cursed in German and there had been an evil look
in his face; she had frightened him so that he had
lost control of himself for an instant!  And what
could he have been doing there--like that--when
all the other men were off celebrating?

Down deep in her heart a voice told her that she
ought to tell Mr. Everett immediately!  But another
voice warned her that that would surely mean the
man would be discharged and her mother would lose
her lodger!  The back room would be empty again--and
the music!  She had begun her lessons and Miss
Sheehan had said she "was learning quickly!"  It
had been a precious dream come true--

She listened to the second voice--it was very
coaxing!  "Perhaps he is a German who has become
a loyal citizen of the United States," it told her, and
that sounded very reasonable!  She had startled him
and he had spoken in the old, forgotten language!
And the evil look she had caught in his eyes might
have been imagined--for she had been startled, too!
Besides, had the fighting not ended this very day?
What harm could an enemy do now!  If she told
Mr. Everett and he laughed she would feel very
foolish!  Mr. Everett was placing them in the
automobile and instructing Watkins to take them to
Huyler's where they would have chocolate and cakes
to end the great day.  She could not tell him now!

But the doubt in her heart made her sweets taste
bitter, and while the others chattered merrily Sheila
sat silent and absorbed.  She had listened within
herself to the pleasanter voice, but in her ears still rang
that muttered "*Du verdamte dumkopf*," and she was
haunted by the gleam of evil eyes.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A SCOUT'S HONOR`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER X


.. class:: center medium bold

   A SCOUT'S HONOR

.. vspace:: 2

That night Sheila dreamed all the great wheels
she had seen in the Everett Works were rolling down
the street after her and, though she ran as fast as
she could, they advanced more quickly and came
nearer and nearer; then they began to roar and to
wave arms of hot metal towards her!  The nearest
reached out and caught at her with fiery fingers and
just as she felt them close about her, she wakened!

Paddy was barking furiously, running from her
bed to the door and back, as though to implore her
to come!

Her fingers clutched at the bedclothes--with terrified
eyes she peered into the darkness of the room!
It had been a dream--she was safe in her bed!

"Woof!  Woof!" growled Paddy.

Sheila crept out of bed, scolding Paddy in
whispers, that she might not waken her mother who slept
in the next room.  Barefooted she stole down the
stairs to the kitchen, Paddy leaping on ahead of her.
The kitchen was dark; it was a moment or two
before Sheila's eyes could make out the familiar
objects.  Paddy growled and barked again!  A
sound outside startled Sheila so that she had to clap
her hand over her mouth to still a scream!  Then
she realized it was the lodger going up the outside
stairway!  Each step creaked under his foot; she
heard the door above close and a key turn in the
lock!

But Paddy was not satisfied!  He did not bark
again, for Sheila had soundly rapped his nose, but
he ran to the window, and placing his fore-paws
on the sill, looked out and whined.  Sheila, following
him, peeped through the curtains.  A light snow
had covered the ground in the small backyard; it was
still falling.  Not an object was visible except the
bare lilac bush in the sorrier.

"I s'pose it's a cat--you bad dog!" Sheila
muttered crossly.  "Come right upstairs, now, and be
quiet!"  So the two scampered back to Sheila's
room and Sheila cuddled down under the bedclothes,
pulling them well up over her face.  Paddy jumped
upon the bed and laid down very close to her feet and,
though Sheila knew this was against the Quinn
rules, she was grateful for his company and did not
drive him away!

In the morning Sheila was not her cheerful self;
she helped prepare the breakfast, clear it away and
get the three small brothers ready for school in an
abstracted manner.  Her mother watched her start
off herself with an anxious heart.

"Land o' goodness, what's got into my sweetness
this morning?" she thought.  "Never mind--if it's
anything wrong she'll be telling her mother!"

Which was exactly what, at noon-time, Sheila ran
all the way home from school to do.  Not for a
moment longer could she bear the self-reproach and
doubt that was tormenting her!  And her mother
gave her the counsel she expected!

"You go just as straight to Mr. Everett as you
can, dearie!  And don't worry!"

Sheila found the Everett family in a state of
intense excitement.  She needed only to glance once
at Mr. Everett's stern face to know that something
terrible had happened!  And with incredible instinct,
born of remorse, something within her told her what
it was!  She stood quite still and looked from one
face to another down the length of the table upon
which the day's luncheon had been spread.

"Oh, Sheila, somebody has stolen some dreadfully
important formulas from the Works----"
began Pat.

"No--no--no!" cried Sheila, as though her
protest must stop the truth!  Then she realized that
they were staring at her in amazement!  She clutched
the back of a chair and tried to speak but not a sound
would come.

"It is true," explained Mr. Everett in a tired
voice.  "It must have been the work of a very clever
band of spies!  All three copies of the formula have
been taken!  Each one had been put in a place we
considered absolutely safe!  We had just completed
them and were ready to turn them over for the
examination of the government experts!"

"And think of it, Sheila, Daddy says that it
was for an explosive so dreadfully powerful that
just having the formula and knowing how to make
it would help prevent wars!  Isn't that what he
said, Aunt Pen?"  Pat was greatly excited.

"To keep the secret in our country will certainly
help to prevent future wars!  There is no doubt but
that the theft is the work of German agents,"
Mr. Everett answered.  "And I did not know that we
had a man we could not trust!"

Then Sheila swallowed hard.  As she began to
speak she felt as though her voice was coming from
a great way off--that it did not belong to her at all!
Everything in the room began to whirl around her
excepting Mr. Everett.

In broken words she told her little story.  And
at the end she burst out, tears choking her voice:
"I just hate myself for not having told you right
then and there!"

It seemed to Sheila that long minutes of silence
followed her outburst and as though every face in
the room was turned upon her in condemnation.  Her
own eyes were fixed on the rug at her feet.  But
presently Mr. Everett's voice answered with a
hopeful ring it had not had before and, gaining courage,
Sheila looked up to find Aunt Pen nodding in
approval and Pat regarding her with open envy.

"My dear girl," exclaimed Mr. Everett, "I
believe you've given us an important clue!  I'll call
up the secret service detectives and will ask you to
repeat your story to them--if you will wait!"  He
quickly left the room as he spoke.

"Sheila Quinn, you're just like a real detective!
Isn't it grand and exciting?  I'd never have thought
a thing about that awful man!" Pat cried.

And Aunt Pen was solicitous that Sheila should
have some hot luncheon immediately!

From that moment on everything happened with
exciting rapidity.  Sheila repeated her story to the
two detectives who came at Mr. Everett's call.  It
was too late to return to school, so, hurrying home,
she went grimly about various little household tasks,
constantly listening for a knock at the door, starting
at every sound!

"Do you know, Sheila," her mother whispered,
"I'm as nervous as can be!  I'm sure I heard
Mr. Marx go upstairs the front way!  He's never done
that before!  I believe he just doesn't want a body to
know he's in the house!  Hark!"  Holding hands
tightly they listened; a soft pad-pad overhead made
them certain someone was moving about in the room
above.

"I wish they'd hurry and come and arrest him,"
Sheila groaned.  And scarcely had the words left her
lips when the front doorbell gave out its rusty clang.

Mrs. Quinn met three men at the door who
briefly explained that they came with a warrant for
the arrest of one Mr. John Marx who they thought
might be found in her house.  With a nodding of the
head that set awry all sorts of little gray curls,
Mrs. Quinn made it known that she was very certain the
gentleman was at that moment right up in her back
room!  She started up the stairs with two of the
men while the third lingered uncertainly in the hall
below.

"Quick--come and watch these stairs outside,"
cried Sheila running to him.  She led him back to
the kitchen.  They reached there just in time to hear
the outside door above close quietly and quick steps
on the rickety stairs.  Not quick enough, though, for
as Mr. John Marx opened the door at the foot of
the stairs he faced the muzzle of a revolver!

Sheila, frightened and unnerved, shrank to a
corner of the kitchen.  She heard quick, angry voices,
a sharp command, a click of metal as of a lock
snapping shut!  Her mother and the two other officers
had come into the kitchen.  Then the one man and
his prisoner went away and the others returned to
the room above to search its contents.

"Dear me, I feel almost as though we'd done
something ourselves," sighed Mrs. Quinn, worn out
with excitement.  "And he was a nice appearing
man, too, with always a pleasant word when he
brought me the----" she stopped.  For the first
time it came to her that she had lost her lodger!

And as though the same thought tormented
Sheila the girl dropped her work and went to the old
piano.  It had been tuned and polished and
Mrs. Quinn had draped a linen and lace square over one
end of it.  Sheila sat down and slowly, with a
lingering touch, ran her fingers up and down the scale.
Then she rose abruptly and closed the cover over
the keys with a resolute bang.

"It's not half the punishment I deserve--but I
did want to learn!" and bursting into tears she,
rushed off to her room to fight out by herself the
disappointment she must face.

And as though the day had not brought enough to
"just clean tucker one out," as poor Mrs. Quinn put
it, that evening, after the boys had gone to bed,
Mr. Everett and Pat came to the door!  Mrs. Quinn's
hospitable soul was greatly distressed that she could
not invite her guest into the parlor--occupied now
by old Mr. Judkins at twenty-five dollars a month--but
Mr. Everett declared that he could not ask for
a more comfortable chair than the old rocker nor for
a more cosy room!  With his usual tact he made
Mrs. Quinn feel that they were old acquaintances.

He told them--keeping Pat's voice out of the
story with difficulty--how the arrest of John Marx
had led to the rounding up of the entire band;
how they had been quickly proven to be Germans and
paid agents of the German government and
how--although as yet the formulas had not been found and
their whereabouts remained a deep mystery, it must
be only a short time before they *would* be discovered,
as some of the best secret service men in the United
States were working on the case!

Mr. Everett's face looked worn and worried.
Nevertheless he spoke cheerfully, as though to relieve
Sheila's concern.

"And now, my dear," he concluded, "you have
helped us so much in this matter I want you to tell
me frankly--is there not some way in which I can
show my appreciation?  Is there not something you
want to do?  Girls like you and my Pat here have
so many air castles and I would like----"

"Oh, *please* stop!" Sheila sprang to her feet,
her face burning.  "I just can't *bear* it!  If I had
done what I knew, right then, I *ought* to do--and
told you, there at the Works--they might have been
stopped--in time!  But I didn't!  I waited!  The
only way I can bear thinking about it is knowing
that--I'm being punished!"  Her shame-faced
glance went from the piano to her mother's face.
"So please don't say anything to me about----"
she stopped, held by a sudden thought, and drew
from the pocket of her blouse a small, flat package of
tissue paper.  With trembling fingers she unwrapped
it and held up to view her badge of the Golden Eagle.

"I didn't live up to it!  I didn't keep my Scout's
honor!  Mr. Everett, please, will you take it and
keep it for me--until the formulas are found?  I
cannot wear it!"

There was no doubting the resolution in Sheila's
face.  The man marveled at the courage with which
this mere girl inflicted upon herself the punishment
she thought she deserved!  In spite of a half-smothered
exclamation from Pat, he took the badge, carefully
re-wrapped it, and put it away in his pocket.

"Sheila, you are evidently determined not to
forget this lesson!  Many of us make mistakes often
by hesitating to heed the voice of our conscience,
but I know one girl that isn't going to let it happen
again!"  He patted her affectionately upon her
shoulder.  "I don't know," he added, enigmatically,
"but that this all may not be worth more than the
formulas--for us all!"

Then he shook Mrs. Quinn's hand warmly in parting.

"I congratulate you, madam."  And though Mrs. Quinn
was too flustered to know what in the world
for, nevertheless she beamed with pleased pride!





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`YOUNG WINGS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XI


.. class:: center medium bold

   YOUNG WINGS

.. vspace:: 2

"Tat!  Tat!  Tat!  T-tat!"

The mystic door of the Eagles' Eyrie opened
wide enough to admit Peggy Lee and Keineth
Randolph.

All sorts of greetings assailed them.  "Hello,
Eagles!" "We were afraid you wouldn't come!"
"A half-holiday and such a storm," regretfully from Pat.

"We'd come through flood and fire!" cried
Peggy, with magnificent expression.  "We are the
bearers of good tidings!"

"What?  What?  What?" came at once from
three throats.

"The Wasps have challenged us to another game,
and if we don't beat the pigskin right off of
'em--I'll resign as captain of the team!"

"Peg--you talk more and more like Billy!"

"Garrett, if you please," and Peggy struck a fine
pose!  "Now that he has come into the dignity of
long trousers, my dear brother desires to be called
Garrett!  Billy is far too childish for him and
William would confuse him with his respected father
who is also my dear daddy----"

"Well, Garrett, then," Keineth laughed, "only
I heard you promise your mother you would not use
any more slang!"

"So I did, and I am trying, and what I really
mean is that if my dear little Yellowbirds do not play
an exquisitely nice game and defeat the Wasps I
shall be prostrated with chagrin and shall send in
my----"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Peg!" they begged.

Peggy now became very earnest.  The Wasps,
Troop Nine's basketball team, was the only scout
team that Troop Six had not been able to beat.  Now
the Yellowbirds were going to have another chance!
For the next two weeks they must practice as they
had never practiced before!  They *must* uphold the
honor of Troop Six!

Pat's face, as she listened to the plans, wore a
wistful look.  She wanted so much to make the
Troop team!  No one of the scrubs worked harder
at practice!  And Peggy had told her, too, that she
was beginning to play a good game.  Of course it was
wicked to wish that anything might happen to any of
the valiant Yellowbirds, however--

Renée interrupted the plans of the young athletes
by abruptly pushing back the one sound chair in the
room which she had been occupying.

"It's too dark to work!" she declared, shutting
her paint box.

"Let's just sit around and talk," suggested Pat
"I feel lazy!  Anyway, Ren, you work too hard!  I
heard Aunt Pen say so."

Against the windows of the Eyrie the storm beat
relentlessly--rain and hail; gusts of wind, sounding
like witches' voices around the gable.  The girls
stretched out on the floor.  Sheila shut the book she
had been reading.  Pat pulled Keineth's head into
her lap that she might "play," as she called it, with
the bright curls escaping from the band that held
them back.

"You'd almost think there were fairies around!
Listen!"  Keineth held up her hand.  "It makes me
think of a story poor Tante used to tell me about
the kind fairies who came to whisper to the princess
what she should do when she had been shut in the
tower of the castle by the wicked prince.  Tante used
to try and make me understand how one could learn
something from all those fairy tales--the wicked
prince was our own selfish natures, the beautiful
princess was, of course, our bestest selves that we'd
shut away in the prison tower and the fairy voices
that whispered and sang 'round the tower were the
voices of Opportunity!  But, dear me, I used to
think it was more fun just to believe that the princess
was a real princess!"

"I wish a fairy would come right now and tell
me what *would* rhyme with "long" besides "song!"
sighed Pat.

"And *I* wish a fairy would just guide my fingers
for me," put in little Renée from her corner.

"Let's all tell what we want to be," cried Peggy.
"I've always said I was going to be an actress!  I
was in a play once and did awfully well!  But
Barbara met Ethel Barrymore when she visited college
and she told the girls that only a few of the women
who go on the stage are really happy or become
famous!  I don't believe Barb told her about me
but Barb got the idea that she sort of--meant me!
And Billy--or Garrett--says my feet are too big,
anyway, and I guess he's right!  So now I'm trying
to decide whether to be a chemist or a doctor!  I love
to fuss with the cunning little dishes and mix up all
sorts of things, and if I don't blow myself up Dad
says I'll be all right.  But I'd like to be a doctor,
too!"  Poor Peggy's forehead wrinkled in a deep
frown over the perplexing problem of her future.

"My father says that after four more years of
school he will take me abroad to study my music
from great masters!  And I will learn to play and
to write beautiful music!" said Keineth softly,
looking as though off in the shadows of the room she
could see her dearest dreams come true.

"Your turn, Ren!"

Renée blushed under the serious glances turned
toward her.  "I've wanted ever since I was a little
girl, to make things out of clay and marble, like my
father used to make--and Emile.  Emile had
promised to teach me when I was older.  My mother could
never bear to see the clay and tools around, it made
her very sad, I think because it made her think of
my poor father.  One summer mother and Emile
and I went to the sea, and when we'd sit on the
beach Emile would help me make rabbits and cats and
birds out of the wet sand.  I love to draw and paint,
but when I am older I shall learn to carve, too!"

"Now, Sheila!"

Sheila laughed.  "Goodness, girls, I've never had
a moment to make nice dreams like yours!  I *did*
want to learn to play the piano----" she stopped
short; the hurt of disappointment and the smart of
remorse had not healed in her heart.  "But I never
could have earned any money--with it!  I just want
to hurry through school as fast as I can so that I
do something that will help the boys and mother
along!  They'll want, maybe, to go to college!  I
think I'd like sometime to be a nurse!  I'm awfully
big and strong, you see, and mother has taught me
a lot of sensible things!"

"You be a nurse and I'll be a doctor!" exclaimed
Peggy.

"We've all told but you, Pat!"

"What are you going to be?"

Pat looked around the circle of earnest faces.  It
was a moment of noble thoughts, of precious
confidences!

"Girls, I'll tell you all a secret if you'll *promise*
not to tell!"

"We'll promise!"

"Cross your hearts?"

"Cross our hearts and on our scout's honor."

"Well"--Pat hitched along to the center of the
circle--"I'm going to be a poet!  And I'm writing
a ballad--*right now*," she mysteriously tapped her
pocket from which protruded a long pencil and a
corner of paper.  "And it's about Aunt Pen!"

"Aunt Pen!" cried Renée.

"Yes--*that's* the secret!  You think she's happy
but she has a secret sorrow and *I found it out*!"

"Oh, tell us!  What is it?  *Do* hurry, Pat!"

Pat's voice dropped to a fittingly sorrowful note.
"It was a disappointed love, I think!  That silly
malady even attacked poor Aunt Pen, though she
isn't like lots of people and doesn't go round with
a broken heart within her bosom and sighing and
weeping like they do in stories!  I guessed it when
she asked me so many questions about Captain
Allan, Renée's guardian, you know, and she looked
so funny and red when she was asking them just
like I do when I'm saying one thing but really
wanting to say another!  Then she wanted to see a letter
he had written to Renée and Renée brought it, and
I watched her face *and then I knew*!  It turned fiery
red and then white and she did the *queerest* thing--she
*kissed* that letter, real quick--just a plain letter
he'd written to Renée!  I couldn't believe my eyes
that it was Aunt Pen!  She *knew* I saw her and she
began to laugh and then to sort of cry!  She told
us that she was *sure* it was a Mr. Allan she had known
her senior year in college!  I begged her to tell more
but she just said 'there isn't any more to tell!' and
we couldn't get another word out of her!  Of course
Aunt Pen has a right to hide her own secret sorrow
away but she can't stop my putting it into a ballad!
Only I can't think of anything to rhyme with
'long'--except 'song' and I've used that!"

"Go right through the alphabet, Pat!  Bong,
cong, dong----"

"Now *don't* you girls tell a *soul* that I'm going to
be a poet!" Pat admonished.

Peggy sprang to her feet.  "Girls--let's make a
solemn pledge to stick to our ambitions and not let a
single thing stop us!  And we'll help one another!"

"We must have a pass-word!  Let's have it
'Steadfast!'"

"We ought to have a motto, too!"

"I know a Latin one, 'Labor omnia vincit!'
How's that?"

"Spliffy!  Now to do this right, girls, we must
have a ceremony!  Stand up--in a circle!  Hold
hands--thumbs in--like this!  Now all say the motto
together!  What was it, Keineth?"

Keineth repeated, "Labor omnia vincit!" and the
girls said it with her.

"Now, altogether--'Steadfast'--so we'll get
used to it!"

"Steadfast!" in hissing whispers.

Sheila was so thrilled that she was moved to
oratory!  "Girls, I know some day we're all going to be
*great*!  I just *feel* it!  And we'll look back to this
afternoon in our youth and say----"

"Steadfast!" giggled Peggy.

"Tat!  Tat!  Tat!  Tat!"

"Sh-h!  It's Aunt Pen!"

Aunt Pen, deserted below, had blackened her face
and put on her head a bright yellow turban, to look
as nearly as possible like Aunt Jemima of pancake
fame!  Now on a huge tray she bore a plate of
doughnuts and a pitcher of cider.  A noisy greeting
welcomed her into the Eyrie!

That night Renée was wakened by Pat's insistent
call in her ear.  The lights were burning and Pat was
standing over her, tragedy written in every line of
her face.  Alarmed, Renée sat bolt upright, her eyes
wide.

"Sh-h!  Don't be frightened!  It's just--I've
*lost* my ballad!"

Renée thought she must be dreaming--or was
Pat stark crazy?

"I couldn't sleep and I was thinking I'd change
that 'long' for 'carry,' 'cause there'r so many words
rhyme with that--and I looked in my pocket and it
was gone!"

Renée was aghast at the seriousness of the loss!
Putting on their slippers they stole down the stairs
and made a thorough search.  But they could find
no trace of the missing ballad!  At last Renée
persuaded the disconsolate Pat to go back to bed.

"Well, I'll *just* have to write it again!" she
sighed, digging her tired head into the pillow.
"Maybe this time I'll write it in prose 'cause it's
*such* a bother making words rhyme!  Only, poets
are *so* much nicer than just authors, don't you think
so, Renée?  Renée----"

But for the first time Renée failed to meet her
friend with sympathetic understanding--she
soundly sleeping!





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE GAME`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE GAME

.. vspace:: 2

"Renée!  Aunt Pen!  Guess!"  Pat climbed
the stairs two steps at a time.

"I'd guess that you had been running every inch
of the way home," laughed Aunt Pen, for Pat's
cheeks were scarlet from the outdoor air and her
hair was tumbling down about her ears.

"I should say I had!  Such *good* luck!  Or"--she
attempted to correct herself--"of course it isn't
exactly *good* luck, only--True Scott sprained her
ankle and I'm to play guard in the game tomorrow!"

"Oh, Pat, I'm so glad!  I *know* you'll win!"
and Renée looked as though she believed that the
Yellowbirds needed only Pat as one of their guards
to rout the Wasps in an overwhelming defeat!

"I'm glad you've been chosen to substitute, for
you have practiced so faithfully," declared Aunt Pen.
"It is hard on True, though!"

"Peggy says that maybe it's a kind Providence
that sprained her ankle, 'cause True didn't play as
well in the last game!  Of course, as Peg says, when
you're captain of a team you can't let friendship make
a *bit* of difference!  And she says if I play all right
in this game she thinks I'll be put on the team!  You
can just know I'm going to *try* my best!"

Aunt Pen had decided that Renée was not strong
enough as yet for the basketball practice.  Sometimes
she went with Pat to the gymnasium, carefully
keeping out of the way of the players but watching with
interest Pat's progress in the game; more often she
spent the hours when Pat was at practice, in painting,
working out new designs for her cards, reading or
walking with Aunt Pen.  Each day found the little
girl happier, more contented in her new home and
more passionately devoted to her new friends who
had brought into her life a wealth of affection and
interests she had never dreamed could exist.  Day
by day Aunt Pen saw the fragile body develop into
girlish strength and the timid spirit gain in courage
and confidence.  The shadow of her sorrows would
never completely leave her, but it had helped in
moulding and maturing the young mind and strengthening
it to meet whatever the future held for her.

Aunt Pen had found a fascination in Renée's
quiet company.

"One gets the impression that never a word
passes her lips quickly!  Sometimes she makes me
feel ashamed of my impulsiveness!" Penelope told
her brother one evening.  They had been talking
of her work with the girls.  Mr. Everett had asked:

"Well--is our larkspur budding?"

Aunt Pen, taking his question very seriously,
had answered modestly: "I don't know about the
Latin and Algebra but I *do* know that Pat is a
healthier, happier girl than she has ever been before,
and we may feel very proud of Renée when we turn
her over to Captain Allan!"

Pat was not there to see the color flood Aunt
Pen's face as she said these last words.

"We ought to hear from him soon!  I hope he
has been able to find out more concerning the child.
I do not like to question her too closely--I can see
that it makes her unhappy and homesick."

Penelope would have liked to have asked her
brother more concerning Renée's guardian but he
began to talk of something else.  Often, as she and
Renée sat or walked together, she allowed to creep
into her thoughts a rosy day-dream of that time when
the officer would come to claim his ward!

Pat upset her entire family with her preparations
for the all-important game!  She must have her
dinner early in order that a sufficient time for proper
digestion might elapse before her bed hour!  As
authority on this point she quoted rules which seemed
to have been laid down by their tyrannical captain.
She must have eggs, too; for her supper, and could
not dream of eating the steam pudding, rich with
dates and raisins, which Melodia had prepared.  It
would surely lie heavily in her stomach, make her
restless all night and stupid and sluggish the next
day!  A nice custard--Pat detested custards--she
must have!

Then for ten minutes early the next morning the
chandeliers of the house rattled in their brackets and
the pictures danced on the walls--not an earthquake,
only Pat, guard of the Yellowbirds, "just loosening
her muscles" in a process of gymnastics that included
everything she had ever heard of!

As the hour of the game approached the gymnasium
of the Lincoln School was a-flutter with color
and noisy with life.  Enthusiastic rooters from
Troop Nine, gaily decked with the green, gold and
black colors of the Wasps, were packed solidly against
one side of the room.  Equally brilliant and
boisterous were the upholders of the Yellowbirds!  As
they sang their troop songs they waved small yellow
flags and strands of ribbon.

An older girl from Troop Nine acted as umpire
and Captain Ricky as referee.  Peggy's face was a
comical mixture of sternness and entreaty as she
whispered a few last commands to her team.  Pat,
outwardly proud and calm, was inwardly quaking!
What if she should fail at any moment!  As the
game began she was seized with a terrible giddiness--the
room swam about her, she saw only a ridiculous
composite of eyes and noses and mouths and color
against the dancing walls!  Her feet were heavy like
lead and a long way from her!

Afterwards Pat could not have told at what
time or why this curious sensation left her!  She only
knew that suddenly everything cleared and she felt
that the only thing in the whole wide world that
mattered was keeping the alert forward, whom she
was guarding, from throwing a basket!  And the
faces and colors that had whirled a moment before
faded and left these two alone, in deadly combat!

The cheering that had been constant suddenly
ceased; the circle of spectators sat with bated breath
while the ball passed backward and forward, now a
basket thrown for the Wasps, in another moment
one for the Yellowbirds.  Occasionally a particularly
good play would bring forth a loud shout only
to have it hushed immediately in the suspense of
watching.  Renée and Aunt Pen sat side by side.
Aunt Pen had played basketball in her college days;
now she watched eagerly, admiring the splendid
guarding of the Wasps as generously as Peggy's
swift center work.  Renée just sat very still, saying
over and over to herself: "Oh--oh--oh!" with her
eyes fastened upon Pat's every move!

At the end of the first half the score stood
twenty-four to twenty-six in favor of the Wasps.
Peggy had a whispered word with Keineth who was
playing forward.  Her guard was a girl a head taller
than she; a little overwhelmed by this Keineth had
been slow in one or two of her plays!

The second half went on with quick, even play,
that now and then drew forth shouts of approval
from the spectators.  The Yellowbirds scored four
baskets only to have the Wasps, with brilliant team
work, recover their lead with four baskets!  The
Wasps' center shot the ball with a low throw to her
forward.  As she caught it the linekeeper sharply
pounded the floor with an Indian club.  "Over the
line," the referee declared.  "Yellowbirds have an
unguarded throw!"  Patricia was given the ball.
Renée shut her eyes--she could not watch!  But she
knew when Aunt Pen sprang to her feet that her Pat
had not failed.  With a movement quick as lightning
she had passed the ball to the other guard who in
turn had shot it back to center!  And while Aunt
Pen was still on her feet Peggy had thrown it to
Keineth who, with a low, lithe movement of her body,
ducked the wildly waving arms of her guard and
threw a basket!

"A tie!  *Now* for the test!" whispered Aunt
Pen, clutching Renée's hand so hard that it hurt.

For the next few minutes the ball passed swiftly
backward and forward, the guards and forwards
leaped and ran!  Each player, keyed to the utmost
effort, was everywhere at once, arms waving, eyes
alert to the slightest advantage or weakness in
defense!  A dreadful stillness held the room broken
only by the occasional low, sharp exclamations--like
pistol shots--of the players.  Peggy's face was pale;
again and again Keineth eluded her guard only to
find her, in a second, again towering before her!

The ball passed toward the Wasps' basket;
Patricia caught it and threw it toward the center;
Sheila, playing side-center, with a swift leap, gripped
it and threw it to Keineth.  But Keineth's guard
sent it hurtling back to the Wasps' center!  While
the spectators, conscious that this was the last and
crucial moment, rose to their feet in a body, the
Wasps' forward caught it and, swift as lightning,
threw it backward over her head straight down
through the basket!  The referee's whistle ended the
game--the Wasps had won!

It was always customary, following the Troop
games, to have a spread for the contesting teams.
Almost always the players laid aside immediately
all joy of victory, sting of defeat and bitterness of
contest and threw themselves heart and soul into a
general frolic!  But this afternoon the atmosphere
was charged with resentment!  While the triumphant
Wasps gathered noisily in their corner the
Yellowbirds sulked in another part of the room.  Captain
Ricky and her assistants had gone to prepare the
goodies.  There was no one to check the rapidly
rising tide of complaint and criticism!

"She *did* only have one hand on the ball--I
could swear now!" "The line watchers *weren't*
fair, I *saw* her foot go over!" and "She just shoved
me!" "Who'd *ever* expect her to throw over her
head!" and "I *saw* that center walk *three whole
steps* with the ball and the umpire *never* called a
foul!"  The mutterings grew louder and the word
"cheat" penetrated to the corner.

Captain Ricky, coming into the room, heard it,
too.  She guessed in a moment, by the expression of
the girls' faces, what had been happening!  She
drew them close about her.

"*Girls!  Girls!*"  They had never heard just that
tone in their captain's voice.  "What is this spirit
you are showing!  I have *always* been so proud of
you--so *sure* of you!  And I was very proud to-day!
You played a brilliant game!  You were only
defeated because the other team played even a better
game!  If each one of you feels that she played
her very best, then there is not a complaint that can
be made!  You were outplayed--and just because
you are the good players you have shown yourselves
to be--why, you should be quick and generous in
your praise of the better work of the other team!
I am disappointed, my scouts!  I want you to remember
always that I'd lots rather have you good losers--if
you've done your best--than winners!  If you will
learn that it will help you years from now when you
are playing more serious and difficult games than
basket-ball!  And it will teach you to turn defeat
into a real blessing!"

The Yellowbirds had stood with drooping
plumage while their leader spoke.  Each one was
ashamed.  Peggy was the first to speak.  Throwing
back her dark head she stalked across the room to
where Cora Simmons, who had played center for the
Wasps, stood in a group of Troop Nine scouts.

"I'm *just* ashamed of myself!" she cried,
"'cause I didn't shake hands with you the moment
the game was over and tell you how well you
played!"  There was no questioning the sincere ring
in Peggy's voice.

The other Yellowbirds followed her example,
and soon there was a babble of voices going over
in most friendly discussion the crucial moments of
the game.  Now the defeated players were determined
that there should be no stint to their praise
of the work of the Troop Nine girls!

"Let's have a cheer-ring!" cried Peggy, and
immediately each Yellowbird caught a Wasp by the
shoulder and formed a close circle.  The room rang
with their cheers; Troop Six cheered for Troop Nine
and Troop Nine cheered for Troop Six, and then,
they all cheered for the Girl Scouts!

Pat, wanting to free her soul before her whole
world of whatever guilt might lie between it and
Captain Ricky's approval, loudly clapped her hands
and demanded that they all listen while she confessed
to them that she was sure she had once even pinched
the forward she was guarding and that "she had
been a perfect *peach* not to tell!"

Pat's declaration caused peals of laughter which
quickly burst into shouts of delight when Captain
Ricky's lieutenant called loudly from the doorway,
"*Eats!*"  And the afternoon ended with the happiness
and contentment found in good fellowship!





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.. _`THE CHRISTMAS PARTY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE CHRISTMAS PARTY

.. vspace:: 2

Christmas was drawing near with all its promise
of joy.  And the world wrapped for so long in the
gloom of war, took on a new gladness; weeks before
the holiday, doors and windows were hung with
holly, stores spread out a fascinating array of
giftwares; a new light shone in smiling faces as though
"Peace on earth" was ringing through the souls of
the people!

Pat's head was bursting with plans for the blessed
holiday.  It must be a different Christmas from any
Renée had ever known!  For days they had busied
themselves preparing the box that had gone to
St. Cloud--a dress for Susette and some aprons that
Renée herself had made, tobacco for Gabriel and
warm slippers and shoes for them both; sugar, coffee,
and canned goods and dried fruits until Renée was
sure Susette's neat shelves would groan under their
weight.  And in a heart-shaped silver frame a
picture of Renée!

Pat declared that they must have a Christmas
tree, for Renée had never had one!  And even though
they were quite grown-up they must also hang up
their stockings!  Aunt Pen and Daddy promised to
hang theirs, too, so that Pat and Renée spent many
an afternoon in secret shopping tours, returning with
mysterious packages which were carefully hidden
away in the Eyrie.

Then a letter from the south, whose usual cheery
tone was tinged with a little homesickness, made
Mr. Everett decide to join his wife for the holiday season.
At first Pat rebelled stormily, lamenting that his
going would spoil everything; then for days she
sulked like a naughty child until Aunt Pen came to
the rescue!  From spending the afternoon with
Peggy Lee's mother, Aunt Pen returned, with a "secret!"

"What is it, Aunt Pen?  *Can* we know?" the
girls asked eagerly.

"Yes, you will be *in* the "secret!"  It's a--*real*
Christmas party!  And it will be different from any
you've ever heard of before!  I'll tell you the plans
we discussed and then we'll get your father's
permission.  I know when you hear all about it you'll
smile again, Miss Pat, and declare that this *is* going
to be the best Christmas you've ever had--even with
Daddy away!"

"Will the party be here?" asked Pat, recalling
on the instant some very lovely parties given for her
sister which she, because she was too little to go
downstairs, had had to watch over the stair banister.

"No, I don't believe the house would be big
enough for this one," and Penelope laughed at the
mystified expression on Pat's face.

Then Aunt Pen unfolded the plans she and Mrs. Lee
had made.  The girls of the Troop would be the
hostesses of this party and the guests would be the
men, women and children in the neighborhood of the
Works.  There must, of course, be a tree, and the
girls could arrange tableaux and then everyone could
sing and dance!  And there would be sandwiches
and coffee and ice cream and cake and a gift for
each one.

Gradually into Pat's face crept a deep interest
so that when the last small detail had been explained
the smile that Aunt Pen had prophesied came back
once more.  It would be a *wonderful* party, and could
they begin planning the tableaux right away and
couldn't they run over this very minute and tell
Sheila?

So that Mr. Everett's going made scarcely a break
in the exciting preparations, the rehearsals, the
arranging of costumes, the planning of the party
"supper" and the gifts for the guests.  In
desperation Aunt Pen declared that the holidays might as
well begin at once as it was impossible to hold Pat
down to any lessons!  And Renée, too, was working
feverishly, completing a rush order for Christmas
cards that had come to "LaDue and Everett" from
Miss Higgin's tea room!

On Christmas Eve the Eyrie was emptied of the
treasures it had held, the stockings hanging over
the library fireplace were filled and little piles of
tissue paper packages of all sizes were made for
Jasper, Melodia and Maggie.  The rooms were filled
with a spicy odor of hemlock; holly hung over
window and door.

"Oh, isn't it fun?" laughed Pat, stepping back
to survey the bulging stockings.  "Can you *guess*
what's in anything, Ren?  And don't you wish you
were little again and really truly believed in Santa
Claus?"

"Susette used to tell me stories of the real
St. Nicholas--she said he was the patron saint of
children!"

"Well, *I* like to think of him as a jolly old fellow
driving his reindeers faster'n Watkins can drive the
car--and lots of jingling bells!  I think about it and
then I can most hear them!"

Renée had gone to one of the windows at the
end of the room to peer out into the darkness.  Snow
had fallen which dulled the sounds of the city to a
musical tone not unlike distant bells of the good
Santa.  Suddenly she called to Pat:

"Come and look--over at Sheila's!"

There on the strip of lawn before the old brick
house was a Christmas tree, hung with tinsel and
twinkling with lighted candles that swayed and
blinked in the darkness.

That was Mrs. Quinn's merry Christmas!  She
and the children had hung ropes of tinsel, red and
gold balls, sparkling hearts and rings and little
candles out on the old spruce that grew in the corner
of the yard.

"To give to any poor body going by that maybe
hasn't any Christmas just a bit of the brightness!"
she had explained.

Renée, watching from between the library curtains,
thought it very beautiful!  It was like a fairy
tree, placed there in the darkness by spirit hands,
breathing from its fragrant brightness a joy that all
could share!  Even at that moment they could see
a bent old man, leading a little boy by the hand,
lingering to stare at the twinkling lights!

Many years before this the Everett Works had
been moved from the modest factory not far from
the Everett home, where it had had its beginning, to
the great pile of steel and concrete buildings
distantly removed from the business center of the city.
Immediately there sprang up on the stretches of
fields intervening between the smoky walls of the new
plant and the quiet shaded streets where the Lees and
the Everetts and the Randolphs lived, a community
of small, shapeless houses, one exactly like the other,
divided by half-paved streets with their rows of
sickly infant elms and maples; with muddy backyards
barricaded by miles and miles of clothes-line,
and thousands of window-panes blackened by the
incessant rain of soot from the belching chimneys.
Though the suburb had the beautiful name of Riverview,
suggestive of cool breezes and open spaces, it
was always and more fittingly known as "The
Neighborhood."

To the hundreds of little dingy homes had come
men, women and children from every land of the
globe--here Liberty offered them asylum and the
Everett Works an honest living.  In the center of the
community the Works had erected a splendid
schoolhouse and had presented it to the city.  Although
its outer walls were soon stained and blackened like
the rows of houses, its interior was as fresh and
attractive as clean paint, pictures and many growing
plants could make it!  Here the children of the
foreign-speaking parents were taught to be true
Americans.  And in its big assembly room, whose windows
looked out over the rows and rows of railroad tracks
with their solid wall of motionless freight cars, to the
river and open fields beyond, the girls of Troop Six
held their Christmas party.

Even before the last holly wreath had been
fastened in place the guests began to come--whole
families at a time, in holiday attire that to Pat made them
look like pictures in some fairy-tales; old men and old
women, younger men with hands still grimy from
their work, younger women with tired faces and
babies in their arms; some eager, some a little shy, all
smiling.

Pat, peeping out from behind the curtain,
declared that there were hundreds there and that
they were talking in every language known--except
Latin!  But when some one at the piano began to
play "America," in some way or other the strange
words melted into a common tongue--the high treble
of the children carrying the song along!

A hush fell on the audience when the curtains
of the stage slowly parted to show the first of the
tableaux.  Briefly John Randolph, Keineth's father,
told in Polish the story of the landing of the
Pilgrims on "the stern and rockbound coast" while
on the stage the Pilgrims, with painfully suppressed
laughter, struggled to keep the *Mayflower*, made
out of old canvas and chairs, from falling to pieces!

The next picture showed the early colonists
making treaties with the Indians.  Sheila, grave and
dignified in Puritan collar and hat, was holding out
strings of gay beads to an Indian chief, resplendent
in paint and feathers, who carried over his arm the
hides that the colonists needed.  Then in simple
words Mr. Randolph explained how the first
purchases of land in the United States came about.

Peggy made an impressive George Washington
at Valley Forge, while Garrett Lee and some of his
friends sat about a smouldering camp-fire.  Again
she appeared with Betsey Ross, who was stitching
on the first American flag, which part Keineth played.
But Washington's dignified manner was sadly spoiled
when his wig suddenly slipped to one side, so that
poor Betsey had to bite her lips very hard to keep
from giggling at his rakish appearance!  Nevertheless
the audience--especially the children who recognized
in the picture a favorite school story--clapped
loudly with genuine enthusiasm.

The last tableau, everyone declared, was the best
of all!  Captain Ricky was America, standing in
white robes against a big American flag, her arms
outstretched to the eager pilgrims who approached
her!  And these were dressed in the national
costumes of almost every country on the globe; some
had approached, apparently, with brave step, heads
high and shoulders straight, others had come wearily;
some were old and some were young; many had been
carrying heavy burdens which they had cast aside.
And from the wrists of each hung the broken links
of the shackles that had bound them!

The tableau told its own story!  For a moment
there was a hushed silence, then a mighty applause
shook the room.  And Captain Ricky, as though she
indeed embodied the gracious spirit of America,
smiled back from the stage at the men and women
who, like the pilgrims in the picture, had come to this
land of freedom!

After this tableau the curtains at the back of
the stage were drawn back, displaying a beautiful
Christmas tree, trimmed only by the many lights
half-concealed in its branches and by a huge, gleaming
star at its top.  Some of the scouts at one corner
of the stage began a simple Christmas carol--the
guests took it up, humming where they could not
speak the words.  A group of young men broke
into a Polish song; other songs followed--songs that
these people had brought with them across the sea.

"They are more beautiful than ours!" cried
Keineth to her father.

Then, under Captain Ricky's direction, the
trimming of the tree began.  This was a surprise even
to the girls of the Troop, who sat with bright eyes
watching.  For each one in the room who had had
a son, a brother, a husband or a father in the service
of the country, was given a silver star to hang upon
the branches of the tree.  One by one they went
up--at first shyly, then proudly; bent old men with
uncertain step, young wives, blushing, with children
tugging at their skirts; old women, scarcely understanding
it all but eager to hang their symbol, until the tree
was a-twinkle with the gleaming stars!

From long tables in one of the classrooms adjoining
steaming, fragrant coffee in big cups and turkey
and chicken sandwiches were served, then ice cream
and cake.  Everyone talked at once--the children
ran round in complete abandonment to the joy of
the moment; some of the guests, too excited to eat,
had already begun the dancing!

And Mrs. Lee and Aunt Pen were busy distributing
among them all the small silk American flags
which were the gifts of the evening!

"It's the *best* party *ever*," Pat stopped long
enough in a whirling dance to whisper to Aunt Pen.

"Where's Renée?" Aunt Pen answered.

After a moment's search she found her alone
behind the big tree.  She was fastening upon one
of the branches her silver star!  Tears dampened
her cheeks.

"Oh--*my dear*!" cried Aunt Pen.  Over her
swept the realization of what Renée had given that
"peace might come upon this world!"  She caught
the small hand and held it.

"Not *there*," she whispered, "but *here*!" and
taking the star she hung it close to the big Star at
the top.

"He gave his Son for us, too," she added softly.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`HILL-TOP`:

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   CHAPTER XIV


.. class:: center medium bold

   HILL-TOP

.. vspace:: 2

"Picnics," explained Peggy, with a conviction
born of experience, "are just as much fun in the
winter as they are in the summer, 'specially when
they are at Hill-top!"

For the four days following Christmas snow had
fallen steadily.  Each moment of the holiday time
had been filled with out-of-door fun: now Mrs. Lee
had suggested that--as a sort of climax--the Eagle
Patrol have a picnic at Hill-top!

Pat had never heard of a picnic in the middle of
the winter!

But Peggy's enthusiasm was contagious!  Hilltop--Pat
had never been there--was a very old farmhouse
ten miles from the city, back in the hills near
Camp Wichita, where Captain Ricky took her girls
in the summer-time.  It belonged to an old man and
his wife who had been friends of Mrs. Lee's father.
During the winter months they preferred to move
into a more sheltered cottage nearer the barns.  The
house--a short walk from the lake on which the
young people skated in the winter and canoed in the
summer--had great square rooms and many of them,
warmed by fire-places like caverns that consumed
whole logs at a time.  Often Mrs. Lee, who found
real recreation in such little excursions with her
young people--had taken the girls and boys there
for week-end picnics!

"Mother says we may stay three whole days this
time!  We can skate and coast and have all kinds of
fun!  Garrett has a new bob that he made and he
says he'll bet anything it can beat all the others."

"Do the boys go, too?" broke in Pat.

"Oh, yes, mother likes to have them go!  They
help a lot, you see, and she says it wouldn't be nearly
as much fun if they weren't along.  Jim Archer
and Bob Slocum and Ted Scott and maybe Wynne
Meade will go--and Garrett!  They're *sort* of fun!"
for Peggy read disappointment in Pat's face.

"*I* think boys are a nuisance!"

Sheila came promptly to the defense.
"Perhaps--sometimes!  But brothers are nice!"

Pat's experience had been limited to the bashful
young brothers, miserable with too much scrubbing
and stiff collars, who had occasionally visited the
other girls at school.

Peggy thought it a decided waste of time to be
bothering over such a point when there was so much
to plan and do!  So, with a conviction intended to
end the discussion, she said: "Well, they carry the
logs and the water and go out and open the house
and I guess we'll find them mighty useful!"

And, indeed, Pat *was* to find one of the boys
more than useful before the picnic was over!

A few hours' well-organized activity put everything
in readiness for the house-party.  Garrett Lee
appointed himself chief of the commissary and flew
tirelessly between his home and the grocery store
until he had assembled enough cans of soup, bacon,
weiners and other eatables peculiar to scouts'
appetites to feed a regiment!  Sheila and Mrs. Lee, after
a brief consultation, added to the equipment many
little necessities that Garrett in his masculine
ignorance had overlooked.  Two of the other girls
collected the necessary kitchen utensils and a simple
first-aid kit.  Loaded down with all these and with
extra blankets and the bobs, the boys and Mrs. Lee
went on out to Hill-top a day in advance to open
the house and prepare it for the others.

Pat, inspired by the activities of the others and
not having been pressed into troop service, busied
herself by packing and repacking almost every
garment that she and Renée possessed!

"Patsy, dear, you *won't* need all those things,"
Aunt Pen had laughed, pointing to the bulging
suitcase.

Pat admitted this.  "Well, it's fun packing 'em
and I just had to do something," she confessed.

The next day eight merry girls boarded the funny
little train that puffed off slowly toward the hills.
To Renée the picnic was the most exciting of
adventures!  She had seen little snow--never in her life
anything like the great piles, snowy white, through
which the train was snorting its way!  She had never
had on a pair of skates in her life, nor had she ever
coasted down a hill!  And as Peggy told of Garrett's
new bob, "Madcap," and its lightning speed, she
shivered with an ecstasy of fear and wondered--if
they made her ride on it--what it would feel like to
fly over the snow and whether she might not just
die outright of terror!

The boys, in rollicking spirits and muffled to the
tips of their noses, met them at the station; together
they trudged back through the snow to the
farmhouse.  Logs were crackling merrily in the big
fireplaces and a table had been spread ready for an early
supper.  The girls fell to unpacking the equipment
and spreading their blankets over the funny old beds
and the cots which had been brought up from the
nearby camp.  Sheila, who had been appointed
officer-in-charge, promptly, in accordance with the
custom of scout outings, posted in a conspicuous
place, the "standing rules."

"Oh, they're the kind of rules any good scout'll
keep," Peggy exclaimed to Pat, who was regarding
the slip of paper in amazement with a look on her
face that said plainly "this is the funniest picnic
I ever knew!"  "Come on and find the others!"

For supper they ate many baked potatoes and
weiners and hot biscuits, which Mrs. Lee had mixed
and baked by magic--"just to have a nice
beginning!"  At the table the boys announced the schedule
for the skating and coasting races which they had
planned for the next day and fell to arguing with
friendly violence over the speed of their different
bobs!  Garrett then insisted that the four who had
grabbed the last of the biscuits should make up the
Kitchen Police, whose duty it would be to clear
away the supper dishes!  And to the accompaniment
of a mighty rattle of china plates and cups the others
gathered around the blazing fire and sang.

Pat and Renée slept together in a huge four-posted
bed.  Gradually the big house had grown
very quiet.  "Isn't it fun?" Pat giggled into Renée's
ear.  "I've never been in the country in the
winter-time before!  And doesn't it feel *queer* sleeping
without sheets?"  Then she sighed.  "I wish I
could skate well!"  She was thinking of the races
planned for the morrow.  Renée was apprehensive,
too.  "Do you suppose they'll make me go down
on one of those dreadful bobs?" and she shuddered
at the very thought!

Poor Pat, her pride--cropping up now and
then--was her besetting sin!  And the next morning,
when she should have been gloriously happy, it
mastered her!  She *hated* the races, because she was
always lagging along in the rear!  She declared to
herself that the boys were silly, tiresome stupids,
because they made *such* a fuss when Peggy beat
them all in a race down the lake and back!  Finally,
disgusted, she took off the hateful skates and joined
Renée near the bank.

"I think they're *stupid*," she grumbled, digging
her heel into the ice and not explaining whether she
meant the boys, or the skates or the races!

The coasting in the afternoon comforted her a
little!  Jim Archer let her steer his "Gypsy!"  They
beat Garrett's "Madcap" and Pat secretly rejoiced
at Garrett's chagrin!

Renée, from the top of the long hill, had watched
the flight of the bobs with trembling fascination.

"Come along on Madcap," Garrett had called
out.  The three girls on it waved entreatingly to her.
She had not the courage to refuse!  White with
terror she slipped in between Garrett and Peggy.
The others shouted wildly as the bob began to move
slowly down the hill but poor Renée's breath caught
in her throat.  As it went faster and faster she hid
her face against Garrett's wooly back.

"Hang on!" cried Peggy behind her.  Renée
was certain they were flying!  But just as she felt she
*must* die with terror a wild "hurrah" went up, she
opened her eyes--they were sliding over the ice at the
bottom of the hill and the Madcap had won!

And to Renée's utter amazement she wanted to
go down again--*right away*!

Afterwards Garrett let her steer the bob, and
although they ended in a snowdrift and were almost
buried in the soft snow, it did not in any way dampen
her enthusiasm over the new sport she had learned!

"Oh, it was *wonderful*!" she exclaimed to Pat
as they walked with the others toward Hill-top.
"I thought I'd be so frightened and I wasn't!"

"Jim Archer's bob is much the best," Pat
answered in such a disagreeable voice that Renée
looked at her in hurt astonishment!  How *could*
there be enough difference in two bobs to make Pat
speak to her in that tone!

However, hot oyster soup and pancakes scattered
for a time the little cloud that threatened and through
the meal Pat's voice was as merry as the merriest.
After supper, leaving the Kitchen Police to their sad
lot, the others again donned caps, sweaters and
mittens and fell to building in front of the old
farmhouse door two great snow forts, between which, in
the morning, a mighty battle would be waged!

And Jim Archer, one of the self-appointed generals,
asked Pat--before he asked any of the others--to
be on his side!

This was balm to Pat's hurt vanity.  Perhaps
she couldn't skate as well as the others, but she
guessed Jim Archer knew she could throw a snowball
as straight and as hard as any boy!  Anyway,
Garrett Lee was too conceited!  So that night, as she
slept cuddled down in the big four-posted bed, she
dreamed that she stood alone on the frosty
breastwork of the fort she had helped build and by an
onslaught of snowballs, thrown with unerring aim,
drove Garrett Lee and his army to complete and
ignominious surrender!

Poor Pat--the next day was to bring to her pride
a sad fall!





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`PAT'S PRIDE AND ITS FALL`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XV


.. class:: center medium bold

   PAT'S PRIDE AND ITS FALL

.. vspace:: 2

The next morning a bright sun peeped up over
the hills touching field and lake, trees and
house-tops with a frost of diamonds.  At an early hour
hungry boys and girls were demanding their breakfast
"quick" and were hurling orders over the banister
at the sleepy Kitchen Police, toiling below.

The snow-ball fight ended in a complete rout
of Garrett's army, which put Pat in high spirits,
and, although it had not been quite like her dream
of the night before, Jim Archer *had* said to her,
to her secret joy:

"Say, you throw as good as a boy!"

The remainder of the morning was spent playing
hockey and coasting; the boys allowing the girls to
race the bobs down the hill.  Renée, quite by herself,
steered the beautiful Madcap twice to victory!
Perhaps never in her life had she felt so keenly alive
or so happy!  She stood looking over the little lake
and the surrounding hills and drawing in long
breaths of the frosty air.  Its keenness made her
cheeks and fingertips tingle, put a ringing note in the
youthful voices around her and an added brightness
into happy eyes!

"Let's all just skate this afternoon--no races
or anything like that!" declared Peggy at luncheon
and the suggestion met with instant approval.

"Oh, *don't* you wish we were just coming?  Did
you ever know days to go by so fast?" lamented one
of the others.

"This hasn't gone by yet!  To-night we're going
to toast marshmallows!" put in Bob Slocum.

"And have a good sing!  We always end a
picnic that way!" explained Peggy to Pat.

"And breakfast bright and early to-morrow, so
that we will be all packed in time for the----"

"Lightning mail train!" Garrett added to his
mother's injunction.

Mrs. Lee was never happier than when she was
with her "boys and girls!"  She loved each and
every one of them as though they had all been hers
from babyhood.  She watched them now as they
trooped away toward the lake, skates jingling over
their arms.  Something within her quivered with
pardonable pride as her eyes rested for a moment on
Garrett's manly young figure striding on ahead of
the others.  And when Peggy's voice, always boyishly
loud, reached her ears as she shouted back to
one of the other girls, her mother shook her head
and laughed: "Oh, Peggy child, what a tomboy!"

For Pat the skating was much more fun, now,
when there were no races!  More accustomed to her
skates she managed to get over the ice in better
and easier fashion than she had on the day before.
She was pleasantly conscious, too, that she made a
rather pretty picture in her scarlet sweater and
tam-o'-shanter--several of the girls had declared that
they were going to immediately make red tams.

"Let's have a turn, Pat!" and Garrett Lee
extended two warmly mittened hands in genial
invitation.  So Pat linked her arms with his and together
they flew over the glittering stretch.  With her
balance supported by Garrett's strong grasp she skated
easily; as they sped along down the length of the
lake the wind whipped her breath and sent the blood
bounding through her veins!

At the end of the lake they stopped "to take in
air," as Garrett put it.

"Let's skate down there," cried Pat, pointing to
the Inlet just beyond.  There a narrow gorge,
cutting deeply through the hillsides, let into the lake.
Garrett knew that, because of its steep banks, its
changing depths of water and strong eddies, the
ice there was very unsafe.

"Oh, no, it's dangerous there!  We never go
into the Inlet, even in the summer!  That's a rule!"

Poor Pat--she fancied Garrett was treating her
like a little child!  So she answered with a toss of
her head:

"I haven't bothered to read the rules!  I'm not
afraid--if you are!" and she turned toward the
Inlet.

"Pat--don't!  It *isn't* safe--honest!"

The more earnest and concerned Garrett grew
the more headstrong Pat!  She started toward the
Inlet, calling over her shoulder: "Oh, you're just
a 'fraidy-cat'!"

Garrett watched her for a moment.  There was
no doubting her intention!  He started after her
and at the mouth of the Inlet overtook her.

"Pat," he begged, "mother'll be angry!  I tell
you it's one of the rules!"

But Pat simply shrugged her shoulders.

"*Dare* you to come with me, little boy!" she
laughed teasingly.  The Inlet, its banks rising steeply
on each side, filled with dancing shadows made by
the sun through the bare branches meeting overhead,
looked very inviting!  Thrilled with a sense of
adventure, Pat skated with short strokes into the
narrow opening.

Garrett had no choice but to follow her!  Deeply
alarmed, he again begged her to turn back!  Now
she pretended not to hear him!

But in a few moments she suddenly screamed and
wildly waved her arms!  At a bend in the narrow
gorge the ice had cracked under her weight!

"Garrett!" she cried, turning.

"*Go on!  Keep moving!*" he shouted.  But Pat,
terror-stricken, stood still, stretching out her arms
imploringly.  Garrett reached her just as the ice
with a sharp crackle broke into pieces, dropping
them both into the water.

Its iciness for a moment stunned Pat.  Then
she slowly realized that Garrett was supporting her
with one arm and begging her to cling to the thin
edge of the ice, to which he was holding with his
other hand.  His steady voice gave her courage!
She tried to say something but her teeth only
chattered together.

"We'll get out all right!" Garrett said,
hopefully.  "Hold on as lightly as you can!"

"Oh, don't let go of me--don't let go of me!"
implored Pat, wanting to cry.

"I won't!  Keep up your nerve!"  And Garrett
strengthened his hold under Pat's arm.  He looked
about him.  From a tree growing out of the bank
stretched a bare limb just a little way out of reach.

"We'll work along slowly until you can reach
that branch!  Take it easy, Pat!"

He began moving his grasp on the edge of the
ice, slowly, cautiously, for sometimes it cracked,
sending terror to Pat's soul!  She recalled hearing
someone tell how very deep the water was in the Inlet!
And it was *so* black and cold!

"Come on!  We'll make it!" he called out
cheerily.  They drew nearer and nearer the branch;
soon Pat could reach it.

"Now let go of the ice and grab it!  I'll hold you!"

"Oh no, no!" implored Pat, clinging tighter.

"You've *got* to, Pat!  It's our only chance!"  Summoning
all the strength he had in his fine young
body he lifted her as he spoke!  The effort made
great veins swell on his forehead.  With a gasp of
terror she caught and clung with both arms to the
branch.

"Get your legs around it, too," directed Garrett.
"Now work yourself along!  *Hurry*, Pat!"

Stung into effort Pat with feverish haste did as
he told her.  Securing her hold on the branch by
locking her strong legs about it she gradually swung
around until she was astride it.  Then it was but
a moment's work to edge along to the bank.  Grasping
the strong roots of the undergrowth she pulled
herself to the top.  She wanted dreadfully then to
throw herself down upon the ground and cry, but
a sharp noise below made her turn suddenly.

Garrett had attempted to lift himself upon the
branch.  Strained by Pat's weight, under his it
snapped off, dropping him back into the water.

"Garrett!" screamed Pat.  In agony she watched
for his head to reappear at the surface of the water.
As he came up he again caught the edge of the ice,
but his face was gray and drawn as though by sharp
pain and his breath came and went in short gasps.
She called him vainly over and over but he could not
seem to muster enough strength to answer!  She
fancied, in her terror, that his fingers were slipping
in their hold of the ice.

It was *her* turn to direct!

"Garrett, move down!  See, the tree's across the
ice!  Maybe it'll hold!  Oh, Garrett, *try*!"

With a slow, cramped movement he worked
along the edge of the rapidly enlarging hole until
he could grasp the broken branch which stretched
now across the dark water, one end firmly held in a
crack of the ice where it had buckled near the bank.
Strengthened by desperation, Garrett managed to
crawl along it until he reached the bank.  As,
numbed by exposure, he struggled to lift himself
up the steep side of the gorge, clinging for support,
as Pat had done, to roots and branches, repeatedly
slipping back, it seemed to Pat as though he could
not make it!  At last her own frantic hands dragged
him over the top to safety, only to have him drop
in an unconscious heap at her feet!

All Pat knew was that whatever she had to do
she must do quickly!  Loosening the straps of her
skates she threw them from her!  Then she attempted
to lift him.  He was too heavy--she could not stagger
a step with his weight in her arms.  So as gently
as she could she dragged him over the soft snow to a
higher point of open ground from which she could
see the lake and the skaters and the farmhouse!

"Girls!  Girls!  Jim!" she called frantically.
They could not hear--only the echo of her own voice
answered.

"What *will* I do?" she cried.  She tore off her
bright tam-o'-shanter and waved it high in the air!
Suddenly she saw one of the girls detach herself!
from a group of skaters and wave back!

An inspiration seized Pat!  The semaphore code
she had learned!  Oh, could she remember it quickly
enough?  And poor Garrett himself had taught her!
Snatching off her sweater she waved that in one
hand and her tam in the other and slowly signaled:

"Accident--bring bobs--blankets--quick!"

It seemed to Pat as though they would *never*
answer!  She waved her message again--more
slowly!  Then one of the boys waved back:
"Coming."

*Now* Pat began to cry--tears that left cold
streaks on her own cheeks and splashed in a warm
shower on Garrett's face as she knelt over him.  He
slowly opened his eyes and whispered, "All right,
Pat?"  Then, as though very tired, he closed them
again and lapsed back into unconsciousness.

There was no more merriment at Hill-top!  The
boys brought Garrett, wrapped in blankets, on one of
the bobs to the door of the farmhouse where his
mother, warned of the accident, awaited him.  No
one would let poor Pat tell her story--there was too
much to be done!  While Mrs. Lee and Sheila cared
for Garrett, the girls gave Pat a hot bath and a
vigorous rub and put her to bed.  And Jim Archer
flew to the nearest telephone to summon a doctor and
nurse from the city.

Garrett was very, very ill!  Weakened by the
exposure and strain he quickly developed pneumonia.
The doctor would not let him be moved, he must
remain at Hill-top!  Mrs. Lee, brave with all her
anxiety, begged the boys and girls to go back to the
city quietly, not to worry, but to hope for Garrett's
quick recovery!  Sheila and Jim Archer she kept
with her to help her.  At the earliest possible moment
came Mr. Lee with a trained nurse.

Pat, none the worse for her icy bath of the day
before, lingered behind the others and miserably
begged for a parting word with Mrs. Lee.

"It was *all* my fault," she whispered, bursting
into tears.  "I called him a fraidy-cat and went on,
just so's he'd follow----"

Though Mrs. Lee took the girl in her arms, her
face was very grave.  But she guessed the suffering
in Pat's heart, so she spoke kindly.

"Child, I am glad he *didn't* leave you!  You
must help us fight for him now and--well, he just
*must* get well!"  For a moment she could not keep
her own tears back; then she resolutely wiped them
away as much as to say, "*this* isn't fighting!"

Anxious days followed.  Every morning and
every evening Jim Archer telephoned to the Everett
home from Hill-top a report of Garrett's condition.
Sometimes there would be a word of encouragement--then
he would be a degree worse!  Pat, pale as a
ghost, scarcely speaking to anyone, trembling at
every sound, in spite of all Aunt Pen's and Renée's
efforts, refused to be cheered or comforted!  She
spent almost all her time in the Eyrie with the door
locked.

"I'm downright worried!" Aunt Pen said to
Pat's father, who fortunately had returned in the
midst of the trouble and anxiety.  "*Whatever* does
the child do in that room all by herself?"

No one would ever know!  In the most shadowy
corner of the Eyrie Pat had crept and there she
had found strength to bear the suspense!  Kneeling
before one of the old broken chairs, she repeated
over and over a little prayer she had made:

"Please God, make Garrett well!  He was so
brave and I was so wicked!  I'm the one you ought
to punish!  Please make him well and I'll never,
never be wicked again!"

Sometimes she would vary the wording of her
little prayer and once, thinking that perhaps her
clumsy sentences might not reach the Father's ear,
she carried a prayer-book to the Eyrie and slowly,
with great emphasis, repeated the prayer for the
sick that she had often heard in church.

Going downstairs from one of these vigils in the
Eyrie she heard Sheila's voice.  Her heart stopped
beating with an instant's fear!  She rushed into the
room where Sheila was talking to Aunt Pen and her
Daddy.

"He is----"  She could not make herself ask
the question.

Sheila turned.  Her tired face was bright with
joy.  "Garrett's better!  He will get well!  We
didn't telephone because I wanted to tell you!  I had
to come home, for mother needed me."

"Really, truly?"  Pat could scarcely believe that
the black shadow was lifted from her.  Sheila
nodded laughingly.

"Really, truly!  The doctor says he has a wonderful
constitution!  And we're all so glad, because
we love Mrs. Lee so much!"

With quivering lips Pat turned and threw
herself into her father's arms.  There was so much
she wanted to tell--of her silly vanity, her wicked
recklessness, her leading another into danger, but the
words would not come!

"I'll always remember--how he looked--up on
the bank!" she shuddered, her face hidden against
her father's coat.  "I asked God to make him well
and He did, and I guess I'll remember never--to
be--wicked again!"  And as though he understood how
truly repentant poor Pat was, her dear Daddy patted
her shoulder and held her very close.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`GOOD TURNS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVI


.. class:: center medium bold

   GOOD TURNS

.. vspace:: 2

The winter days passed quickly in the Everett
household.  Each moment was filled with work or
play.  And so delightfully intermingled was the play
with the work that the girls found themselves tackling
their Latin verbs with the same zest they threw
into their outdoor recreation.

In spite of the holidays and the suspense of
Garrett Lee's illness the routine of Aunt Pen's
"school" had been renewed with little difficulty.
Pat, who always before had been very indifferent
to the report system followed at Miss Prindle's,
suddenly developed deep concern and pride in the reports
that Aunt Pen carefully prepared at the end of each
week to show Daddy and then tucked away in the
spinnet desk to wait mother's return.  She was
improving in her Latin and her French; she could
write a letter now with only one or two misspelled
words; she tackled the difficult problems in Algebra
in a fine fighting spirit, and with great pride--after
many mortifying failures--was able to set before her
father three beautifully browned loaves of bread!

Daddy had declared that such triumph must have
its reward and had carried them all--pupils and
teacher--off to the theatre to see "Penrod."

The Eaglets still gathered in the Eyrie.  How
much nearer each was coming to her ambitions no
one of them could tell--that they were still
steadfastly true to their pledge to help one another was
certain; unconsciously perhaps, they did it by the
strength of their friendship.

"LaDue and Everett" had developed a thriving
business.  Pat, quite all by herself, had gone to
Brown Brothers, the leading bookstore in the city,
and had sought and obtained an order for
hand-painted valentines.  This had given her courage to
approach Miss Higgins and a nearby Gift-shop.
Very proudly she presented the three orders to the
senior member of the firm.

"There, I guess *that'll* make us work!"

At first Renée was aghast at the amount of work,
but with Pat to help her and by steady
application--although Aunt Pen was firm in her command that
the work must not interfere with the outdoor play--she
was able to complete the orders by the first of
February.  And so beautifully had the little
valentines been made that Brown Brothers immediately
ordered ten dozen dinner cards!

The rush of business set Pat at the company's
books which had gotten into such a muddle that
they had to be taken to Daddy to be straightened out.
Pat's figures were like a Chinese puzzle running up
and down the pages of her imposing ledger.  Poor
Mr. Everett had a knotty problem putting them into
proper shape and Pat had a lesson in accounting!

Altogether, after all expenses had been paid, there
was left to the account of the youthful firm a sum
of eighteen dollars and fifty cents.  Two-thirds of
this, Pat declared, must be Renée's, because the
responsibility of the work fell upon her--"though
I'll just say it isn't any fun getting up your nerve
to go in and ask for an order!  They always treat
you like a kid!" she explained, indignantly.

There were many demands upon their earnings.
The scout uniforms had been bought; the girls each
pledged six dollars to the Victory Army; there was
the Red Cross, too, and the French Babies and the
Vacation Fund for the tots at home--innumerable
other good causes, worthy of their help.

"It makes me feel so grown-up to sign my
name to all these pledges and things and pay for it
out of my *very* own money!"  And Pat assumed a
comically mature air.

Pat was a real "Yellowbird" now and Renée
was a "scrub."  The girls had joined a swimming
class, too; Pat, having spent many summers at the
seashore was like a fish in the water, and helped
Renée, who had to overcome a physical terror at the
very thought of slipping over into the tank!

Early in February Garrett Lee was brought back
to the city from Hill-top.  Pat, with Aunt Pen, had
immediately gone to see him and his mother.
Mrs. Lee's kind welcome drove away the fear that had
teen in Pat's heart; impulsively she threw her arms
about Mrs. Lee's neck and, because Mrs. Lee could
always see straight into the hearts of her boys and
girls, she knew what prompted the caress and gave
an affectionate hug in return.

"Garrett doesn't want one single word ever said
about it all," she whispered in Pat's ear.

After that Pat went almost daily to the Lee
house--sometimes with a book, or a basket of fruit or some
home-made candy.  At first she was a little shy in her
friendly devotion, but after a while, so truly grateful
did Garrett seem for her company and the things
she brought to relieve the monotony of his convalescence,
she simply rang the bell and ran straight up
to his room.  When these frequent visits interfered
with lessons Aunt Pen said not a word, for she knew
Pat was trying to make up in some small way for
the harm she had wrought!

As Garrett grew stronger the young people
deserted the Eyrie for the pleasant Lee living-room.
"It does him more good than a trip to Florida!"
his mother declared, looking with satisfaction at her
patient.  And the boys and girls were learning
thoughtfulness and considerateness.  When Peggy,
of her own will, suddenly lowered her voice, and
Jim Archer, without a word, shoved a pillow back of
Garrett's head as he sat on the old divan, Mrs. Lee
had thought--hard as it had been--Garrett's illness
had brought some good.

Pat had never known before the wholesomeness
of jolly comradeship with a large circle of boys and
girls; she found it now in these pleasant gatherings
at the Lees.  Bob Slocum and Peggy could think of
so many games; Jim Archer--all in one afternoon--had
composed, staged, and produced a melodrama,
"Heinie the Hun," although, because Pat could not
control her giggling, the irate author-manager had
made her play the drum to mark the dramatic
climaxes.  There were endless and lively discussions
over everything under sun and earth; jolly songs
with Mrs. Lee at the piano, and always some careful
eye to notice when Garrett showed signs of fatigue.

And to Pat the best of all was when Garrett, one
afternoon, had confided to her that he was planning
an airship with a new kind of stabilizer; showed her
his drawings and explained how, for days since his
illness, he had been studying a housefly which he had
caught and imprisoned in the old fish bowl.  Pat
wanted very much to tell the others what great
things Garrett was going to do but he had made her
promise on her scout's honor to keep his secret, so she
carried it faithfully locked away in her heart, proud
that Garrett should have honored her with his
confidence after the unhappy accident at Hill-top!

"We're *pals*--just's if I was a boy," she said to
herself.

As the weeks slipped by Renée, to Aunt Pen's
delight, was rapidly developing a fascinating and
forceful personality.  With so many true friends and
playmates the shyness had gradually disappeared
from her manner; contrasted with Pat's dynamic
spirits Renée would always seem quiet, but her will
was strong and often, in her gentle way, she was a
leader among the young people.  With a character
that had been moulded and guarded by a simple life,
she had in her a rare beauty and purity of thought
that seemed to shine in her pretty face and clear eyes.
Happiness and healthy living were dispelling the
shadows from her young life; she could talk of
Susette and the old cottage without a quivering of the
lips; she often drew for Pat, as though she enjoyed it,
a vivid description of how splendid Emile had looked
in his uniform as he had marched away with the
others--a rose she had given him stuck jauntily in
his belt!

The cessation of the fighting and the approaching
peace had brought many problems.  Wounded
men were coming home, employment was uncertain,
living expenses soaring higher and higher; actual
want stalked in many homes.  And to add to it all
a terrible epidemic had raged through the city,
leaving in its wake untold misery and suffering.

There was serious work for everyone to do.
There were countless ways in which the Girl Scouts
helped.  "Good turns," they called it and they held
themselves always ready for the command of any
organization, never counting one moment of sacrifice,
tireless and faithful.

"What do you think now?"  Pat burst in upon
her family from a special meeting of the troop.
"The Scouts are going to adopt families!"

This astonishing announcement caused Mr. Everett
to throw up his hands in mock dismay.

"Good gracious, Pat, black or white?"

"I'm really very serious, Daddy, and Mrs. Townsend
from the Red Cross says we can make it a
beautiful work!  One family is assigned to each of
us.  We give as much time as we can spare and do
everything we can--amuse the children, take 'em
out, make things easier for the mothers so's they can
rest and get strong again!  You see these are families
that have been sick.  Mine is Mrs. K-a-s-u-b-o-w-s-k-i,"
she read from a card.

Pat had, in her way, expressed the scout orders.
To each of the older scouts had been assigned a
family that had suffered from the epidemic.  Each girl
was to work under the direction of the District
Nurse and in coöperation with the Red Cross.  She
was to give brief reports of each visit.  And knowing
that these girls could, in the homes to which they
were sent, win trust where older women often met
suspicion and unfriendliness, the Red Cross hoped
to build up through their services, a sympathy and
understanding that would benefit everyone and draw
more closely the bonds of common interest.

In her youthful mind Pat did not sense any such
vision; she only knew that her scout orders directed
her to go and do all she could for a family whose
name she simply could not pronounce; that her card
stated that there was a Rosa, aged seven, a Josef, age
six, a Stephanie, aged three and a baby Peter;
that everyone of them had been desperately ill,
including the father and mother; that only within
the last two or three weeks had the father been able
to go back to work and that upon the poor mother,
still weak from the ravages of fever, had fallen the
burden of making the meagre savings tide them over.

Pat called them all her "Kewpies."  Her first
two visits left her discouraged, the children were
dirty and quarrelsome, the mother unfriendly.  But,
gradually, armed with picture books and toys, Pat
won the liking of the little ones; at the next visit
she gave them cakes of soap which Renée had carved
to resemble dogs and pigs and promised them more
if they would use these "all up"; warm sunshine
permitted a long walk and outdoor play and
Mrs. Kewpie, gratefully realizing that for an hour she
was absolutely without chick or child, caught a
much-needed moment of rest!

Renée had not been given a family by the Red
Cross.  At first she was disappointed, then,
wholeheartedly, she fell to helping Pat.  Aunt Pen and
Daddy, too, were deeply interested.  Almost every
evening the "Kewpies" were discussed at the
"pow-wow."  Aunt Pen was aghast that Mrs. Kewpie
could speak only a word or two of English!

"How can she be expected to bring up good
American citizens--let alone be one herself?" she
asked heatedly.

Through Rosa Pat learned that poor Mrs. Kewpie
would really like to talk and read English.  Her
husband had learned it at his shop, the older children
were learning it at school; less and less they were
talking the only language she had ever known!  She
felt, with the quick instinct of her mother's heart,
that they were growing away from her into a world
of interests where she could not follow.  No one
had ever offered to teach her this new, strange
tongue!  She was afraid of the teachers in Rosa's
school!  She misunderstood and resented the
approaches of the few English-speaking women she
had met; proud herself, she had thought them
patronizing and officious!  But Pat was just a girl!

So Pat, quite unconsciously, began making a
good American citizen out of Mrs. Kewpie.  She
found that the picture books she brought the children
interested the mother, too--not because of the
pictures alone but because the mother could make out,
through them, the meaning of the words beneath
them.  When Pat told of this at home Aunt Pen
thought of the beautiful plan of making for
Mrs. Kewpie a primer out of pictures.  Every evening,
for a week, the entire Everett family worked industriously
with scissors and paste, compiling what Aunt
Pen laughingly called: "Everett's First Lessons in
the American Language."

"She'll know all about this country of ours when
she's graduated from *this* book," declared
Mr. Everett, proudly smoothing down a colored picture
of the Capitol at Washington.

"And for everything I teach her in English I'm
going to ask her to teach me a word in Polish!  It's
such a funny looking language and then it *sounds*
like music!  They have lots of awfully exciting
stories in their history--Keineth Randolph told us
some that her father had told her!  And in the next
book, let's have pictures of flowers and mountains
and water and things like the country, 'cause I guess
poor Mrs. Kewpie thinks there *aren't* such things!"

Prompted by this thought on her next visit Pat
carried to the Kewpie kitchen a pink geranium plant.
Then she conceived the idea of making the untidy
kitchen look as much like Mrs. Quinn's as possible!
So interested did she grow in her work that for two
afternoons she completely forgot basketball practice,
thereby bringing down upon her head the fury of the
Captain of the Yellowbirds!

And when Baby Peter fell sick with some
digestive disorder, Pat, with the help of the District
Nurse, was able to persuade Mrs. Kewpie that a
daily bath would reduce the slight fever and to
substitute the sweet, fresh milk that the nurse had
brought in the place of the coffee she was accustomed
to feed the baby.

Now Renée, to her delight, was given an opportunity
to share the "good turns."

One afternoon Mrs. Lee, always an angel of
kindness and of wide charity, had sought Renée's
help.  She explained to Renée, as they walked along
together, that this was a "case" of her own, and
that she was taking her to this house because she
thought she might bring a little sunshine into a very
lonely life there.

"Poor Mrs. Forrester is very cross and very
queer, my dear!  No one ever goes to see her now
and she lives all alone with a servant almost as old
as she is!  I thought that if you would go there
once in awhile and read to her you might help her
pass the long hours."

Mrs. Lee did not add that she hoped the child's
quiet, sympathetic manner might waken some
tenderness in a heart as cold and dead as stone.

Mrs. Forrester lived in a very old house in an
out-of-the-way street.  Standing almost concealed
by trees and overgrown shrubbery, it looked like
some forgotten corner of the big, growing city.  The
door creaked on its hinges as the untidy old servant
grudgingly opened it just far enough to permit them
to enter.  The rooms were dark, dusty and
absolutely bare of any furnishings except a few worn
chairs.  Not a picture, not a book, not one spot of
color was to be seen!  There were no curtains at
the windows and the cracked dingy-brown shades
had been pulled close to the sill as though to forbid
one tiny gleam of sunlight filtering through.

Renée thought it the most horrid house she had
ever seen and wondered how Mrs. Lee could step into
it so cheerfully!

But always tender with old people, she immediately
felt sorry for the queer old woman propped
up against a pile of pillows in a great, ugly bed.

"It isn't that she's so very old--or sick!  I
believe she just *won't* stir!  Mrs. Lee says she has
had a very unhappy life," Renée explained at home.
Now Mrs. Forrester and the ugly old stone house
shared the interest of the pow-wow.

Another time Renée told, with much amusement,
how she had insisted upon raising the shade
at the bedroom window so that Mrs. Forrester
might see how spring-like the sun made everything
look and how the old lady had promptly hopped out
of bed and had pulled it down with such a snap that
it fell to the floor!

"But she just *had* to go back to bed and leave it
there and I went on reading's though nothing had
happened and I know she really loved the sunshine
because she lay there as quiet as could be, staring
at the window!"

But one afternoon Renée returned, deeply
excited, with a secret that she kept for Pat's ears and
the seclusion of the Eyrie.

"I was reading something awfully stupid for I
thought she might go to sleep and I know she wasn't
listening at all, and finally I heard her say, "If I
could find my baby--I'd be ready to die!"  Now
I wasn't reading a *thing* about dying or a baby and
she frightened me dreadfully!  I suppose she had
forgotten I was there.  Then when I went on reading
she said it again--real plain!  Now, Pat, isn't that
exciting?  Where *do* you suppose her baby is and
*how'd* she ever lose it?"

None of Pat's experiences could equal this for
mystery!  Pat stared at Renée and Renée stared
back; in the quiet of the Eyrie they thought up all
sorts of explanations and stories--tragic, all of
them!  Pat fairly shivered with delight.

"Aren't you *lucky*, Renée--to have such a spliffy
mystery!  It's just *spooky*!  I'm going to write a
story about that!  You get her to talk more--read
a lot about babies and listen hard!  And talk to that
old Crosspatch, maybe she'll tell you something.
That's the way they always do in detective stories.
Something dreadful *must* have happened to make
her live like that, in that ugly old house!  Oh,
rapture, I *know* I'm going to be famous!  This goes
way ahead of Aunt Pen's story!  Of course," she
added, hastily, "I don't know *all* Aunt Pen's secret
sorrow yet and she doesn't stay in bed and act queer!
I think I'll call this "The Lost Baby!"

So that evening, armed with several newly-sharpened
pencils and much of Daddy's writing
paper, Pat began her first chapter.  However, its
progress met with a serious setback when Aunt Pen
laid in her hands a letter from Angeline Snow.  Pat
opened it eagerly; she had not heard from any of
her old schoolmates at Miss Prindle's for a long time.

She read it quickly.  Miss Angeline, in a few
breezy sentences, informed Pat that she would come
immediately to make her a visit!

"... You were *such* a dear to ask me
(Pat read that twice, thoughtfully)--and the doctor
says I need a teeny rest.  Mama is in California
and of course I cannot go to her!  But we'll have
a perfectly sweet time together and I'm just dying
to see you again.  We've missed you dreadfully here!
I have *bushels* to tell you--just you.  (About the
girls and things--you'll *die* when you hear it all!)  I'll
come on the Empire on Thursday, so please meet
me.  I have a stunning new hat, henna and turquoise
blue and a feather you'll want to *eat*.  Bye-bye, your
Angeline."

So intent was Pat upon examining the gold crest
on the paper that she did not see the curious look that
flashed over Aunt Pen's face.

"Good gracious," she exclaimed, suddenly,
"that's to-morrow!"

"Yes," Aunt Pen answered quietly, "and we
must do everything we can to make her visit
pleasant!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`ANGELINE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVII


.. class:: center medium bold

   ANGELINE

.. vspace:: 2

At a first glimpse, from the crown of her glossy
black head to the patent tip of her smart little shoe,
Angeline Snow, arriving the day following, was like
a stranger to Pat!

Pat had left her at the close of that last term of
school, after parting embraces and repeated pledges
of undying friendship, a girl, long of leg and short
of skirt like herself; now she beheld a fascinating
young creature whose slim body was robed in a dress
of the most stylish fabric and cut, its clinging skirts
reaching quite to the tops of the little patent leather
shoes, and the hair that Pat had always loved to
braid and unbraid was pinned in curious puffs and
waves close to the small head.

However, in the transformation, Angeline had
lost none of the fascination that had made of Pat,
in the old days at Miss Prindle's, a sort of adoring
slave.  She was amazingly pretty, her black hair
made her white skin dazzling, the faintest of
rose-pink flushed her cheeks and the tip of her pointed
chin; her eyes set deep under long black lashes were
as blue as a June sky; her mouth alone marred the
perfection of her face--when the lips were not
twisted into an affected smile, acquired after faithful
study before the mirror, they glaringly betrayed
the girl's little weaknesses.

There might well be some doubt in anyone's mind
as to why a doctor had prescribed a rest for the young
lady!  From the moment when, clasping her
Pekinese under her arm and followed by a porter with
two huge shiny leather suitcases she stepped down
from the train, she fairly bubbled with spirits!

Quickly Pat fell under the old charm!  Because
Renée had developed a light attack of influenza which
confined her to her bed and kept Aunt Pen in close
attendance, lessons were suspended and the two girls
were left very much to themselves.  At Aunt Pen's
suggestion Pat moved into Celia's room, which
adjoined the room assigned to Angeline.  A door
opened from one to another and every night and
morning Pat crept in under Angeline's covers for a
little while and listened breathlessly while Angeline
told the "secrets" of the school.  Almost always
there was a box of chocolates under Angeline's pillow
so that at regular intervals the stories were
interrupted while the two girls munched on the candies.

"The very most exciting thing of all--and don't
you *dare* breathe it to a soul"--and Angeline sat
bolt upright and clasped her arms about her knees--"is
the *awful* scrape that Jule Kale and I got into
and that's *really* why I'm here!"

Jule Kale had been a Junior when Pat had been
at Miss Prindle's.  Pat remembered her as a daring
young lady whose adventures had more than once
thrilled her and the other girls in the school.

"You know she'd been writing to a French soldier
for over a year, even after Prin said we couldn't
and what *do* you think!  He *came* to New York!
He was the handsomest thing--the girls were all
crazy about him, when we described him!  He wrote
to Jule right away and asked her to meet him at the
Waldorf and she went real often and took me with
her.  I used to take a book and pretend to read, but
I watched every minute so's I could tell the other
girls.  Once he bought me some chocolate, too, when
Jule told why I was sitting there.  He said there
were some more Frenchmen coming over and he'd
introduce them to us!  Oh, the girls were *wild* with
excitement!  Then one afternoon Jule went to a
tea-room and danced with him and she didn't take me
and some one saw her there and told Prin and Jule
was awfully scared, 'cause you remember Prin had
told her that the next scrape she was in she'd have
to leave the school!  And what does Jule do but tell
Prin that he was her *cousin* who had been in the
French flying service!  And Prin *insisted* that she
invite him up to school for dinner like we always do
our relatives and have him give a talk about the war
and Jule had the *worst* time explaining how he had
to go away and couldn't come!  And we knew all
the while that Prin was sniffing around the way she
does for more information so Jule thought I'd better
go away for awhile so's she couldn't question me!
I pretended to faint one day--I can do it awfully
well now--and Prin never said a word when I
told her I wanted to come here for a visit.  But
wasn't that all exciting and wouldn't it be *funny*
if some day Jule married the French soldier?  His
name is Henri Dupres.  Only Jule says his teeth are
all filled with gold and he shows 'em *all* the time as
if he was proud of them!"

Contrasted to these exciting revelations Pat felt
that the telling of her little experiences--the happy
school with Aunt Pen, the Eyrie and its secrets, the
jolly hours at the Lee's, the basketball games, the
Scout work and play, would be stupid to Angeline!

Aunt Pen had bade Pat do everything she could
to entertain her guest; Pat found that Angeline was
easily entertained.  Indeed, the young lady never
failed to indicate with daring frankness just what
she wanted to do and what she did *not* want to do.
And to Pat's dismay none of Angeline's desires
included any of the other girls!  Angeline stated very
plainly that she considered Peggy "stupid,"
Keineth "a kid," and Sheila--"downright common."

"Why, do you mean she lives in that tumble-down
house and her mother keeps *lodgers*?" she
had asked with scorn.

Pat had opened her lips to answer and then closed
them quickly.  Something within her told her that
nothing she could say would win Angeline's approval
of Sheila--she, too, months ago, when she was at
Miss Prindle's, might have thought the same thing!

Angeline, with pretty condescension, found
Renée interesting.  "Poor little refugee!" she said
when Pat told Renée's story.

The two girls divided their time in the moving-picture
theatres, the chocolate shops and the stores.
Angeline never tired of hanging over counters and
showcases; because she was smartly dressed and
possessed a fund of information as to styles, she
commanded respect and attention from the clerks.
Each day Pat grew more and more envious and
impressed by Angeline's "grown-upness."

Under Angeline's influence Pat began to feel
ashamed of her own simple garments and to contrast
them unhappily with the finery Angeline spread out
over the bed for her inspection.  She turned the
henna and turquoise creation over and over while
Angeline told that it had cost twenty-five whole
dollars!  "That's more than Renée and I earned
all winter," Pat thought.  And Angeline put into her
hands a pair of pumps, gleefully remarking that
"they were sixteen and I got them for
twelve--*wasn't* that a great bargain?"

In her rude way, which Angeline considered
pretty frankness, she made Pat understand, too, that
she was "simply amazed" to find that Pat lived in
such a plain old house!

"Of course it's nice and roomy and all that--and
a long time ago it must have been fashionable,
but you just *ought* to see Brenda Chisholm's father's
new house on the Drive--why, it's like a *palace*!"  She
enlarged, then, upon its grandeur until Pat felt
deep chagrin that her father had preferred to live on
in the old homestead rather than to move into a
newer part of the city.

Pat knew that she loved the old library with its
deep fireplace and the rows of book shelves reaching
to the ceiling and the long, deep windows overlooking
the slope of lawn between her house and Sheila's,
the old paintings on the walls and the softly colored
rugs; she knew that her own room, over the library,
held all her memories of nursery days; that she loved
the way the morning sun, streaming in through the
little conservatory where the birds sang among the
flowers, turned to gold the dark oak panels of the
dining-room.  However, it must seem shabby to
Angeline after she had visited Brenda's new home!
She looked at the more modern houses they were
passing, great piles of stone and marble surrounded
by well-kept lawns, and resolved to urge her Daddy
to move immediately!

One morning, a week after Angelina's arrival, the
girls found themselves with nothing to do.  Aunt
Pen had taken Renée out for a walk in the Park.
The sun was shining warmly, buds were appearing
on the lilac bushes, everywhere was the hint of spring.
Aunt Pen had declared she had heard an oriole, she
and Renée had started in search of the songster's
nest.  Pat had watched them depart with a little
longing in her heart and a hurt that they had not
even asked her and Angeline to go with them!  Yet
she knew how Angeline would have scoffed at the
suggestion of a walk in the Park!

Angeline now was arranging and rearranging
her hair before the mirror.  Pat was crossly
wishing she'd stop--she'd been fussing there for ages!
"What'll we do?" she asked, as Renée's and
Aunt Pen's figures disappeared up the street.

"Oh, let's go out somewhere for lunch.  Then
we can shop.  You know, I think it's a *shame* your
aunt doesn't buy you some decent things!  If *I*
were you I'd just go and get them myself!  My
goodness, you're too old to be dressed like a little
kid.  How the girls at school will laugh when I tell
them!"

Pat's face flushed crimson.  Angeline went on in
her persuasive voice; "If you don't just show
your independence *sometime* they'll go on treating
you like a child!  Of course it's none of my business,
but you're my dearest friend and I *do* feel sorry
for you!  And I can help you pick out--oh, just a
few things!"

Pat gave her head a little toss!  "Shall we walk
or ride?" she asked, mutely yielding to Angeline's
tempting.

"Oh, dear me, ride, of course!  I couldn't walk
a *block* in those heels!" and Angeline extended one
of the bargain pumps for a loving inspection.

It was necessary, before they started forth, for
Pat to open her treasure box in the Eyrie and take
from it the crisp six dollar bills which she had ready
for her Victory pledge, due on April first.  This, with
her week's allowance, seemed a great deal of money
and would surely meet the expenses of their outing.

As they whirled along the street toward the shopping
section of the city Pat caught Angeline's gay
mood.  With a little thrill she told herself that they
were embarked upon an adventure!  At Angeline's
suggestion they lunched at a fashionable restaurant,
always thronged at the noon-hour.  Emboldened by
Angeline's composed manner, Pat gradually lost her
own awkward consciousness and enjoyed to the fullest
the gay bustle and confusion, the clatter of china,
the music rising discordantly above the endless
chatter at the tables.

"*This* is more like what we girls do at school,"
declared Angeline, dipping her pink finger-tips into
the glass bowl before her.  "And now let's go to the
stores and find some things for you!"

Under Angeline's direction this was an absorbing
process.  She recalled a love of a taffeta dress they
had seen in a window.  Of course it could be
charged--everyone must know who Miss Everett was!
Fortunately for the success of their shopping they found
a clerk who had often sold dresses to both
Mrs. Everett and Celia.  Anxious to make a sale, she
assured Pat that the dress would look beautiful on
her!  She shook out its flounces temptingly as she
said it.  Angeline added that the flame-colored
chiffon collar was "chic--everyone's wearing them
in New York!"  Pat was promptly thrilled with a
mental picture of herself in the stylish gown!

"Of course your aunt will look cross for a
moment," Angeline whispered, "but it's really none
of her business is it?  I know *my* mother likes to
have *me* look after myself!"

So Pat bought the dress, gave the address, and
carried it away with her in a box.  They then made
other purchases; a silk and lace petticoat that
Angeline declared a "love," some chiffon ties, a velvet
bag with a jeweled top, a vanity case and a box of
face powder.

"What *fun*!" cried Angeline, seizing some of
the precious packages.  "Now I tell you what let's
do!  Let's stop at that Madame Ranier's place and
let her curl your hair and do it up!  Then you'll
look just peachy!  *All* the girls are wearing their
hair up now--truly, Pat!  Why, you'd be ridiculous
in New York!"

They found Madame Ranier's and Pat spent an
uncomfortable hour before the mirror while a
yellow-haired young woman curled her pretty hair with
long, hot irons.  Angeline hovered over them both,
giving suggestions from time to time and exclaiming
over the transformation.  The hairpins hurt cruelly
and Pat had a feeling that she could never move
her head again; however, in spite of all this, she was
secretly satisfied, as was Angeline and Madame and
the young woman, that the result was most
becoming and that she looked quite "grown-up!"

Then Angeline caught her arm.  "Now, silly,
just stand still *one* moment and I'll have you looking
*really* like something," and to complete her afternoon's
work, she dabbed at Pat's nose with the tiny
powder puff she carried in her bag.

As they marched forth Pat tried to assume an
airiness of manner she did not feel.  Between their
luncheon and Madame Ranier she had spent almost
all of her money; the purchases she had had charged
began to trouble her soul.  Angeline stopped
suddenly at Brown's window--she saw a book there
that she declared she must have!  All the girls were
reading it!  She ran in without another word and
Pat could do nothing but follow her.  The book,
"All on a Summer's Day," was purchased and Pat
paid for it out of what remained of her money.

"Prin said we younger girls couldn't read it,
but guess she can't say anything to me now!"

"Now to wind up this jolly day, Pat--*I'll* treat,"
Angeline said, edging toward a chocolate shop.

As they sat down at one of the little tables Pat
saw across the room Garrett and Peggy Lee and
Keineth Randolph.  Her first thought was to join
them but something in their faces stopped her.  In
that moment's exchange of glances, though the girls
had nodded pleasantly enough, Pat read surprise,
disgust, and outright amusement!

A deep crimson dyed her face, in funny contrast
to the powdery whiteness of her nose.  Trying to
assume an indifferent air she turned her back on the
others and devoted herself to Angeline; her pride
and satisfaction had fled, though, leaving her deeply
hurt, not so much because of the girls' suppressed
ridicule as by the thought that they had not invited
her and Angeline to join them.

Then Garrett added the last drop to her humiliation!
As they trooped out, giving a passing smile
to Pat and her guest, Garrett slyly poked Pat in the
back and, leaning over, whispered: "Where'd you
lose your ears, Miss Everett?"  Involuntarily Pat
clapped her hands to the curly puffs that were pinned
carefully over her ears and threw Garrett a wrathful
look!

But her adventure was ending most dismally!
Reaching home she threw her boxes and bags and the
book on her bed and fiercely shook out the miserable
hairpins!  For ten minutes she brushed the offending
curls and then braided them into a tight pigtail.
If Aunt Pen noticed the work of Madame Ranier's
young woman, or the daub of powder still decorating
the bridge of Pat's nose, she said nothing; neither
did she question Pat concerning her absence at
luncheon.  She and Renée were in high good humor,
they had had a happy afternoon and Renée was
herself again.

"Pat, dear, don't you think--Renée is all
better now--we might have some sort of a party in
honor of Angeline?"

Angeline's expressive face brightened.  She was
always prettily agreeable when with the family.  She
clapped her hands to express her delight.

"Let's have a dinner dance," she cried; then--"oh,
how *dreadful* of me to speak right out--like
that!" and she affected deep embarrassment.

"I had in mind a picnic at Hill-top on Saturday.
The roads are open and we can all motor out, have
lunch and then go to the sugar camp.  The sap is
running well, Mrs. Lee says."

Aunt Pen kept her eyes on her knitting and did
not see the blank look of astonishment that crossed
Angeline's face.  Pat had exclaimed eagerly over
the suggestion:

"I've never seen a sugar camp, have you, Renée?"

"Then I will tell Mrs. Lee that we will all go,
Sheila and Peggy and Keineth, and Garrett may
ask some of the boys.  Garrett can drive their car
too."

The next morning Angeline stayed locked in her
room until after eleven o'clock.  Then, hearing Pat
in the adjoining room, she suddenly threw open the
door and appeared fully dressed, even to the henna
hat.  To Pat's exclamation of astonishment she
answered:

"I'm going back on the Empire!  Will you tell
Watkins?  Now *don't* be a silly and make a fuss,
Pat--just tell your aunt that I had a telegram!  Jule
wrote that everything was smoothed over and that I
was missing some fun!  So you *don't* think I'm
going to stay any longer in *this* dead hole!"  She
snuggled her face in the Pekinese.  "You've been a
*dear* to keep me, Pat, but, you poor child, couldn't
you see I was just bored to *death*?  And a sugar-party!
Oh, la, la--*won't* the girls laugh?  Why, I
wouldn't be seen *dead* at one!"

Slowly Pat stiffened until she stood as though
made of stone.  Her lips tried to frame the tumult
of wrath that raged within her, but she only
managed to say lamely: "I'll tell Watkins--if you've
really--got to go!"

So Angeline and her dog and her bags of finery
departed and ten minutes later, the rage in Pat's soul
bursting all bounds, she presented herself at Aunt
Pen's door, her arms filled with the hateful purchases
of the day before, her face red with the effort
to choke back her tears.

Aunt Pen had just come in.  So she was amazed
when Pat burst out: "She's gone and I'm glad of it!
I just *hate* her!  She said we were stupid and that
Sheila was common--and she was--bored to death
and we--we weren't fashionable--and--and she
wouldn't be seen *dead* at a sugar-party!  As if
anyone wanted her, anyway!"

"Pat, dear, one thing at a time!  Who's gone?
Angeline?"

Pat dumped her boxes on the floor and sitting
like a little girl on Aunt Pen's lap told of Angeline's
dramatic departure.  She could not see the smile that
stole over Aunt Pen's face; she could not know that
the sugar-party had been planned to bring about just
what had happened!  Wise Aunt Pen had decided
that Pat had had just about as much of Angeline's
company as was good for her!  She listened to the
tale of the shopping, glanced at each purchase, then
patted the hair that was still curly.

"Poor Patsy, what a time you've had!"

"But I hate her, Aunt Pen, and I hate myself
for ever having let her say Sheila was common!
Dear old Sheila!"

"Well, dear, you've learned something in values--all
around!  Sheila, even though her life is a continual
sacrifice of all the pleasures and luxuries most
girls have, is a finer girl and a more worth-while
friend than poor Angeline--and I think the *next*
time you'll stand up for her, won't you, my dear?
Now, for the book--*that's* the place for that,"
aiming it at the waste-basket, "and if you want some
novels I'll find you some that are more thrilling and
better brain-food.  Your curls"--she fondled the
dark head--"they *are* pretty, Pat--it's too bad we
aren't all born with curly hair and there's no
particular harm in having it curled, only--it does take
*so* much time that could be spent in some much
better way!  And after a few years you can do up these
braids and be a young lady, but for awhile longer
we want our Pat a girl that can romp and play and
get all the joy that youth alone offers!"

"Oh, Aunt Pen, you make me feel as if I'd been
so silly!  But what on *earth* will I do with all these
things!" and Pat kicked at the offending boxes.

"Well," Aunt Pen glanced appraisingly over the
spilled contents.  "You can give the bag to Melodia
and the vanity case to Maggie and we'll just go back
with the other things and ask the store manager to
exchange them for--what do you say to shoes for all
the Kewpies?"

"Oh, joy!  For Easter!  Oh, you're *such* a comfort,
Aunt Pen!"

"Seriously, Pat, do you feel that you really need
a dress?  Perhaps I have neglected you!"

"Oh, gracious no, I don't want to fuss with any
more clothes!  That's all Angeline talked about!
Let's take this truck back right after luncheon!"

"Pat, dear, just a moment," Aunt Pen still had a
little sermon tucked away in her mind.  "You
mustn't hate Angeline--when you think all this
over you'll realize she has taught you a valuable
lesson--perhaps you, too, have given her something in
return!  Each one of us has within us much that
we give all unknowingly to others, that helps them.
Think how much little Renée has taught you with
her unselfish companionship and Sheila, who is so
brave and cheerful and honest, and Peggy and all
the others!  And you must think that you, too, in
turn, through your friendship, give them something
of what is good in you!  Can you understand what
I mean?  So let Angeline go away with grateful
thoughts in your heart--she is silly now but some
day she may outgrow all that and be a fine girl!"

Pat's face reflected Aunt Pen's seriousness.  "I
just ought to feel sorry for her 'cause she hasn't a
mother and a daddy and an Aunt Pen like I have!
But, oh, I don't want to ever look another piece of
chocolate candy in the face again!  And I'm as
broke as broke can be and have spent even my
Victory money and I'll have to draw more from 'LaDue
and Everett' to meet my pledge and save all this
month to pay it back," with a groan.  "But, Aunt
Pen, will we have the sugar-camp picnic just the
same?"

"We surely will," smiled Aunt Pen, folding the
dress back into its box, "and a good time, too!"

So Pat quickly forgot Angeline's insults, her
abused stomach and her empty pocketbook in a happy
anticipation of the day in the woods at Hill-top with
the boys and girls who were her "really worth-while
friends."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`FOR HIS COUNTRY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   FOR HIS COUNTRY

.. vspace:: 2

"Paddy!  Pad-dy Quinn!  You get *right straight*
out of there!"  The cry came from Sheila.  Returning
from school she had spied, as she turned into her
walk, Paddy digging among her mother's precious
tulips.

Sheila threw her books inside the kitchen door,
taking pains to notice that the room was empty, and
then went back to punish the culprit.  Paddy lay
crouched on the ground watching her with bright
eyes and wagging his stub of a tail in a way that
was anything but repentant!

Perhaps the only thing that Mrs. Quinn loved
more than Paddy, except of course her Sheila and
her Denny and her Matt and her Dare, were the
bulbs that grew each spring in the little border bed
along the old fence.  Her tulips always put their
tiny green leaves up through the earth long before
any other tulips; they were always bigger and
brighter and seemed almost human, the way they
nodded on their silvery green stalks and leaned
toward one another as though repeating, like old
gossips the stories the robins sang over their heads.
Each fall Mrs. Quinn carefully covered them over
and each spring, at the first feel of warmth in the
sunshine, she watched daily for the tiny green tips,
as a mother might watch for the return of a long
absent son.

The children shared her interest, too--they could
not be her children if they did not love the flowers
and birds and sunshine that made their living joyous!
The fairy stories she had taught them in their
babyhood, as she had rocked them in her loving arms, had
made the familiar things about them have a magic of
their own; the old clock in the corner was not ugly
because elves lived in it by day and pranced from
its old case at night; a fairy princess had her
fairy-palace in the nearby tree tops, a prince hid in the
wood box, the nodding posies that always budded
and grew wherever Mrs. Quinn lived, were the souls
of sprites and at night danced about under the
star-light; the dew that could be found on the blades of
grass in the early morning were the jewels that they
dropped in their haste to flee back to hiding from
the approaching dawn!

Trouble had been a frequent visitor in this magic
household but the only mark it ever left was an added
line in the corner of Mrs. Quinn's smiling lips, made
by long night struggles over the dilapidated book
which contained the family accounts.  Even when
left a widow with four children to bring up, she did
not lose one bit of the optimism that, years before,
had made the whole world her Denny's and hers for
the conquering!  Her Denny had been taken from
her before any one of the dreams they had dreamed
had come true; still, for her, he lived on in her Sheila
and the three small boys who had red hair and blue
eyes like the father, and she still dreamed the old
dreams for them.  "There was no cloud so dark but
that it had its bright lining somewhere" was the
brave philosophy with which she directed her
household, and the meals that were often frugal she made
cheery with some loving nonsense.  The sacrifices
Sheila had to make as she grew older were nothing
because she knew her mother made them, too, and
there was comfort in the sense of sharing.  The
summer before Mrs. Quinn had taken the old brick
house, fashionable in its day, comfortable now, even
in its shabbiness, and had rented its rooms to lodgers.
With careful economy this slender income would
keep them comfortable until the day, to which Sheila
always looked forward, when she herself could earn
money and give to the boys the advantages of education
that she would not ask for herself.  To her her
own little ambitions were as nothing compared to
the big things that must be done for the boys so that
they would grow into great men!

Paddy had become, immediately upon his
adoption, a favored member of the family.  He had
privileges, too, and these increased as he willed
because, from the mother down, not one of them
could speak crossly to what little Dare called "the
orphing dog."  He slept in a box near the stove when
he was not stretched across the foot of one of the
boy's beds; he ate from a plate under the chair in the
corner, a spot of his own choosing, from which he
could watch the course of the family meal and ask
for a second helping when he wished.  He shared the
rise and fall of the family fortunes--a bit of liver
when the rest had chicken, a good bone on a holiday,
a new collar when Matt found, on the walk before
the house, a crisp five-dollar bill that had no owner.

Though, as a dog--especially an "orphing" dog
Paddy measured in good manners up to the average,
he had occasionally, during the winter, fallen
into deep disgrace.  Time and again he had been
found digging vigorously in the back yard.  Both
Mrs. Quinn and Sheila had protested violently!  The
bulbs were there and, too, it was Sheila's precious
war-garden--the best in the troop!  Paddy had been
punished--severely for the Quinns; in spite of this
he was found again and again at his mischief.

"Oh, dear, he'll ruin everything," Sheila had
cried, eying the havoc Paddy had worked.  The more
the snow melted from the ground the more determined
Paddy seemed to dig his way straight through
to China!

Then Mrs. Quinn had made the ultimatum!  The
children heard it with worried faces; Paddy listened,
disturbed, from the stove behind which, after a
chastisement, he had taken refuge.

"If we find him at it *once more* he'll go straight
to the pound!  I'm *not going* to have my bulbs
ruined!"  And Mrs. Quinn had turned resolutely
away from the dismay and grief she saw in four
young faces.

Sheila knew that her mother had meant what she
said.  That was why, on this day, she had peeped
into the kitchen before she went back to Paddy.  If
no one had seen him then he might have just one
more chance!

"You're a *bad, bad* dog!" she said, advancing
threateningly upon the culprit.

But Paddy barked protestingly.  His whole
manner seemed to say: "I'm through now.  See what
I've found!"  And between his paws he held a small
tin tube, badly discolored from long contact with
the earth.

As Sheila leaned over he jumped upon her, then
pawed the ground where the tube lay.

"What have you got?  Don't you dare bury that
in the tulip bed!"  But he barked so hard in protest
that Sheila gingerly picked up his treasure.

Under her fingers it came apart and from it
dropped three folded slips of paper.

"For goodness sake!" cried Sheila, almost
frightened.  She smoothed them out; except for a
slightly mouldy smell they were in good condition
and the writing upon them could be easily read.

They were the lost formulas!

"*Mother!  Mother!  Mother!*"  With one bound
Sheila was in the house confronting her mother who
had come up from the cellar, panting with alarm.

"*Paddy's found 'em!  Paddy's found 'em!*"  And
she threw her arms about her mother's neck in a
hug that swept the two of them straight into the big
rocker!

"Sheila Quinn, are you *loony*?  What *have* you
got?  And *do* stop that dog's barking!"

"Oh, mumsey, it's the lost formulas--they were
buried in the tulip bed!  *That's* what Paddy's been
digging for--all this time!"

The two spread the papers out on the table and
read them over and over.

"Don't they sound *dreadful*!  Just's if they'd
explode all by themselves!" whispered Sheila,
recalling what Mr. Everett had said about the formulas.

So giving Paddy a warm hug by way of tribute
Sheila put the formulas back in the tin tube and
started forth to find Mr. Everett, to tell him the
whole story.  All through the winter the loss of the
formulas had worried Mr. Everett.  His experts had
been working over the experiments again and in
time would, of course, have made new formulas;
it was the fear, however, that some other government
already possessed the secret that had troubled, not
only the officials of the Everett Works, but the
United States government as well.  So that when
Sheila, with Aunt Pen, Pat and Renée, burst into
the office with the wonderful news, Mr. Everett felt
as though a great load was rolling off his shoulders!

A curious gathering inspected the dirty tube and
listened to the story; Mr. Everett and his staff, some
secret service men, two chemists from the experimental
laboratory, in their long white coats, some
workmen who were passing the door and had been
attracted by the exclamations--and the girls.
Mr. Everett questioned Sheila closely.  She recalled that
Paddy had--all winter long--barked a great deal at
night, so much so that after awhile the family grew
accustomed to it and did not notice it.

"Marx buried it--intending to go later and dig
it up!  The man was smart enough to know that if
they'd been found on his possession nothing could
have saved him.  It was a lucky thing they kept him
locked up so long!  Your dog has done good work,
Miss Sheila!"

Mr. Everett then, turning the tube over and over
in his hands, said to one of the others in a low tone:

"After all--perhaps the best service we could
do for our country and the world would be to bury it
again--where it would lie forever and ever!"

That night, for the second time, Mr. Everett,
with Pat, came to the Quinn kitchen.  But this time
he was accompanied by Aunt Pen and Renée, too.
They made a very loud noise at the doorstep, as
though dragging to the door some heavy object.
Mr. Everett insisted that the three small Quinns
must stay up and to make it certain drew little Dare
to his knee.

"We're going to have a regular ceremony,"
declared Pat so solemnly that Mrs. Quinn nervously
fell to lighting more gas jets and Sheila sent Matt
off to the sink to wash the jam from his face.

"We must decorate Mr. Paddy Quinn for distinguished
service," Pat finished.  So the boys with
shouts dragged Paddy from his basket--for Paddy
believed in an early bed-hour--and set him in the
centre of the merry circle.  Thereupon Mr. Everett
produced a handsome collar decorated with a red,
white and blue bow and allowed Dare to fasten it
about the shaggy neck.  Everyone laughed at the
comical picture Paddy made in his gay decoration!
Then a knock came at the door and in trooped Peggy
and Keineth, trying to look as though they had not
known what had been happening!

Mr. Everett rose with much seriousness.  "And
now that everyone is here I want to present *another*
badge of honor, that has been left in my
keeping!"  Sheila guessed what was coming!  She threw one
wildly happy look toward her mother and then stood
quite still, blushing.  Mr. Everett drew from his
pocket the flat tissue-paper package, unwrapped it,
and held up the badge of the Golden Eaglet.

"It gives me profound pleasure to return this to
Miss Sheila Quinn!  May she always keep and give
to others, too, her sense of a true scout's honor!  It
is one of the strongest weapons we can carry!"

His voice was so earnest and the eyes he fixed
on Sheila so full of sincere respect and admiration
that the laughter in the room suddenly died.  As Pat
said afterwards: "It was just as though Sheila was
a knight and was starting out on some crusade!"
And Mrs. Quinn, who knew something of the
weapons one needed to fight the battles of life,
choked down a catch in her throat and Aunt Pen
whispered something under her breath with a look
that was like a caress for Sheila!

Then the girls opened the door and revealed a
tub of ice cream on the threshold; while two of
them were lifting it out of the ice Pat brought in
and opened a big box full of dewy-wet pink roses.

Keineth went to the piano and played so that "the
fairies danced," and then everyone sang--Dare,
holding tightly to one of Mr. Everett's hands, almost
splitting his throat in his effort to express his joy!

"*Such* an evening!" said Mrs. Quinn as she
closed the door behind the last guest.  "And who'd
have ever thought of it at six o'clock and you, Matty,
with your elbow out of your sleeve!  Well, well, I
guess *those* good folks don't mind a thing like that!"

"*Mother--look!*"  Sheila had gone to the roses
and had leaned over them to whisper good-night
into the fragrant petals.  And there, hidden among
the leaves, she had found a small envelope addressed
to "Miss Sheila Quinn."

She opened it quickly.  "Oh, *Mumsey*!" she
cried.  For before her amazed eyes she unfolded a
check for two hundred dollars!

And with it was just one short line.

"As a small token of appreciation for Paddy's
services I present this to his mistress, begging her to
do with it whatever she wants most in the world."

"Mumsey--the music!"  Sheila ran to the piano,
which had been scarcely touched during the long
winter.  With ecstatic fingers she ran up and down
the scale.

And Mrs. Quinn, watching her girl with happy,
misty eyes, seeing in the young face a look of the
father who had gone on, and the glow of the rosy
dreams she had used to dream in her own girlhood,
thought it the most beautiful music in the world!





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.. _`A LETTER FROM FRANCE`:

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   CHAPTER XIX


.. class:: center medium bold

   A LETTER FROM FRANCE

.. vspace:: 2

"A letter for you, Miss Renée!" and Jasper
laid down at Renée's elbow a square, bluish envelope
with a foreign postmark.

From time to time Renée and Mr. Everett had
received cards from Renée's guardian--but this was
a fat envelope!  Aunt Pen reached eagerly for it
and turned it over and over in her fingers.  Whereupon
Pat nodded to Renée, as much as to say: "The
plot thickens!  The mystery clears!"

"What fun to have it come on a nasty, rainy day
like this!" she declared aloud.  "Let's take it to the
Eyrie and read it very slowly so's to make it last a
*long* time!"

"Renée may want to read her own letter by herself,
Pat," laughed Aunt Pen, looking as happy as
though the letter had come straight to her.

"Oh, *no*, please!  Let's do what Pat says!  And
*you* read it, aloud, Aunt Pen!"

So the fat envelope was carried to the Eyrie and
Aunt Pen sat down in the one sound chair while Pat
and Renée stretched out on the floor at her feet.  And
as Aunt Pen began to read no one minded the rain
beating in torrents against the Eyrie windows!

"My dear little girl and all her good friends,
the Everetts," the letter began.  "Because I am
confined by an inconsiderate doctor to a very small bed in
a very big room in what, in the sixteenth century,
used to be a monastery and is now one of the best
of the American base hospitals--though I wish the
window was bigger so it could let in a little more
sunshine to warm these ancient walls--I have time at
last to write to you a real letter.  Since I returned
from God's country I have been continually on the
jump.  I got back to the boys just in time to fire one
last shot at the Jerrys, though it was a waste of good
honest steel, for they were running faster than even
a bullet could go.  After the armistice they sent us
almost directly up to the Rhine.  Somehow, now that
I've got the time to write, and a fairly good pen,
I can't seem to find the words that will describe to
you just how we men felt when we knew we were
there--at the old Rhine--the way we'd talked and
sung about back in the training camp.  Things were
not tedious--not for a moment--and we were as
busy as ever and constantly on the alert that Jerry
didn't slip anything over us.  And then just when
I was getting used to the eternal rain and mud and
the Germanness of everything--and good honest,
sheets, too, on a regular old grandmother's feather
bed--I was ordered back with a detachment to Le Mans.

"And now, Renée, I must tell you a little story.
It is about a poor French soldier I found in one of the
many small villages not far from Valenciennes.  We
were going back in lorries, one had broken down and
that held us up for a couple of hours.  Some of us
were prowling around for souvenirs.  (By the way
I am sending a German helmet to you by mail.  Turn
it upside down, fill it with earth and plant flowers in
it--that'll redeem it.)  To go back to my story--I
happened upon a very old man digging in a strip of
a back yard that looked the way one of our streets
home look when they're paving it and putting sewers
through--it was back of what had been a cottage
only the roof and two of the walls were gone.  I
asked him for a drink and he took me to the one
room that was whole to give me some of the wine
which--he told me proudly--he had hidden months
before, and there I found his very old wife and a
young French soldier.  The Frenchman would not
talk to me at all, just stared and shrank away as
though he was frightened.  I shall never forget how
the poor fellow looked, a bag of bones, hollowed
eyes that burned in his white face and an empty
sleeve.  The old man told me the boy's story, then,
and with the knowledge of French I have picked
up I was able to put it together.  He had been
released from a German prison, he had had to walk
back with other French prisoners, but because he had
had his arm amputated in the prison and had had a
long run of fever and was half starved he had
not been able to keep up with the others and
had dropped behind.  The old peasant had found him
lying by the road, raving in delirium.  There had
been a nasty wound on his forehead, too, as though
back in the prison camp some Jerry had struck
him over the head.  The old couple had taken him
in and for weeks and weeks had nursed him as best
they could, keeping him alive with their precious
wine.  His fever had gone, the wound had healed,
his strength had begun to slowly return, but he could
not remember one single thing of what had
happened nor tell who he was--that blow had wiped
everything out of his mind!  He was like a little
child.  But the shock of seeing me started
something working in his brain; he stared and stared,
after a little he got up his courage to feel of my
face and of my uniform--and then of his own
uniform--or the rags and tatters of what had been
a good French uniform, and I think at that moment
blessed memory began to return!

"To make a long story short I just took him along
on the lorry to Paris and put him in a hospital there
under expert care and now he's as sane as he ever
was and says he can remember the German doctor
who struck him and wants to go back and find him!
But I told him that a higher Justice was going to
settle all those scores and that he was going back to
America with me--when I go.  That is why I am
telling you the story; I know your kind little heart
that is part French will find pity and affection for this
poor fellow who has suffered so much that little
girls like you might go on living happy safe lives in
a good world, and you will be kind to him when I
bring him home with me.

"Home--Renée, it seems so funny for me to think
of a home!  I used to dream of having one but I
have found out some dreams don't come true, and
since then I've just wandered from one country to
another building bridges and railroads and such
things.  But I feel tired now and I think when I
go back I'll fix over an old house I own in a little
town up in the Adirondack mountains, and we'll go
there and we'll be happy, or at least I promise I'll
see that you are happy.  And we'll keep the French
soldier I've adopted as long as he will stay, won't we?

"When I was in Paris I went down and spent a
whole day with Susette and Gabriel.  They are well,
Gabriel's rheumatism is better, and he declares it
is the slippers you sent him--he wears them all the
time.  They are happy getting their garden ready,
and the florists in Paris are placing more orders for
violets than before the war.  Prosperity shines in
every wrinkle in Susette's face.  She pointed out to
me where she has hung the Stars and Stripes
alongside of the Tri-color and told me that I must tell
you.  Your picture was in a place of honor on the
shelf under the Madonna and there was over it a tiny
wreath of waxed snowdrops which Susette says she
made herself.  I looked at the picture and I said
to myself: 'Bill Allan, that big girl with the very
nice eyes is your ward, given into your care by the
bravest lad you ever knew--see that you live up
to the charge with the best that's in you!'  That
was the vow I made in front of your picture, Renée.

"Some day when we've saved enough money we'll
go back and visit Susette.  But she's happy, Renée--the
way we're all happy over here--the fighting is over!

"You and I can never thank the Everetts for all
they have done for us.  I bless the Fate that brought
that very lively Miss Pat into the Red Cross office
for I'll admit right at that moment I didn't know
what to do with you!  I think that in a few weeks I'll
be sent back to America and then I will try to tell
them how grateful we are..."

The letter concluded with a brief description of
the hospital and its beautiful, cloistered grounds
where, long before, monks had found rest from the
world's strife.  But not one of the three listened;
Aunt Pen's thoughts, even while her lips went on
framing the words of the letter, were back, repeating
over and over--"I used to dream of having a home
but I found out some dreams can't come true!"
and, as she finished and folded the letter, her eyes,
staring out over the wet housetops, saw vividly again
the college campus and the old stone bench under a
spreading elm where she and another had talked
about that very house in the Adirondacks!

"It *is* my Will!" she murmured almost aloud.
But for once Pat was too concerned with her own
worry to notice her Aunt Pen's absorption!

"I think it's just *mean* in him to say he's coming
over here and take Renée away to some old place--we
*won't* let her go!" she exploded.

A little dread of this same thing was disturbing
Renée!  Though she had in the long trip across the
sea learned to respect and trust her new guardian,
and, because Emile had placed her under his care,
would always feel a strong loyalty for him, she
shrank a little from the thought of leaving these
kind friends and going to a strange home.  Aunt
Pen, coming with an effort back from her own
dreams, read what was passing in both Pat's and
Renée's minds.

"Let's not worry, girlies!  I know everything is
going to turn out just the way that will make
everyone happy--when Capt. Allan returns!"

Now Pat suddenly grew suspicious!

"You speak *just as though* you knew something
we didn't know, Penelope Everett!  What *is* it?
*Did* you know Renée's guardian before?  You've *got*
to tell us every thing!"  And Pat, a vision in her mind
of romance and mystery unfolded at last, knelt
before Aunt Pen and rested her elbows upon Aunt
Pen's knees with an air that said: "I'm ready now
to hear the whole story!"

But Aunt Pen's face, rosy red, did not suggest
the secret sorrow that Pat had liked to imagine!  She
laughingly pushed Pat away.

"What an old teaser you are!  Yes, this *is* the
same Will Allan I knew!  He used to tell me,
sometimes, of the old house in the mountains which an
aunt had left him.  Then he went to South America
to build a bridge or something!  There's nothing
more to tell!"

Pat was visibly disappointed.

"Well, anyway, will you promise to keep him
from separating Ren and me?" she begged.

Aunt Pen slipped the letter back into its envelope.

"I'll promise to do my best to keep him
from--separating you--very far!  If he remembers me,"
she added with sudden alarm!  Such a thought had
not occurred to her!  Now it brought a tiny droop
in the corner of her lips.  "Anyway, Pat, much as
we love Renée we must not forget that Capt. Allan
has the first claim, though I am sure he will be
anxious to do whatever will make her the most
happy!  He may let Renée decide."

"Oh, that would be *dreadful*!" cried Renée.

But the thought satisfied Pat.  She stood up with
sudden resolution.  "Well, then, *I'm* going to begin
right now teasing Renée *every minute* to choose
us!  I'm glad the letter came!  Everything was so
dull and now it's exciting again!  And that poor
Frenchman--let's go over to Peggy's, Ren, and tell
her all about him!  As if we minded rain, anyway!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE LOST BABY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XX


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE LOST BABY

.. vspace:: 2

"Ren, you look as though you'd stepped out of
a picture book!"

Renée did, indeed!  With odds and ends from the
scrap-bag and the store-room upstairs she and Pat
had put together an Alsatian costume.  Pat, perched
cross-legged in the middle of the bed with a book
on Historical Costumes stretched across her knees,
proclaimed her satisfaction with their handiwork
while Renée turned and turned before the long
mirror, stopping to spread out the full short skirt or
perk up the enormous bow that adorned her head.

Keineth Randolph was going to give a party.
It was to be a costume party; there was to be dancing
as well as games; all the boys and girls of the
Randolph's acquaintance had been invited.  They always
loved to go to the Randolph's home; the house,
though small, seemed to have been built for the sole
purpose of giving young people room for a good
time; John Randolph, himself, could be as young as
the youngest and Keineth, always good-humored,
was a hospitable little hostess.  Add real musicians,
tucked off on the landing of the stair, a table in the
corner of the dining-room laden with goodies dear to
young folks, witches and goblins, lords and ladies
of past kingdoms, monks, fairies, clowns and elves
to make merry--well, "it will be one grand party!"
Pat had declared.

She herself had been torn in mind as to what she
wanted to be.  She pictured herself as Jeanne d'Arc,
glorious in silver armor and lance in hand; she
considered Mary, Queen of Scots; then her romantic
fancy favored Cinderella!  But learning from Peggy
that Garrett was going as the brave Powhatan, the
Indian Chief, she promptly decided to tease Garrett
by appearing as Pocahontas!  Aunt Pen was shopping
at that very moment trying to find the gayest
feather duster in the city with which to decorate her.

"Pat, I'll wear my locket!" cried Renée,
turning from the mirror.

She ran to her drawer as she spoke and drew
from it the little case.  Pat watched her approvingly
as she fastened the bright red band about her throat.
It added a piquant spot of color to the quaint
costume and the curious old locket looked as though it
might have been fashioned by some old artisan for a
royal lady in the days when feudal lords reigned
over France!

"It's *perfect*!"  Pat gave a leap over the low
footboard of her bed to examine more closely Renée's
entire appearance.

"You're going to be the best thing there," she
declared conclusively.  "I know everyone will be
crazy over you!  *Won't* it be fun?  I can't wait until
Thursday comes!  Only then it'll be over so soon!"  And
Pat sighed deeply, as millions of others have
sighed over the rapid flight of time!

Maggie tapped at the door.

"There's a queer old woman downstairs a-asking
for you, Miss Renée!"

"For me?"  Renée turned, startled.  Then a
sudden thought enlightened her.  "It must be
Elsbeth!"

She ran quickly down the stairs to the door followed
by Pat.  It was Elsbeth, the queer old servant
who lived with Mrs. Forrester.  At sight of Renée
she turned a face white with distress.

"Oh, Miss Renny, Miss Renny, she's took again!
Mis' Lee sent me to fetch you!  You must come!"

"What do you mean, Elsbeth--Mrs. Forrester?
I'll go with you at once!"

"I think that's *mean*, Renée!  We were going to
plan my costume--you *know* it!" protested Pat.

"Oh, *Pat*!"  Renée's voice pleaded from the
depths of the hall closet where she was hunting
for her warm coat.  "Oh, Pat--you wouldn't want
me not to go!  The poor thing!"

Pat was a little ashamed; however she did not
want to show it--she cast an accusing look at old
Elsbeth as though she was to blame.

"Well, I don't believe I'd leave you for any
of the Kewpies, but I'll get along somehow!" and
assuming the air of a martyr she started slowly
back up the stairs.

"I'll get back as quickly as I can, truly, Patsy,
so wait for me!"  Pat paused in her ascent.  "You're
never going in *that* costume, are you?"

Renée had completely forgotten what she had on!
However, she only laughed and buttoned the coat
up closely about her throat.

"Oh, it won't make any difference!  I'm ready,
Elsbeth--let's hurry!"

"She was took last night with one of her spells
and cried and wouldn't take her powders!  And
to-day she's still like she was dead," the old servant
explained to Renée as they almost ran through the
streets.  They made a curious pair--the young girl's
scarlet skirts swinging out below the coat, the gilded
cardboard with which she had covered her slippers
flopping about her ankles and the ends of the big
black bow peeping out from under the soft hat she
had clapped upon her head; Elsbeth, hobbling in her
effort to keep up with the younger feet, her loosened
ends of stringy gray hair flying in every direction,
and her hands rolled in the apron she tried vainly
to conceal under the short, shabby jacket she wore.

"The Lord sent Mis' Lee," she gasped, panting
for breath, "and she sez--go fetch Miss Renny!
An' I come!"

"She'll be better, I know, with Mrs. Lee there!
Don't worry, Elsbeth," and Renée, heedless of the
panting breath beside her, quickened her pace so that
in a very few minutes she was tapping at the door.

Mrs. Lee opened it and drew Renée into the dingy
parlor.  She went to one of the windows and raised
the shade to the very top, letting in a flood of warm
sunshine.  Then she whispered to Renée:

"The doctor is with her now.  It is the first time
since I have known her that we could get her to see
a doctor!  Take off your coat, my dear!  Oh----"
she stared for a moment, puzzled, then laughed:
"you were trying on your costume for Keineth's
party!  You are a picture, my dear!"  She hesitated,
as though something in Renée's face suddenly held
her attention.

"Just for a moment you made me think of
someone, but I can't tell who!  Perhaps it is that you
so thoroughly look the part of a little Maid of
Alsace!  I thought, while we were waiting, I might
tell you a little more of poor Mrs. Forrester's story.
Then you will understand why she suffers as she
does!  She was not always alone as she is now--she
once had a beautiful young daughter----"

"Oh," broke in Renée, excitedly, "was that the lost baby?"

"Yes, though she was twenty years old!  Now
the mother always thinks of her as a baby."

"Did she die?"

"No--to Mrs. Forrester then it was worse than
death.  The two of them seemed to have been quite
alone in the world; the mother cared for nothing
but the little girl.  Every luxury that money could
buy she heaped upon her with a lavish hand.  One
might think that the child would have been dreadfully
spoiled but those who knew them say she was sweet
and gentle, pretty as a flower.  When she was a little
older the mother took her away--she must have the
best schooling that money could obtain.  They
traveled a great deal, too.  And all the while, as the
young girl grew toward womanhood, the proud
mother was building plans for the wonderful future
her child must have!  I do not know of just what
greatness she dreamed--whether it was of some
Duchess Somebody or even a prince's title--I only
know that she held money and high social position
as the greatest gifts with which a Kindly Providence
could endow her flower and lost sight of what makes
real happiness in this world!

"It sounds like a fairy tale, my dear!  While the
proud mother was dreaming her golden dreams, the
young girl met and fell in love with a poor artist--a
boy, for he was only twenty-two, whose family was
quite unknown and who had nothing in the wide
world but a profound belief in his own great talent.
The young girl went proudly and joyously with him
to the mother to tell of their happiness.  The mother
would only believe that the boy was an adventurer--a
fortune seeker; she saw an end to the plans of her
whole lifetime, an obscure future for the girl she had
so carefully educated.  She sent the young man away
and forbade his communicating in any way with her
daughter.  For weeks the girl pleaded vainly, the
mother would not listen; in a fury of disappointment
she even locked her for days in her room, thinking
to break the young will!  But there is an old saying
that true love will find a way--the day came when
the young girl slipped away, joined her lover and
a few hours later returned to tell the mother that
they had been married.  Then it was that anger and
baffled pride drove out all love and justice from the
mother's heart; heaping curses upon the frightened
girl she drove her from her, bidding her never cross
her path again!  The girl and boy went away and
from that day to this the unhappy woman has never
laid eyes upon them.  Her rage brought about a spell
not unlike what she is having now; for days and
days she lay in her bed refusing to let anyone near
her.  Then, finally, as the weeks grew into months,
slowly into her heart crept the realization of what
she had done.  Remorse began eating at her soul.
She tried vainly to find some trace of the daughter;
with only Elsbeth she wandered for month after
month over every country of the globe, seeking
everywhere!  She spent almost a fortune on her search.
But there was never a sign.  It was as if the world
had swallowed them.  And, finally, broken by her
sorrow, unhappy and discouraged, without any
friends and with only a little of her former wealth
left, she came back to this city and to this old house.
It looked then just the way it does now.  She threw
out anything in it that might make it even a little
cheerful and then settled down to die!  But life,
cruelly enough, has hung on and on!  I have learned
her story from things she has told me; for some
strange reason she has seemed to want to confide in
me.  And Elsbeth, too, has sometimes softened a
little and talked about the old days!  That is her
sad story, my dear!  I know, now, how tender you
will always be with her and I have often thought
that perhaps you may remind her--a little--of the--lost
baby, because you are young and like a flower, too!"

Two bright spots of color burned in Renée's
cheeks.  To herself she was saying: "*Wait* until I
tell Pat!"  The thrill of the secret of the lost baby
held her more than any sympathy for the old lady;
perhaps deep in her heart some sense of justice told
her that the proud mother had had just the
punishment she deserved.

Mrs. Lee had turned toward the door.  "The
doctor is going!  Wait here, Renée, until I call you.
He may have some directions to give."

Renée looked about the room.  What a horrible
place!  Even the gold of the sunlight dimmed to a
cold lustre as it lay across the dusty surface of the
shabby furniture!  Everything was so unspeakably
ugly and so still!  She suddenly felt very lonely.
A moment's wild impulse tempted her to run back
to Pat as fast as her feet could fly!  They had been
having such fun fixing the costumes; the
pink-curtained room had been so cheery, Peter Pan had been
singing so lustily--why should she stay here?

Except for the low murmur of voices from the
hall where Mrs. Lee was talking to the doctor, the
only sound to break the awful stillness was the loud
ticking of old Elsbeth's clock in the kitchen.  It
had a mournfully resentful tick as much as to say
to its unhappy listeners: "No matter how wretched
you feel, I go on--I go on--I go on!"

The door going into the room where Mrs. Forrester
lay was closed.  As she thought of crossing
its threshold little Renée shuddered.  A fear she
could not explain gripped her!  After all, she was
only a little girl; she had never seen anyone
suffer--except Gabriel when he was tortured with his
rheumatism; she had never seen anyone die--her own
dear mother had seemed to just go to sleep!  And
what if Mrs. Forrester should die?  If she wanted
to go back home, surely Mrs. Lee would let her go!

And then, as she waited, bits of the story
Mrs. Lee had told her flashed back across her thoughts
and held her.  Now her sympathy was not so much
for the girl bride as for the poor, lonely mother,
wandering broken-hearted, over the world!

"The poor thing!" she said aloud, and then
jumped at the sound of her own voice.

A door closed behind the doctor; Mrs. Lee came
into the room.

"She is quiet now.  The doctor says there is no
danger.  It is all her nerves.  Only--women her
age can't indulge in hysterics without serious results!
What a picture you are in all this gloom, child!  It's
a strange coincidence that you should have had this
dress on!  Perhaps it will rouse her."

Somehow, now, Renée did not feel a bit like
asking to go home.  She was not even very much
afraid.  With Mrs. Lee she stepped softly down the
dim hall toward the closed door.

"Anything, Renée, that will make her forget
herself will help her," whispered Mrs. Lee.  "Tell
her about Keineth's party--anything!"  They
walked into the room.  The doctor had raised one
of the cracked shades so that the sun was slanting
in.  Mrs. Lee had put some extra pillows under the
patient's head; she was half-sitting, a pathetically
little figure in the great ugly bed.  Her face was
turned toward the wall.  She lay perfectly still;
Renée might have thought that, like her mother, she
was sleeping, except that her thin fingers twitched at
the edge of the bedspread.

"I have brought Renée," Mrs. Lee said softly.

There was no answer.

"Perhaps you would like to have her stay with
you for a little while!"

"Oh--go away--*all* of you!" came pettishly.
"Can't you let an old woman die in peace?  Will
it ever come?" she moaned into her pillow.

Renée felt so indignant that anyone should be
praying like this to die that she stepped to the side
of the bed.

"But the doctor says you are *not* going to die,"
she answered quickly, with a stubborn note in her
sweet voice.

The moment she had spoken she was very frightened
but she could not have said anything that would
have so quickly roused the old lady.  It roused her
because it angered her; she jerked her head around.
However, what she might have retorted in answer
was checked by her utter amazement at seeing the
strange, quaint little figure by her bedside.

"Who are you?" she demanded angrily.  "Who
let you in here?"

The child stepped closer.  "I'm Renée!" she
answered gently.

"You that little Renée?  Come here!" Mrs. Forrester
commanded stretching out a thin hand.

Renée stepped close to the head of the bed and
leaned over.  Mrs. Forrester touched her cheek and
her hair.

"So it is!  So it is!" and her voice softened.
Then a gleam of sunlight from the unshaded window
struck across the curious old locket.  Suddenly the
sick woman sat bolt upright in bed and clutched
with both hands at the red band.

"*That--that----*" she screamed.  "Where did
you get it?"  She tore at the velvet band until it
hurt Renée cruelly.  Her voice rose to a shriek.
"*It is hers!  My baby!*"

As her fingers fumbled over the face of the locket
a part of it suddenly opened and from a hiding place
within dropped a tiny gold key!  The old lady cried
loudly and held it up.

"*I knew it!  I knew it!*"  Then she sank back
among the pillows, turned slowly to Renée and
whispered hoarsely:

"But who are you?"





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.. _`RENÉE'S BOX`:

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   CHAPTER XXI


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   RENÉE'S BOX

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"Who are you?"

Of course they all thought Mrs. Forrester was
having a spell!  Renée was terribly frightened--the
more so because now one of the thin hands was
gripping her arm so that it hurt.

Elsbeth, more wild and disheveled than ever,
pushed at Renée and leaned over the bed, a tumbler
in one hand, some powders in the other.

"Mis' Forrester!  *Please*, Mis' Forrester!" she
pleaded, tears running down her wrinkled cheeks.

But Mrs. Forrester struck angrily at the hand
holding the powders and sent them in a tiny cloud of
dust all over the covers.

"Go away, you old fool!" she cried, "can't you
see I've found my baby?  No one else anywhere in
the world had a locket like that!"

Mrs. Lee suddenly remembered who it was that
Renée had looked like!  It was the faded picture
Elsbeth had once shown her of the young daughter
of Mrs. Forrester!  She stepped forward now and
answered for Renée.

"She is Renée LaDue, but I think--I believe--she
*must* be your grandchild!"

Mrs. Forrester was sitting bolt upright and the
pillows had fallen all about her.  Two bright spots
of red burned on her cheeks and her eyes, as they
stared through and through Renée, were alight with
life.  She was a different creature from the one who
had lain limply on the ugly bed, her face turned
toward the wall!  Only her voice still sounded weak
and shrill.

"Your mother--answer, child!"

Then, more than anything else in the world,
Renée wanted to run away!  But the hand on her
arm held her tight.  And, too, who was this old
lady who had known that the key was in the locket
when she and Emile had not known it?

"My mother's name was Amy----"

"My baby!"  Now the old lady sank back among
the pillows; she commenced to sob--dry, heart-breaking
sobs, "My baby!  You are her little girl!
I have found her!"

And then a strange thing happened!  For suddenly
Renée lost all her fear and over her swept a joy
that she had found someone--someone to really, truly
belong to!  So very shyly she reached out and took
one of the thin hands in her own.

Mrs. Lee gently told the old woman as much of
Renée as she knew; how the mother had died five
years before, how she had made the brother promise
to some day bring the little girl back to America to
live, how the brother had given his life for France,
the country of his mother's adoption, and an American
officer had fulfilled the promise.  As she listened
Mrs. Forrester kept her eyes fastened on Renée's
face and Renée held tightly to the trembling hand.

When Mrs. Lee had finished Mrs. Forrester lay
still for a long time.  Then she said softly: "God
has been good to a wicked old woman because my
flower had gone to Heaven and pleaded for me!  I
am forgiven."  And she closed her eyes as though
at last a peace of soul had come upon her!

"Is--is the key--a key to a box?" Renée asked.

Her grandmother roused suddenly.

"Yes--yes!  A leather box--have you got it?
My grandmother gave it to my darling--with the
locket--when she was fifteen."

"My mother gave it to Emile just before--she
died!  She never told him about the key but she
made him promise to let no one break it open.  And
of course we never would!"

"Shall I go and get it?" asked Mrs. Lee.  She
felt that for a little while it might be better to leave
the old lady and the child alone.  Renée made a move
as though to go, too, but Mrs. Lee motioned her back.

"Aunt Pen will tell me where I can find it!  You
stay here, my dear," and she hurried away.

Elsbeth had been watching the unusual happenings
with a suspicious, jealous eye.  She loved her
strange old mistress better than anything on earth;
she resented these strangers usurping her place!

"Missus had best lay down now and keep quiet,"
she said, coming forward with an authoritative air.
"If ye'll jes' take a powder----"  But she got no
further; Mrs. Forrester burst into a laugh!  And
Elsbeth was so startled that her knees knocked
together, for, not for many years, had she heard her
mistress laugh--and such a laugh!

"Elsbeth, stupid, can't you see I'm a well woman?
That I am happy again?  None of your powders
any more!  Go about your business--ransack your
pantry and find some food for my pretty one here!
My flower--my baby!"  And with a look that transformed
her thin face she lifted her arms and closed
them about little Renée.

"Tell me," she whispered, as though it must be
a secret between them, "was she ever unhappy?"

Renée answered very slowly because she was
thinking very hard.  She tried to make the mother
know that her own dear mother had been always
cheerful, always singing and telling beautiful stories
and playing with her among the flowers--and was
only unhappy when Emile brought out the father's
tools.

"That was because he had been blind, and I heard
her tell Emile once that his heart had broken because
he could not do his work!  For a long time she
guided his fingers for him!  She herself used to take
the things they made to Paris to sell, and, when she
couldn't sell them, she and Susette used to hide them
so he couldn't know--Susette told me all that!  I
think we were very, very poor, but my mother
always seemed happy.  She used to sew sometimes,
until she was very tired.  We never had anything but
the flowers to play with and the games she used to
make up.  And she always talked of the time when
she would bring us both to America!  'It was my
country and it must be yours,' she used to tell us
over and over!"

"Did she--did she--ever tell you--about me?"

Renée hesitated.  She knew that what she must
say would hurt the old lady deeply.  But before she
could speak Mrs. Forrester answered herself.

"Of course she would not!  I had forbidden it!"
and in her voice was the bitterness of remorse.

Then Renée told her of the cottage at St. Cloud
where, since as far back as she could remember, they
had lived with Susette and Gabriel.  She told, too,
of Emile and the days when he had gone to Paris to
study with an old sculptor, and how bravely he had
gone away to war with a company from St. Cloud!

Mrs. Forrester pushed Renée's hair back and
looked intently at her.

"I can see it now!  You are like her--a little!
But your eyes are like--your father's."

There were voices in the hall and in a moment
Mrs. Lee and Aunt Pen walked into the room.  Aunt
Pen was greatly excited and came straight to Renée.

"I am so glad, my dear," she whispered.

But no one had eyes for anything but the queer
old box which Mrs. Lee had placed upon the bed.

"How old it looks," sighed Mrs. Forrester,
caressing for a moment the worn leather.  Her fingers
trembled so that she could not hold the tiny key and
it was Renée who fitted it into the lock and turned
it.  It turned slowly and the lid fell back, revealing
packages of papers and letters, tied neatly together.

Although not knowing exactly what she had
always imagined was in the box, Renée was vaguely
disappointed!  But Mrs. Forrester fell to eagerly
sorting over the packages.  Lying loose among them
was a folded sheet, addressed to herself.

"Her writing!" she cried, holding it close to
her eyes.  "Read it for me--I cannot."

"Dearest of mothers," Renée read.  The writing
showed that the letter had been written under stress
of deep emotion.  "It was only because he needed
me so much, for the doctors had told him his eyesight
was slowly going, that I could hurt you by acting
against your wishes.  And sometime you may know
that I have always loved you dearly and that I
forgive you as I pray you will forgive me."

"Oh, my darling," and a flood of tears dropped
on the sheet of paper.  "It is as though she was
speaking to me!" she whispered, kissing the lines.
And indeed a great stillness held the room as though
each of those in it felt, too, the spirit of Renée's
young mother among them!

Mrs. Forrester, her eyes still dim with tears,
spread out the other papers and she and Mrs. Lee
and Aunt Pen fell to examining them, while Renée
watched, feeling as though it was all a dream.

They found an old journal whose contents
explained how John LaDue, who before his
marriage with Amy Forrester had been John Tellers,
had gone with his young bride to Paris where they
had taken the name of LaDue.  Living as they did
in simple obscurity, and because John Tellers had
been born and brought up among the French-speaking
people of New Orleans, it was very easy for them
to pass as a young French sculptor and his wife.
And the friends they made were other young artists,
struggling along like themselves, who could know
nothing about the proud, unhappy woman who was
traveling all over the world, seeking her daughter!

The journal stopped abruptly at the record of
Renée's birth.  Renée remembered Susette telling her
that it was when she had been a tiny baby that her
father had become totally blind and they had moved
to St. Cloud that he might have the benefit of the
pure air and the sunshine.

Aunt Pen discovered a package of papers that
proved to be United States government bonds.  They
had been given to Renée's mother on her twentieth
birthday, six months before her marriage.  They
had not been touched.  Penelope exclaimed:

"A small fortune!  And they are Renée's!"

Many thoughts were shaping in poor Renée's
sadly bewildered little head.  She had now, what
Peggy always called "folks"--a grandmother and
Elsbeth; even though it was an ugly old house she'd
have a real, real home all of her own!  She would
*not* have to go to the mountain place with her
guardian and the strange French soldier!  And yet that
disturbed her a little.  Emile had, in a way, given
her into the guardian's keeping and not to a strange
old woman!  So, even though belonging to so many,
Renée felt torn and unhappy.  And she looked almost
scornfully at the packet which Aunt Pen held up as
though precious--how *could* just plain papers like
that be a fortune!

Mrs. Forrester, who looked less and less like a
sick woman, commenced to slowly gather up the
papers and place them back neatly in the leather box.
When she shut down the lid she turned to Renée.

"I thank God that He has shown me His mercy!
I have not deserved to find my darling.  But I have
been punished!  No one knows how I have suffered!
And maybe, even now, I am not fit to have you.  I
am an ugly old woman who has cast everything
beautiful out of her life!  Perhaps I have no right to
keep you!  You have good friends--go back to
them, only keep in your heart a kind thought for an
old woman----"

"Oh, I'll *stay*--I'd rather!" and Renée was quite
startled that she could decide so quickly.

"You mean it?  Oh, my baby--my pretty
flower!"  Then a sudden resolution lighted the old
woman's face.  "It will be as though that motherhood
I sacrificed by my wicked pride was given back
to me!  Oh, I *know* how wicked and wrong I was
and how I wanted for my precious one only the
things that my own pride clamored for!  But you
shall not stay now--my pretty flower would wither
and fade in these ugly walls.  I am well, again--and
Elsbeth and I will clean out this place!  It shall be
made bright and pretty for my little one!  You must
go now, back with your good friends, then after a
little----"

Every one thought that was best.  Elsbeth came
in with a tray of sandwiches and some cocoa.  Every
one was hungry because the dinner hour was long
past and, in the excitement, had been forgotten.  And
as they ate, Mrs. Forrester, like a new creature, began
energetically to give Elsbeth orders as to what she
must do on the morrow to begin the work of transforming
the ugly old house into a beautiful home for
her "pretty flower."

Then, one by one, they said good-night to
Mrs. Forrester, and Renée, leaning over, kissed her and
whispered shyly:

"Good-night, grandmother!  Very soon I will
come back--to stay."





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.. _`SURPRISES`:

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   CHAPTER XXII


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   SURPRISES

.. vspace:: 2

"Dinner is served, Miss Pat!"

"Why, Aunt Pen and Renée are not here," cried
Pat, looking up from a book.

"Miss Everett said that dinner should not wait!
It is a quarter past seven."

"But my father----"

"Mr. Everett is dining out."

"Well, I never!"  Pat threw down her book
crossly.  Drawing herself to her full height, she
stalked down the length of the room on into the
dining-room, where, at the end of the long table,
alight with the sparkle of silver, glass and china,
one lonely place had been set.

She wanted very much to throw a plate at Jasper
who was biting his lip to keep from laughing at her
aggrieved air.  Instead she tossed her head higher
and, in her haughtiest manner, ordered:

"Jasper, will you see at once what Melodia has
made for dessert and, *whatever* it is, tell her that I
want two extra big helpings!"

"*So there!*" she muttered to his retreating back
and felt much better!

Pat had really had a very bad afternoon.  She
had not liked one bit having Renée rush away in the
midst of all their fun fixing their costumes!  She
had helped Renée and Renée had left her to fix
her own.  She had felt decidedly aggrieved.  Of
course she was sorry for the sick old lady, but didn't
Renée love her more than anyone else?  Or didn't she?

When a little girl begins to ponder in such a
fashion she can soon work herself into a sad state
of blues.  That was what Pat did!  So that when
Aunt Pen returned with a feather duster made of
the biggest, brightest feathers that had ever grown
to grace a young Indian princess, Pat didn't care
whether or not she even went to Keineth's party!

Then the climax of her unhappiness was reached
after Mrs. Lee rushed in with the story of the locket
and the key.  Aunt Pen and Pat had listened with
eyes wide with astonishment.

"Oh, it's *just* like a fairy story!" Pat had cried.

"Dear Renée!  It will mean a home of her own
for the child!  I will get the box at once."

Pat was startled--a home of Renée's own!  She
had felt that they might coax the soldier-guardian to
leave Renée with them forever and ever, but here
was a new and much stronger claim!  A real
grandmother--even if it was a terrible old lady who had
had a mystery!

Aunt Pen came back wearing her coat and hat.
Pat jumped to her feet.

"Wait for me, Aunt Pen!"

"No, no, my dear!  Too many of us may embarrass
Mrs. Forrester!  You must stay here."

"As if *I* hadn't found Renée in the first place,"
thought Pat resentfully as they went away.

Even the thought that the mystery of the "lost
baby" had been solved--and solved in such an
amazing way, brought no comfort--rather a sense of
envy!  All the others had had *such* exciting things
happen to them!  Sheila had had the lost formulas.
And now Renée had the excitement of finding a
grandmother!  Nothing at all ever happened to her!
To console herself she scornfully tore to bits the
first four chapters of her story.  She'd never try to
be a famous author--she'd just grow up and do
silly things like Celia always did--they were fun,
anyway!  And Aunt Pen and Renée, when they
realized that she was never, never going to write any
more stories, would feel *very* sorry!

That was Pat's state of mind when she sat down
to eat her lonely dinner.

Then the doorbell rang.  Pat heard a man's voice
talking to Jasper.  She heard Jasper step toward the
library.  She was immensely curious--for even a
very unhappy person can be curious!  Daddy was
not at home--it was too early in the evening for
callers--who could it be?  She pushed her chair back
and tip-toed toward the hall.

An hour later Aunt Pen and Renée, returning
home, were met at the door by a wildly-excited Pat.
Her blues had disappeared like magic--the expression
of her face, every motion of her body indicated
that she had a secret!  She held her fingers to her
lips to forbid a sound.  Then seizing them both by
the elbows she whispered into their amazed ears:

"Oh, the *bestest, grandest* surprise you ever, *ever*
knew!"  And Pat danced up and down and giggled
deep in her throat to make them know that
grandmothers and lost babies were as nothing compared
to the surprise she had for them within the house!

"Pat Everett, are you *crazy*?" whispered Aunt
Pen back.  "Aren't you going to let us in?"

"Of course!" answered Pat with importance.
"You may walk in and go at *once* into the library!
But you must shut your eyes *tight* and promise not
to peek until I count----"

"It's your mother!" declared Penelope, eagerly.

"Nopey--it's a bigger surprise than that!  No
fair guessing, only you couldn't anyway!  Now come
in and shut your eyes!"

So they had to do just what Pat told them to do!
And Pat, happier than she had ever been in her life,
dancing rather than stepping, led them into the
library.  She had no chance to count--a sudden,
quick exclamation made them both open their eyes!

For some one had said: "Pen--Everett!"  But
Renée's sharp cry drowned out the sound.  She saw,
standing a little behind Capt. Allan, thin in his shabby
French uniform, the empty sleeve pinned to his tunic,
Emile--her beloved Emile!

In an instant she was in the tight clasp of his
arm--they were both crying--poor little Renée's
heart could stand no more!  And as she clung to
him her fingers were feeling across his face and
through his hair and over the cloth of his uniform
as though to tell her it was *not* a dream but *true*!

Pat was so happy for Renée that she found her
own eyes wet and turned away to keep back the tears.
And there was Aunt Pen, the color of a red poppy,
slipping out of Capt. Allan's arm!

"I might have known, Miss Pat, that you and I
were old friends--because I used to think I had a
sort of solid claim on this aunt of yours--only I
didn't know she was your aunt!"

With a triumphant look Pat tried to tell Aunt
Pen that she had guessed it all a long time ago but
Aunt Pen, as radiant as a school girl, was beaming
upon Capt. Allan and Capt. Allan was shaking Pat's
hands as though he had to do something violent.

Then Aunt Pen went to Renée and kissed Emile--for,
in spite of the deep lines that his suffering had
carved on his face--he looked like a boy!

"It is just as though God was working miracles,"
she whispered to Renée.

There was so much to tell that no one knew
just where to begin!  They all knew, now, that
Capt. Allan's French soldier, whom he had found in the
old peasant's cottage, was Emile.  Then Emile, still
holding Renée in the circle of his arm as though
he could not bear to let her go for one little moment,
told how he and the private who had been left by the
scouting party, had had to separate in order to get
back to their line.

"I had a presentiment that I was going to be
killed--I gave him my wallet with all my papers and
the sketches I had made.  That was why they thought
it was I who had been killed!"

No one wanted to spoil the joy of the evening
by asking Emile to tell of his experiences in the
German prison.  It was enough that he was there
with Renée once more--in America!  Everyone's
eyes were very bright and every now and then everyone
was very still, as though the happiness was too
great to be spoken in mere words!

Then Mr. Everett came in and the surprise was a
surprise all over again, and Pat, because it had been
her surprise, was allowed to tell him all about it.
He shook hands very warmly with Capt. Allan and
Emile, and laid his arm tenderly over the boy's
shoulder as though to express things he could not say!

They laughed at Capt. Allan because they caught
him so often staring at Renée!

"What *have* you done to her?  It's hard to
believe she's the same little girl I picked up at
St. Cloud!"

"It's Penelope's work," answered Mr. Everett;
"she's been doing some experimenting!"

Renée, indeed, was a different child.  She had
grown taller, sturdier, her face had lost its delicacy
of line and color; now she had, too, in her step and
look the spirit and vigor that only healthy, happy
living can give.

Suddenly Aunt Pen exclaimed: "Goodness me,
Renée, we've forgotten to tell about----"

"*The Lost Baby!*" cried Pat

So there were new surprises all around!  It
seemed more like a fairy story than ever--to find,
in a few hours, a grandmother and a brother!  Emile
was deeply interested; he listened gravely.  He knew
perhaps more of his mother's sacrifices and hardships
than Renée had known; for a moment, deep in his
heart, he found it hard to feel kindly toward the
proud woman who had made his mother unhappy.
Then as Aunt Pen described her lonely life in the
old house, the dreary days shut in with her grief and
her remorse, just as Renée had, he felt a wave of
tenderness.

"She is going to begin right away making the
old house bright and pretty and nice to live in!
And think how happy she'll be to know Emile has
come back!" cried Renée.

"Well, it looks as though *I* was the one who had
lost out all around," broke in Capt. Allan, although
he did not look one bit unhappy as he said it.  In fact,
his eyes were fastened on Aunt Pen's face with a sort
of eager questioning in them that kept the blushes
coming and going on her cheeks.  "I thought I had
gotten together a nice little family!  However, I shall
go on with my plan of fixing up that old place in the
mountains and maybe, sometime, I can induce my
ward and her brother and her grandmother to make
a poor, lonely ex-guardian a visit!"

"And me!" put in Pat, eagerly, for she was
certain he was in earnest.

"And me!" laughed Aunt Pen with a look that
seemed to flash back an answer to Capt. Allan.

"I think you girlies had better go to
bed!"  Mr. Everett had noticed that Renée's eyes were
looking very tired.  She had had a most exciting
day.  And on the morrow she must go again to the
grandmother's with Emile.

Pat consented to go to bed only when Capt. Allan
and Emile promised to spend the night with them!

She and Renée whispered together for a long
time.  Pat must hear just how Renée felt the moment
she knew the cross old lady was her *very own* grandmother!

"I don't believe she'll be cross when she's happy,"
confided Renée.  "She laughed and it sounded real
jolly!  And even Elsbeth looked different after that."

And wasn't it *wonderful* to have a brother come back?

"I don't mind his losing his arm," Renée whispered,
"for I love him so much I want to do things
for him and now he'll have to let me!"

Long after Renée had fallen asleep Pat lay wide
awake.  There was so much to think about she was
sure she could not ever shut her eyes again.  And
she could hear the steady murmur of voices
downstairs--she wished she knew what they were talking
about!  Then a queer little disturbing thought
commenced to eat at her heart.  Renée, alone in the
world, had been very close to her.  She had seemed
to feel that, because she had found Renée, Renée
belonged to her--was something even closer than a
friend or a sister!  And now Renée had suddenly
acquired a family and a home!  As the tiny thought
grew bigger and bigger and into a real Fear she sat
up very straight and leaning across to Renée's bed,
shook her violently.

"Ren!  Ren!" and her voice rang tragically.
"Promise me, on your scout's honor, that you'll
*always* love me more'n--everybody--except Emile!"

Renée thought she was dreaming but she promised
sleepily.

"Of course--I'll love you--more'n everybody--'cept
Emile--on my scout's honor!" and just as, on
that other night, months before, when Aunt Pen had
tip-toed into their room to see that the little stranger
was comfortable, they fell asleep, clasping hands.





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.. _`THE BEST OF ALL`:

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   CHAPTER XXIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE BEST OF ALL

.. vspace:: 2

To Pat it seemed as though everything exciting
was happening at once!  For the next morning's
mail brought a letter from Mother saying that she
and Celia would start north in a day or two.

Pat and Renée had wakened very early.  The
first thought in each mind was to know if it was all
true--that Emile had come back--or was it a dream?

Outside of their window a friendly robin was
trilling a gay song as though the joy of the spring-time
was bursting his proud little throat.  Through
the window the sun shone with added brightness and
warmth and delicious earthy smells greeted the girls.

"Oh, isn't it just *grand* to be alive?  Let's dress
fast and be the first ones down!"  And Pat, because
the sun and the birds and the spring freshness made
her very happy, also burst into a gay snatch of song.
Aunt Pen and Capt. Allan were late for breakfast.
When the others had almost finished they came in
from a brisk walk through the park, with red cheeks
and amazing appetites.

Aunt Pen, dropping into the chair next to Pat,
slipped a roll of paper into her hand and whispered:

"There's something that belongs to you, Patsy!
I'm ashamed that I didn't return it before.  But now
you can write the last verse!"

Pat, immensely curious, peeped at the paper.  It
was the lost ballad!  And what *did* Aunt Pen mean
about the last verse?  Both Aunt Pen and Capt. Allan
were looking at her with eyes full of laughter.
Pat felt her color creeping to her eyebrows and
crushed the innocent verses in her hand.  But Aunt
Pen checked her rising indignation.

"Patsy, dear, I found 'The Secret Sorrow' on
the floor of the library one night after we had had a
pow-wow.  I recognized the heroine--by a guilty
conscience, I guess--my hair is not exactly 'of raven
hue' or my eyes 'pellucid blue'!  But I loved it, my
dear, and I tucked it away, for I couldn't bear to
have you write the sad ending that was coming!
*What* if you had made her thrust a steel dagger into
her breast!  Or have had her leap from one of those
mighty crags over which the knight, her brother
hunted!"

Capt. Allan had been furiously scribbling some
words on the back of an envelope.  Now he looked
up, very seriously.

"Will you forgive Aunt Pen if I write the last
verse for you?" he asked, and then, not waiting for
an answer, read with dramatic emphasis:

   |  "Back came the lover, wise and bold,
   |  To snatch his lady, grown cross and old,
   |  To a mountain cave he'll carry his prey,
   |  And there they'll be happy for ever and aye!"


Everyone laughed at Pat's disgust.

"*I* think that's very silly and Aunt Pen *isn't*
cross and old a bit and----" she stopped suddenly.
"Do you mean that's *true*?" she demanded.

It was Aunt Pen now who grew very red.  But
she nodded and turned toward her brother.

"*We* have a surprise!  A long time ago Will
and I were engaged--my last year in college!  Then
we let foolish things come between us and we have
lost a good many years of happiness, but----"

"Now we're going to make up for it!" put in
Capt. Allan.  "And I won't be lonely in that place
in the mountains, after all!"

"Oh, Aunt Pen, I'm so glad!" and Pat threw
two strong young arms around Penelope's neck.
Everyone talked at once.  Renée, looking at Emile
and then at the other happy faces about her, thought
that all the joy in the world must have crowded there
within the four walls of the sunny dining-room!

"It'll be just as though we were really related,"
she put in, shyly.  "For I'll always feel that
Capt. Allan *is* my guardian and Emile belongs to me and
Pat belongs to Aunt Pen!"

"Don't leave *me* out, Mouse!"

"Oh, no!" and Renée's contrition was tragic.
"For you are the very best man in the world and
belong to all of us!"

Pat, who had been performing a sort of ceremonial
dance among them all, stopped in dismay.

"Oh, Aunt Pen, *what* about school?"

"Then you will be sorry to lose your teacher,
Patsy?  But it is almost the first of May and with a
little home study you girls can get along.  Anyway,
mother will be here to decide what is best."

Pat's face was serious.

"I am glad mother's coming home!  And Celia,
too!  But I *have* loved our school, Aunt Pen!  You've
made me just like to study all sorts of things!  When
mother comes I'm going to tease her to let us go
next fall to the Lincoln school with Peggy and
Sheila and the other girls--and then go to college."

Aunt Pen nodded toward Pat's father.  Pat, of
course, didn't know that she was trying to say:
"There--*that's* a real girl talking--who wants to be
of some service, some day, in this world!"

Then Pat insisted that Capt. Allan tell them more
about the old house in the Adirondacks.

"Somehow, I can't imagine him keeping you up
there very long, Penelope," laughed her brother.
"He doesn't know you as well as I do!"

Capt. Allan described to them the old rambling
house built half way up the wooded slope of Cobble
Mountain.  From its many windows, he remembered,
a wonderful view could be had of a sweep of valley,
river and surrounding slopes.

"Will has promised me that I may go on with
all my experiments and fads just the same!  There'll
be lots of room there!" she retorted to her brother.
"And some day I shall turn Cobble House into a
school for girls."

"Like *our* school, Aunt Pen?"

"Yes, and I hope that all my girls there will
work as faithfully as you have, Pat!"

"And I'll be the man-of-all-work around the
place and chief executioner, when you need one!"
declared Capt. Allan, mischievously.

Mr. Everett shook hands gravely with his sister.

"All I say is success to you--my dear, whatever
you try to do!"

There seemed to be so much to talk about that no
one wanted to break up the little circle.  However,
the hands of the old clock over the fireplace were
climbing rapidly toward noon and Renée was eager
to take Emile to the grandmother's.  Pat begged to
go, too.  As they started away, Renée holding tightly
to Emile's hand, Aunt Pen, watching the boy, wiped
a suspicion of a tear from her eye.

Capt. Allan saw it and answered the thought that
was in her mind.

"He's a brave boy and has a strong will--he'll
learn to do his work with his one arm!  But before
anything else he must stay in the open until he has
built up his strength and wiped from his mind
forever the horror of all he has gone through!"

The old stone house did not look at all ugly and
gloomy in the bright morning sunshine!  And for
Renée and Emile it took on a new interest--it was
to be their home!  There were signs of life, too,
about the place.  The windows had been opened
and from the back of the house came sounds of
vigorous beating.  As they walked slowly up the
brick path Renée suddenly darted in among the wild
honeysuckle growing close on either side of the door.

"Emile--*see*!  A daffodil!"

There it was--lifting its bright head through
the tangle of undergrowth as though it knew that
sunshine and happiness had come to the neglected
home!  And there were more, too, and Renée, hunting
eagerly, found hundreds of tiny blades of bright
green grass and beyond a rose vine climbing toward
the old stone wall.

"Oh, it *is* going to be nice!" she cried to Emile.
"We can have a garden like Susette's."

Emile, with the soul of an artist, was already
mentally transforming the entire house and garden.
It would be very pleasant to do nothing for awhile
but work out among the growing things with Renée!
Mrs. Forrester, eager to see again her "little
flower," had roused Elsbeth very early in the morning
that she might be in readiness.  She had insisted
upon putting on her old black silk dress; she had
folded a soft net fichu around her neck and had
fastened it with a lavender ribbon.

"Now *don't* stand and stare at me like that
silly," she had rebuked the old servant.  "Can't you
understand that I'm not sick any more?  Watch
me!" and holding her head very high she walked
slowly across the room out into the hall.

So it was in the living room they found her.
God had given back to her so much that she was not
even startled when Renée very simply told of
Emile's coming.  She could not speak a word as she
reached up her arms to embrace the boy, for he
looked so much like his mother that it brought a
choking sob to her throat.

And if in Emile's heart there had lingered any
hardness toward the grandmother it disappeared
when he saw her!  She looked so little and fragile,
sitting in the big walnut chair, that it roused all the
chivalry in the boy's soul.  He kissed her tenderly
on each wrinkled cheek.

Then Pat was introduced; Renée had to tell, too,
of finding the daffodils.  Elsbeth, her face twisted
into a comical expression of bewilderment, listened
in the doorway, and from all parts of the house there
was a rumble of furniture and the tread of feet.

"In a very little time this place will all be changed,"
Mrs. Forrester said, patting Renée's hand.  "We will
have flowers growing all around us--and we will be
very happy, we three!"

It was a very busy day!  Emile must be admitted
to the secrets of the Eyrie; he was shown the account
book of LaDue and Everett and some of Renée's
work.  Then he had to hear the story of Paddy and
the lost formulas, of Sheila and Peggy and Garrett
and Hill-top, of Troop Six and the scout work, and
of Keineth and the coming party!  Surely never in
the world did a tongue wag faster that Pat's nor
did eyes shine more brightly than Renée's as Emile
was made acquainted with all that had brought so
much happiness into her life during the past winter.

Downstairs Aunt Pen, Capt. Allan and Daddy
were talking, too.  Pat with her remarkable instinct
for sensing "when plans were in the making"
exclaimed, as she entered the room:

"Daddy Everett, you look *just* as though you had
a secret!"

Her Daddy assumed a very important air.

"I have!  I have a surprise!  You've all had one
but me!  And I am sure you will think that *mine*
is best of all!  And I thought of it all myself!"

"Oh, what *is* it?  If much more happens I'll be
walking on my *head*!  What *can* it be!"  Pat looked
from one to another.  "Aunt Pen, you're giggling
so silly I believe it's something about your wedding!
It is!  *It is*!  May Ren and I be bridesmaids, Aunt
Pen, and wear gauzy dresses and big hats and carry
bouquets?"

"You're warm, Pat!" teased her father.

"*Please*, Aunt Pen!" implored Pat in an agony
of curiosity.

"Mother has suggested in a note to me that your
Aunt Pen and I bring you and Renée to Atlantic City
and meet them there----"

"But *I'm* determined to make Aunt Pen marry
me right away, you see; I can't even wait for gauzy
hats and big dresses--we've wasted so much
happiness, already!" cut in Capt. Allan.

"So *I* said let's *all* go and meet Mother, and we
can have the wedding down there where the breaking
waves dash high----"

"Oh, *Daddy, Daddy*, that's the *bestest, grandest*
surprise of all!  A *wedding* in Atlantic City!  Only
the waves can't dash very high--'cause there's no
stern and rock-bound coast--only sand!  But we'll
trim the room with flowers----"

"And you and Renée *shall* be my bridesmaids, no
matter what dresses you wear!"

"And Emile shall be my best man!"

"And, oh, *won't* mother and Celia be surprised?
You see *I* had guessed all about Capt. Allan because
Aunt Pen acted so funny when we spoke of him,
but Mother doesn't know a single thing!  Was there
ever such a nice, jolly wedding planned before?"

Renée's face was a little clouded.  It would be
wonderful to go to the sea, but ought she and Emile
to leave the little grandmother?

"Bless you, she shall come, too!  Ocean air will
finish up the good work that her happiness has
started!  I can't have my plan spoiled--not even if
we have to charter a whole train!"

Pat wanted to begin packing immediately.

"When will we go, Daddy?" she cried.

"Day after to-morrow," he answered with the
promptness of decision that was characteristic.

"I'm glad that you give me *that* much time!
I'll have to get 'something old and something new,
something borrowed and something blue,'" laughed
the bride-to-be.

"And we can go to Keineth's party and tell them
all about it!"  Pat was silent for a moment.  Then
going to her Daddy she laid her cheek coaxingly
against his arm.

"Daddy, as long as there are so many going--and
weddings are jollier when there are a lot of
people--can't we take Sheila, too?  She's never been
any further from the city than Hill-top and she's
always so contented and happy and's never teasing
for things the way I am!  Just *think* how she'd look
when she saw the ocean!  I have so much more fun
than she does, Daddy, I'd just as soon stay home
if she could go in my place!"

And Pat, thinking how Sheila's face *would* look
when she first beheld the great sweep of deep, blue
sea, was very much in earnest.

Mr. Everett patted the pleading face.  He did
not smile for he had been deeply touched by Pat's
generosity.

"Yes, daughter, Sheila shall go, too."

"Oh, Daddy, you *are* the best daddy in the
world!  Let's run straight over and tell her, Ren!
*Think* how happy she'll be!"

From the library window Aunt Pen and Mr. Everett
watched the two girls, arms interlocked,
swing down the walk that led from the Everett house
to the street.  There was pride in Aunt Pen's face
as she watched.  Her girls had learned generosity
and unselfishness as well as Latin and Algebra!
And they had found, too, the joy of fellowship!
They were hurrying now to share their happiness!

Mr. Everett was thinking the same thoughts as
his sister, but looking slyly at her from the corner
of his eye, he repeated teasingly:

   |  "Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?
   |  Silver bells and cockle shells----"
   |

Aunt Pen laughingly interrupted: "And larkspur
all in a row!  But won't this world's garden be
richer and more beautiful for healthy, happy girls like
ours, Daddy Everett?"

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center large bold

   THE SUNNY BOY SERIES

.. class:: center medium bold

   By RAMY ALLISON WHITE

.. vspace:: 2

Children!  Meet Sunny Boy, a little fellow with big eyes
and an inquiring disposition who finds the world at large
a wonderful place to live in.  There is always something
doing when Sunny Boy is around.

In the first book of the series he visits his grandfather
in the country and learns of many marvelous things on a
farm, and in the other books listed below he has many
exciting adventures which every child will enjoy reading
about.

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SUNNY BOY IN THE COUNTRY
SUNNY BOY AT THE SEASHORE
SUNNY BOY IN THE BIG CITY
SUNNY BOY IN SCHOOL AND OUT
SUNNY BOY AND HIS SCHOOLMATES
SONNY BOY AND HIS GAMES
SUNNY BOY IN THE FAR WEST
SUNNY BOY ON THE OCEAN
SUNNY BOY WITH THE CIRCUS
SUNNY BOY AND HIS BIG DOG
SUNNY BOY IN THE SNOW
SUNNY BOY AT WILLOW FARM
SUNNY BOY AND HIS CAVE
SUNNY BOY AT RAINBOW LAKE

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.. class:: center medium bold

   GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

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