The Girl Scouts at Rocky Ledge Part 30

"Where have you girls been?" began Becky, who stood waiting. "Did you not know this was story night?"

"We have been out scouting, and we did," replied Thistle in her most docile tone. "Becky, love, we have the bravest thrill of our entire career to unfold."

"Begin, please, by explaining the infraction of hours," said Miss Beckwith, although her manner belied her demand, and the summer twilight lasted.

"The thrill is none other than someone, anyone, dying of moans," said Wyn. "We have with us tonight----"

At this she craned her neck over the tallest of them to locate little Nora. But she, the guest of honor, was hiding behind Treble.

"When you hear the whole wonderful tale," promised Pell, "you will only be sorry you were not along. We have been out gunning for attic ghosts."

After more talk of this variety Nora was dragged forth.

How pretty she looked in the camp light! A glow from the fire that had been lighted for stories, surrounded the little prince, and, as the picturesque figure stood in the center of the group of admiring eyes, even the glory of the modern Scout uniform was threatened with eclipse.

In the late twilight the effect was entrancing.

"Isn't she darling?"

"Just look at those--panties?"

"Oh, don't you remember----"

"Sweet Alice Ben Bolt."

"No, not Alice, but the night we fought over those bloomers," recalled Treble.

"They're not bloomers. They're rompers."

Then began that whole foolish debate which ended up by Thistle declaring they might be overalls for all it mattered, if only the girls would let Nora tell her story. Pell and Treble agreed. The introduction was briefly outlined for Becky's benefit, then Nora was allowed to tell it as it appeared to her--that is, she was allowed to begin to tell it that way, but what with the interruptions, the suggestions, the questions, and the qualifying clauses, it was small wonder the willing culprit made poor headway.

As the story took the shape of a confession Nora seemed to be the culprit, but judging from the approval voiced by the mult.i.tude they all had little regard for _her_ brand of "crime." In other words, Nora only imagined she had offended, the entire detail made a most interesting story as it was told around the campfire blaze of Chickadee Patrol.

She admitted frankly that her early notions were anything but practical, she bravely recounted her weakness for fancy things, including ivory bureau sets and pink ribbons, to which more than one Chickadee added her own little admission, in fact, Pell said she always did and always would love pink; brown khaki and smoked pearl b.u.t.tons to the contrary notwithstanding.

The telling of her attempt at attic tenancy brought forth peal after peal of laughter, in which Nora joined. Then she told all about her disguise as the fabled and famous prince.

"I think it is all too jolly for words," insisted Laddie, "and what do you say, girls, to our adopting Prince Adorable for our mascot?"

This precipitated more trouble. Nora was put on the table, that long box used when weather was pleasant and drenched when weather was wet, and from that grandstand, or throne, she was called upon to make silly speeches, prompted by Wyn and interrupted by Betta.

Alma objected. She insisted Nora had hinted to her something she ought to tell the others. And she further maintained it was a matter serious enough to put a stop to all nonsense, and "if the girls aren't willing to listen quietly, I shall take Nora over to the other tent, where she can tell Becky in peace," threatened Alma.

This put a soft pedal on all unnecessary sounds: even Wyn desisted.

"Tell us, Nora, please do tell," begged Wyn. "We have had fun enough to give our poor jaws a rest. Mine are aching from laughing."

So Nora began.

CHAPTER XXII

THE DANGER SQUAD IN ACTION

It was a fascinating tale. Every detail told by Nora took on new value as it was silently applauded by her eager audience. Thus encouraged she waxed eloquent, and when she finished all about the wearing of the Fauntleroy costume, then her desire to tell Alma the truth, when she knew the Scouts were teasing the Tenderfoot, the recital might well have been called a credit, even to the girl who felt guilty of its secrets.

"You see," she said navely, "I was always so much alone. I had no companion but Barbara, and she agreed with everything I said."

"What a change this must be!" murmured Wyn.

"Hus.h.!.+" warned Betta. "Funny as you are, Wynnie, you _can_ be rude."

"And now, girls," said Nora in a brand new tone of voice, "as I have told you all of that, I feel anxious to tell you something else. I have another secret and I think it is much more serious than anything else that has happened on this wonderful vacation."

"Out with it," begged some one, but Nora did not hear the thoughtless phrase.

Miss Beckwith sat with the girls, encouraging their confidences, and the usual safety in numbers was surely a clue to the satisfaction of the novel meeting. Secrets were best shared by the mult.i.tude, then what one was not wise enough to know, some one would surely be clever enough to guess--so far as solution of the problem went.

"One day when I was wandering around--it was the day we had such a wonderful time----" Nora started.

"When you learned to swim?" prompted Wynnie.

"I think it was. Well, I just walked along a lane I had never found before," continued the prince--for she was still that n.o.ble character, "and under a cave of pines--they grew so thick I could hardly see there, it was almost as dark as night; and right there, in a bed of leaves I saw something move."

Just who was it that choked back Wyn's interruption does not matter, but presently Nora continued:

"At first, of course, I thought it was a dog or something like that, but all of a sudden it sat up!"

"Oh!" exclaimed the sympathetic Alma.

"Yes, it sat up and looked at me with eyes like coals of fire."

"Nora!" shouted Laddie. "I am all goose flesh, please tell us who had the eyes."

"I'm trying to," said Nora, realizing the value of pauses. "I was so frightened I wanted to run, but before I could do so the creature showed how frightened she was----"

"She!" This was Betta.

"Yes, it was a poor, miserable little girl, all rags and eyes, and so sad looking! Really girls, my heart went out to her," declared the story teller in her most Nora-esque manner.

t.i.tters barely tinctured the atmosphere. Miss Beckwith begged the girls to listen politely.

"I managed to get her to tell me her name," said Nora next. "And it was Lucia."

"Lucia," repeated a chorus in perfect time, p.r.o.nouncing it "Luchia."

"Yes, a poor, neglected, little Italian girl, who has to work on one of the big farms----"