Part 6 (1/2)
”There, Jess,” broke in Lillie Bell mischievously, ”you needn't get profane over it.”
”Of course they were grim and forbidding-looking,” supplemented Kitty, ”and-”
”And sanctimonious,” added some one, ”with their blue laws.”
”Girls, you are all wrong,” spoke up Helen, with a sort of call-you-down air, ”it was the Connecticut elders who made the blue laws. The Pilgrims were sincere, earnest men. Remember what Mrs. Morrow said about them?”
There was a sudden silence for a moment, and then a faint voice was heard from the other end of the veranda. Every one p.r.i.c.ked up her ears and craned her neck to see who was speaking.
”Ye Stars! it is the Flower of the Family,” whispered Edith; ”what has come to her?”
The sweet, low voice went on slowly, perhaps a trifle unsteadily, ”G.o.d sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain into the wilderness.”
”Hooray for the Flower!” shouted some one, and then of course they all had to clap, while the editor-in-chief of the ”Pioneer,” who was sitting next to the speaker, jotted down this little saying with the air of an expert reporter.
”Now, do you suppose,” went on Helen, ”that these picked men-”
”This choice grain,” corrected the Sport softly, who was trying hard to create a laugh.
”Edith, please be serious,” admonished Helen, looking at that young lady with reproving eyes, but she was sitting with folded arms and eyes cast down, the picture of innocent and bland decorum.
Helen, seeing she had subdued the Sport for the time being, continued: ”Yes, this choice grain was composed of not only sincere and courageous men, as we know, but the most tolerant of any of the first settlers in this country. But, of course, in serious, solemn times one is not apt to be funny. They were not really sanctimonious, they just got that name because they tried to live up to their convictions.”
”But they got it!” retorted the Sport, who was always hard to convince in an argument. Helen flashed her eyes at her in rebuke, and then, turning toward Nathalie, said, ”We are not only going to tell what we have learned about the Pilgrims at the rally, but we are to end with a Mayflower Feast. We do not expect to eat the things the colonists did, of course, but the table is to be decorated with May-flowers-that is with all the flowers that grow in May-so you see, it will really be a May-flower Feast.”
”The Boy Scouts are going to pick the flowers for us!” chimed the Tike, her good-natured face beaming good-fellows.h.i.+p at Nathalie.
”Dr. Homer-he is Mrs. Morrow's brother-” supplemented Grace, ”is the Scout Master of the Eagle Patrol, and as he is very anxious to make the boys chivalrous, he likes to have them help us all they can.”
”But we are to have a great big entertainment,” exclaimed Carol importantly, ”very soon, and we're to sell tickets so that we can make money for the Camping Fund.”
”And we have such a bright idea for getting up something novel in the way of entertainments,” spoke up Helen interestedly. ”Each girl is to put on her thinking-cap and get to work on an idea; it has to be original, nothing borrowed, or that has been used before, and then turn it in to our Director in proper shape to be carried out. All of these novel ideas are to be kept secret until we have had all of the entertainments, and then we shall vote for the one we think the best.
The winners will receive merit badges for their efficiency.”
”Oh, that will be great!” cried Nathalie, ”but tell me, where are you going camping?” she questioned animatedly, for her thoughts had instantly reverted to a summer or so before when she and a party of school girls had camped up in the woods of Maine.
”We don't know yet,” was Helen's practical rejoinder, ”for we have got to know how much money we shall have to spend. But come, girls, be serious and tell Nathalie some of our sports and activities. We want to show her that we can do things worth while, you know.”
”Oh, get Lillie Bell to tell us one of her stories!” cried the Sport, who was a warm admirer of the story-teller.
”Oh, I can't think of any now!” replied Lillie lazily. And then as a chorus of voices seconded this plea, she cried, ”Really girls, I can't.
I was up half the night studying for exam. But,” her face brightened, ”I will tell you about the picked chicken if you like. As it has something to do with our pioneer law, it will come in all right.”
”Oh, yes, do!” pleaded her hostess, who had been wis.h.i.+ng that she might hear one of the story-teller's thrillers.
”It isn't a blood-curdler this time, Miss Page,” apologized Lillie, ”so I cannot give you an exhibition of my reputed talent as a fictionizer.
It is simply that Mother had a headache, Father was going to bring home a swell friend to dine with us, and as it happened, the butcher sent a feathered fowl, and our little Dutch maid was ill.”
”Oh, it was maddening,” she sighed in dolorous reminiscence, ”but there was no way out of it, for we had to have that chick for dinner. So I set to work; some people say that when you try to do right everything rises up against you. So it proved to me, but I remembered our Pioneer motto, 'I Can,' and glued myself to that job. Verily, I thought that chicken must be a relative to the goose that laid the golden egg, for every feather I pulled, a dozen at least came to the funeral. But I won out, and went to bed with a clear conscience, and that fowl-inside of me!”
”Hooray for the Pioneer laws!” called several voices hilariously, and then at one and the same time, in their eagerness to give proof of well-doing, each one started to relate some personal experience. The effect of several story-tellers spinning yarns at the same time was so ludicrously funny that all the stories ended in merry laughter.