The Girl Scouts at Rocky Ledge Part 23

"Very bad man. I hate Nick." This last sentence was so purely American, that even Nora guessed the child had come from mixed surroundings.

Holding to her shawl Nora could feel, she imagined, a shudder pa.s.s through the slim frame at the very mention of the name Nick.

Lucia dragged her scarf off a bush. "I go now," she said with just a tinge of politeness. "You bring pie?"

"Yes, a big pie. Don't forget to come."

"I come--sure."

The queer figure stood for a moment out in the clear sunlight, and Nora had a chance to see her features. She was pretty, strikingly so, in spite of her pinched cheeks and her too l.u.s.trous eyes.

"Please--you don't tell anybody?" came the appeal. "I work all day and pull weeds, but like to sleep little bit by the big trees, sometimes."

Then Nora guessed. "You mean you are sick and come here to rest?"

"Please."

"Well, you just come here whenever you want to, Lucia," said Nora with feeling. "The idea of a tiny tot like you working at pulling weeds! And with all those heavy rags on you! It's a shame!" she declared indignantly.

"You don't tell?" the child persisted anxiously.

"No, Lucia. I'll never tell. I have a lot of secrets, and this one I won't even tell Alma."

"Good bye."

Like a frightened animal the waif sped across the field and dodged into the next clump of shrubbery.

"She is afraid of being seen," reasoned Nora. "Who ever saw such a pitiful little thing?"

Then it dawned upon her that Cap had not even sniffed suspiciously.

"Did you like her, Cap?" she asked, patting the patient animal, that all during the broken conversation had lain at Nora's feet without so much as a single growl. "Did you feel sorry for her, too, Cap?"

He may have or there may have been some other reason for his indifference, but now he was willing and anxious to go home. It was lunch time and Cap never needed an announcement.

Nora followed him. She was too astonished to know even what to think.

That a little beggar girl should hide in the bushes to rest from hard work!

"I'll bring her the nicest things Vita can bake," she concluded. Then came the thought: How would she get Vita to give her the supplies without making known the use she was to put them to?

Picnics were common. These would surely supply an excuse for carrying out food, and, after all, wouldn't it be a picnic for Lucia?

Nora's heart was fluttering.

"I never knew what a vacation was before," she told Cap. "Here I am having a love of a time and doing things worth remembering."

How different from the fas.h.i.+onable summers she had been accustomed to!

Nowadays she hardly had time to look in a gla.s.s, and yet she was enjoying every hour. It was like discovering something new continually, and did Nora but know the secret of the adventure it was simply that she was discovering her own resources--she was getting acquainted with Nora Blair.

But miracles are not common, and Nora was not yet completely transformed from a sensitive, secretive girl, to an honest, frank, fearless Girl Scout.

Even the new discovery of Lucia and her sad plight was now locked up in her breast.

But should it have been?

CHAPTER XVII

A PICNIC AND OTHERWISE

A rush of events followed. Chief among them was that of a Girl Scout picnic, inaugurated by Ted and Jerry, carried out by Nora and enjoyed by all.

It was a delightful hike out to the Ledge, that big, rugged rock that leaned over a pretty, disjoined lake, made up of tributaries from springs and rain flows. Rocky Ledge was exactly that--narrow, rocky; a table or shelf that leaned out just far enough to form a little portico over the frivolous waters beneath. It was a charmed spot, with many thrilling legends to its credit, and being different from the entire scenery surrounding, it gave the place its name--just like one girl different from her companions will stand out as an example, if she happens to be that kind of different that is interesting.

Not that other parts of this territory were commonplace. No, indeed.

There was a fertile farm country, Jerry's precious forests, Ted's wonderful b.u.t.terfly haunts and even Nora's cedar groves; but these did not touch the high spot enjoyed by that novel little ledge; hence the whole territory was known as Rocky Ledge.

The picnic marked midsummer's festivity. Chickadee Patrol invited members from other camps out to the Ledge, and when Pell insisted that Thistle and her aids "do up enough grub" for those invited, a strike was narrowly averted.

"You know, Pell Mell, the Mantons will bring barrels of things to eat, so why should we make samples of our miserable home-cooking failures?"

demanded Thistle. Betta was standing hard by egging her on.

"They will bring the lunch, that is, The Lunch, but what about a little four o'clock snack? There are silver springs out there with water cress on the cob, and I know our girls are never loath to nibble a bite or two when out on location," Pell reminded her mutinous crew. That was Pell.

She had a way of getting things done and at the same time making a joke of it.

"Is Nora going to be inducted?" asked Betta. Next to Alma, Betta was the most avowed champion of the girl from the Nest.

"Yes, we had a letter today and Becky told us we would have a business meeting Wednesday, when your precious Babe Nora will be led to the stake. She will accept the halter of allegiance to Pell, Betta and the rest of the mob----"

"If you feel so frisky, Pell, I wish you would work off some of the extra on this tin can. I am supposed to open it with a souvenir trick can opener. I am sure Betta brought it from the state fair, B. C. 150.

It has all the ear marks of antiquity without any of the teeth,"

declared Wyn, who was struggling with an implement, curious and wonderful.

"That's a perfectly good can opener," defended Betta. "Jimbsy purloined it from his own mother's table----"

"Which supports my theory," interrupted Wyn. "His mother's table is none other than antique. But there! It did cut--my hand into the bargain,"

and she defied all her first-aid rules by sticking a finger in her mouth. "Glad it cut something."

"Where's Alma?" asked Laddie. "She always gets out of the drudgery."

"Alma was tagged along to town to buy things," explained Thistle. "Becky is hearing her lessons on the way. Alma is our little freshman, you know, girls, and while she doesn't wear mourning, she is often in sorrow."

"She has a great time with Nora, I notice," remarked Doro. "I fancy between the two of them they have fixed it up about the prince.

Shouldn't be a bit surprised if they invited him to the picnic."

"Now, remember," ordered Wyn, "don't dare say prince. Say duke if you must, but spare Alma's feelings on the princeling. But honestly, girls, wasn't it a joke?"