Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer Part 16

"Why, Nathalie, get in with us," exclaimed Mrs. Morrow, "there is room on the front seat with the doctor. Oh, I beg your pardon, Nathalie, perhaps you have not met my brother. Jack, this is Miss Page, our new Pioneer, and oh, Jack; if it had not been for her I don't know when poor little Rosy would have been found!"

"I am most pleased to meet you, Miss Page," smiled the doctor with undue emphasis on the Miss. Then, as he noted Nathalie's stiff little bow, he continued apologetically, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, "I have heard so much about Blue Robin, that somehow I thought she was a little girl."

Nathalie smiled pleasantly, instantly recognizing that this frank-eyed young man was doing his best to atone for his mistake of a few minutes ago. But she must not keep him waiting, and a moment later she sprang into the car. Although it was but a short ride to Felia's house, there was time enough for the doctor to chat pleasantly with the young girl, so by the time they had reached their destination Nathalie understood why Dr. Homer was such a favorite with the Pioneers.

Fortunately, Edith had caught Dr. Morrow just as he was about to set out to call on a patient, so he soon arrived. In a short time he and Dr.

Homer had set the broken limb and made the child comfortable, who, with a smile of content, received a bowl of bread and milk from Mammy, whose black face was wreathed in smiles again as she saw that the little one was not lying down at the bottom of the pond.

A half-hour later a group of girls straggled wearily along the main street of the village, animatedly discussing first one and then another detail of the morning's hunt. As they were all tired, it was unanimously decided to postpone the bird hike to another day.

When this decision was reached, Nathalie's bright face clouded as she exclaimed contritely, "Oh, girls, I'm awfully sorry I broke up the hike, but I was so anxious to find Rosy."

"Well, I for one am glad we gave it up," a.s.serted Kitty Corwin, "for girls, it paid for the disappointment to see that poor mother's joy when she saw her child."

"And the old black mammy-huh-she is a regular plantation c.o.o.n," chimed in Edith; "did you hear her shout 'Praise de Lord! Hallelujah!'? Oh, but how her eyes did s.h.i.+ne!"

"She was a black sunbeam, all right," observed Helen, "and it's all owing to Nathalie!" putting her arm about her friend and giving her an enthusiastic squeeze; "she ought to have a white star."

"A white star," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Nathalie, "what does that mean?"

"Why, it means that you should receive a badge of merit, but as a Pioneer can't receive a badge until she is a first-cla.s.s member, Mrs.

Morrow gives white stars instead to the girls who deserve badges but are not yet old enough to receive them," explained Helen. "We keep our stars and then sew them on a big United States flag we are making for our new Pioneer room."

"Oh, I should be pleased to have one!" cried Nathalie, "but it gives me more pleasure to know that you do not think I spoiled your fun, and have been so nice about it. I should just hate to have you think me officious!"

"But we didn't think that, Nathalie," a.s.sured Lillie quickly. "In fact, I guess we just didn't think at all, we were so intent on having our own selfish ways. We are all friends of yours, and as Pioneers and personally," she spoke warmly, "we are glad you won the victory over our naughty, wicked selves."

Several days later, Nathalie, who was still the maid of all work, stood was.h.i.+ng the breakfast dishes. Somehow, helping Mother seemed to have lost its charm. She felt as if she and Miss I Can were not as good friends as they were at the beginning of her kitchen campaign. O dear, she did wish Rosy would get better so Felia could come back. She sighed heavily, and then hastily wiped away a stray tear that was meandering down her cheek-she had heard a step on the back stoop.

"h.e.l.lo, Blue Robin!" was Helen's cheery greeting as she entered,-she usually came in by the back door in the morning-then she stopped, for Nathalie's usually smiling face wore such a look of woe that she exclaimed anxiously, "Oh, Nathalie, what is the matter?"

But her only answer was a stifled sob as the girl flung herself into a chair by the kitchen table, and dropping her head on her elbow gave way to the pent up flood that had been gathering for the last few days.

Helen stood a moment, uncertain what to say or do, dreading that some great calamity had overtaken the family. Then she stepped to her friend's side and lifting her head encircled her with her arm caressingly. "Now," she cried, softly patting the brown head, "tell friend Helen all about it."

Nathalie's tears flowed unrestrainedly for a moment and then, feeling somewhat better for the overflow, and a little ashamed of useless tears as she always called them, she withdrew from the friendly shelter and sat up. "Oh, it's just nothing at all, Helen," she cried in a choked voice, "only that I'm a great baby-and then-I'm tired"-her voice quavered. "I'm tired of was.h.i.+ng dishes and sweeping-" a sniffle-"all the time."

"Of course you are tired, who wouldn't be, Nat, with all the wonderful things you've done this last week?" sympathized Helen; "considering, too, that it's all new to you. Why, Mother says you are going to make a splendid Pioneer."

"Oh, did she?" asked Nathalie, her eyes brightening. "It makes one feel good to be praised, I have felt so discouraged," with an intake of her breath, "for I've tried so hard to do everything I could, and then Mother, why she hasn't said one word of praise since the first day.

Everybody just takes it all-all the work I do-just as if it was nothing, and things drag so. Of course I don't expect to be praised all the time," she hastened to add, "but oh, I don't seem to feel as happy about working as I did at first."

"Oh, well, you're tired," replied Helen condolingly. "I know just how you feel, for I used to feel the same way when I first began to help Mother around the house. You see the enthusiasm and the glory have all gone out of it."

"The enthusiasm and the glory?" repeated Nathalie in puzzled inquiry.

"Yes, the novelty of doing something new is the enthusiasm that put you on the job; and the praise you got for doing it-which made you feel as if you were awfully good-that's the glory. But when things get stale and people stop saying how smart you are and so on, why then it will be just plain duty all through. You know, the frosting always comes first before we get to the cake."

"Oh, I suppose that has something to do with it," responded Nathalie alertly, "when one comes to think of it. So from now on it will be just plain duty, won't it?" with a quiver of her chin, for somehow the prospect was not an enjoyable one at that moment.

"Yes, that's about the size of it," was the practical answer. "But if you keep right on doing what you ought to, you'll get something better than the sugary stuff. Just keep Miss I Can for your friend, and then after a time you will find that you like to do the very things that at first seemed so hard. Experience, Mother says, brings knowledge, and knowledge puts you in the end where you want to be."

"I wish it would," exclaimed Nathalie, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with sudden hope, "for oh, Helen, I do so want to know things, that is the useful arts, for I am so eager to learn how to make money the way you are doing! You know I have told you all about d.i.c.k, Helen," she lowered her voice, "I think it is just that, seeing the poor fellow striving to earn a little money so he can be made well again, that makes me so down-hearted, for I feel that I am not doing a thing to help him."

"But you are helping him, and your mother, too, Nathalie," said Helen.

"By the very work you are doing you are helping your mother to save money, that ought to be something to comfort you."

"Oh, but it's mean kind of work," emphasized Nathalie, "and then, too, it's only saving a mite; and it will take so much money for d.i.c.k's operation."

"Now, see here, Nathalie," exclaimed her friend, "let's figure this thing out." Taking a pencil and pad that always hung by the table with Nathalie's list of edibles to be served at each meal, she drew a chair up to the table and began to figure just how much Nathalie was saving her mother by doing the work herself.

Nathalie bent over her shoulder and watched eagerly as she saw the line of figures jotted down by Helen. Then she, too, put on her thinking-cap and in a few minutes the two girls had figured out quite a sum that Nathalie was actually saving in dollars and cents each week she did the work.

As Nathalie realized this fact, demonstrated so clearly by her friend, her eyes sparkled, and clapping her hands she cried, "Oh, Helen, I'm going to get Mother to let me do the work all the time-of course, as you say, the was.h.i.+ng will have to be done out-but oh, I shall feel-"

"Now, Nathalie, don't go off at a tangent; stop and consider before you make this suggestion to your mother. You must think just what it will cost you, that is, count what it will mean to suffer aches in your back and feet, to have fire-scorched cheeks,-they say cooking ruins the complexion,-red, sloppy hands, and all the rest of the penalties imposed on one for doing housework. If you put your hand to the plow, you know, once started you can't look back."

"Oh, yes, I know, Helen, it will be terrible to have to do these things, but if it will help me to earn money, even the teeniest bit, now that I know that it is to be done without the glory perhaps it won't be so hard. Oh, I know Miss I Can will help me!" Nathalie smiled through the mist that would blur her eyes, "for I must help d.i.c.k."

"Yes," returned her friend, "if you feel that way, determined to help d.i.c.k, go ahead; for that will serve as the glory, that is, the incentive will help you through lots of hard things."

Nathalie looked up at her friend's grave face with wonder-lit eyes. "Oh, Helen," she said solemnly, "do you know you are going to be a great woman? You are awfully wise for a girl of your age!"

Helen interrupted her with a merry laugh. "Oh, no, I'm not going to be a great woman at all. I should love to be-that is my ambition,-but one's ambitions are not apt to materialize the way one expects them to, you know. But I'll tell you, Nathalie," her face sobered, "I have a very wise mother-she tells me these things. And then as I go about I find from experience that what she has said comes true."

"Yes, Helen, you will be great," nodded Nathalie sagely. "Perhaps you will not go about blowing a trumpet to let people know you are one of the world's great ones, but you will be all the same, even if you never do a thing but live in this sleepy town and become a stenographer."

"Well, it looks that way," laughed Helen, "from the pile of typing that awaits me. Yes, I am, as you say, in a fair way to become a stenographer, but Ye Stars! if I do not become an expert one, I'll-well I'll go hang myself, as the boys say, for I must succeed!"

"Oh, are you really going, friend comforter?" laughed Nathalie, as Helen rose to go. "Yes, you are that, for you have given me lots of comfort this morning; you put new life in me when the cause was almost lost. On the strength of your calculations I'm going to lay my plans before Mother, and then I'm going to get some books and trinkets and go to see Rosy."

"Oh, yes, how is she?" inquired Helen interestedly. "I was thinking about her the other day."

"She is getting along nicely, but it is awfully hard for the little thing to lie there most of the time alone. I was down to see her yesterday and told her some stories, and I promised to come again to-day."

"I wish I could help you! But see here, Nathalie, speak to Grace and Lillie about the story-telling; perhaps they will help you at that.

Grace is a lady with plenty of leisure to waste, and Lillie Bell dotes on yarns."

"I did ask Lillie, but she said she was no good telling stories to children, and Grace-why, she said she was busy getting her clothes ready for the summer."

"There's Kitty. Ah, I expect to see her this afternoon. I'll ask her to lend you a hand, but I must go, so good-by and good luck to you, Story Lady!"

"Oh, Mother, you are just a dear!" cried Nathalie a little later, as she was about to set forth to see Rosy. Her mother had come down from the attic with a couple of old picture-books, and handed them to her to give to the little invalid.

"Gloriana! won't they make her eyes s.h.i.+ne!" exclaimed Nathalie as she tucked them under her arm, picked up the basket of goodies she had prepared, and hurried down the walk. As she knocked at the door of the gray shanty she heard Rosy whimpering softly. "Poor kiddie," she thought, with a wave of pity. Receiving no answer she pushed open the door, which was partly ajar, and entered. On the bed lay the little form with its head buried in a pillow, emitting a series of feeble whines.

"Good morning!" said the smiling visitor as she touched the half-buried shoulder.

At the sound of her voice the child's woolly head rolled over, and a smile of welcome radiated her tear-stained face.