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Title: Norma: A Flower Scout

Author: Lillian Elizabeth Roy

Release Date: January 3, 2022 [eBook #67091]

Language: English

Produced by: Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
             https://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT ***





                        NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT




[Illustration: The hostess would dig up a small plant and place it
carefully in the basket.]




                                NORMA:
                            A FLOWER SCOUT

                       By LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY

                              Author of
           “Natalie: A Garden Scout,” “Janet: A Stock-Farm
              Scout,” “The Blue Bird Series,” “The Five
                        Little Starrs Series.”

            Endorsed by and Published with the Approval of
                         NATIONAL GIRL SCOUTS

                          A. L. BURT COMPANY
                         Publishers New York
                         Printed in U. S. A.




                           The Girl Scouts
                         Country Life Series

                    A SERIES OF STORIES FOR GIRLS
                       By LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY

                      NATALIE: A GARDEN SCOUT
                      JANET: A STOCK-FARM SCOUT
                      NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT

                           Copyright, 1925
                        By A. L. BURT COMPANY

                        NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT
                          Made in “U. S. A.”




                               CONTENTS

                     I Norma’s Letter Home.
                    II Mrs. Tompkins Coaches Norma.
                   III An Automobile Is Donated.
                    IV Building Bird Houses.
                     V Mignonette and Chrysanthemum.
                    VI Flower Days and Legends.
                   VII The Rock and Water Garden.
                  VIII The Rain Interferes.
                    IX Various Undesired Tasks.
                     X The Water Garden Completed.
                    XI The Joy of Good Construction.
                   XII The Pigeon Cote.




NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT


CHAPTER I

NORMA’S LETTER HOME.


“Dear Folks at Home:

“Here I am at Green Hill, just as much at home after a few hours’
time, as if I had been here for years. But, oh, Mother! Such an
arrival as we three girls experienced! I wish you could have seen us
when we finally reached the farm. How Daddy would have laughed! But
you, Muzzer, would have wept at the sight of my shoes, they were so
covered with mud. And you would have reminded me that you had just
paid fifteen dollars for them, downtown. But it was not my fault—that
mud. It was Amity Ketchum’s fault. I’ll tell you about it.

“When Belle Barlow, Frances Lowden and I jumped from the poky local
train that stopped at Four Corners on signal only, we looked all
around for some sort of a hack to take us and our luggage to Green
Hill. We remembered what Mrs. James had told us about the lazy driver
who took them to the farm when they arrived, but he was not to be seen
when we got there.

“Then we went to the ticket-office to ask the agent about some sort of
a conveyance, but the place was closed and not a soul anywhere about
the building. We looked at each other and laughed.

“‘There’s but one alternative, girls—walk!’ declared Belle, in her
usual calm superior manner.

“The drizzle that was sifting down when we left New York had become a
fine rain at Four Corners, making the roads muddy and full of small
pools. We had our suitcases and smaller traps to carry, as well as
hold up our umbrellas to keep our new straw hats from becoming
discouraged and droopy. Can you picture us?

“As Frances remarked after we had hiked for a hundred yards and
suddenly caught a squall of wind sweeping over the fields: ‘The
luggage acted as ballast and anchorage at the same time, to keep us
from flying up in the air with temper.’ Struggling along in spite of
handicaps, we finally reached the Post Office store.

“Now what do you think! There sat that lazy Amity Ketchum tilted back
in an old wooden chair, his feet crossed on top of a small cylinder
stove, discussing present-day politics. If the three of us had not
felt so aggrieved, we must have laughed outright at the sight of the
solitary hackman in the profession at Four Corners, absolutely
regardless of trade, or the difficulties his clients must experience
on such a day, with their misplaced confidence in Amity causing them
such free exercise as we were having.

“Why will doting parents misname their progeny as this man Amity was
named, Mother? He is so far from being amiable that his name should
suggest just the opposite of what ‘Amity’ means. We girls learned from
the store keeper that Amity Ketchum was the local Jehu, so Belle spoke
to him in rather an imperious tone.

“‘Why were you not at the station to meet this train, as we wired you
to do?’

“Amity carefully lifted one foot after the other, from the cold
stove-top to the floor, and slowly turned around in his chair to stare
at us. Then he actually ignored us and replaced his feet on the
fireless stove, and tilted back the chair and resumed his discussion
where he had abruptly interrupted himself to take a good look at
Belle. This made the other country men, who were lounging about the
place, grin at us as if we were big sillies. But Belle was furious. I
knew Amity was in for it when she said in her most cutting voice:

“‘I believe you are the driver of that sorry-looking freak standing
outside that goes by the name of Cherub. Was ever a beast as that, or
a man like you, so contrarily named? Why, just look at the poor excuse
called Cherub! His coat of fur has not been shorn for countless moons,
and the size of his hoofs must have caused the holes in the road which
are now filled with water like miniature lakes. Then give a thought to
those queer tufts of hair growing from above the hoofs—like the
Scotchman’s precious emblem that swings from his belt. And the
vehicle! ye gods, what a rare picture for the movie camera! Its wheels
running at different angles from each other in the most independent
way, and the dashboard that was broken through by the last passenger,
several weeks ago, still dangling to trip the Cherub’s heels. Well!
Four Corners must sit up, now, and take notice. A group of _live_
young people have come to stay, and sleepers like this driver and his
spirited steed, will be left behind unless he churks up a bit.’

“Amity Ketchum had never experienced any controversy with the natives
over his indolent habits, as they accepted him and his profession just
as he was. But Belle’s denunciation caused his lower jaw to drop and
render him speechless, while the farmers who had nothing to do on a
rainy day, laughed heartily at Belle’s words.

“We turned to go out, but Frances suddenly had a brilliant idea.
‘People like you seldom appreciate what you have until you lose it. If
some other young farmer about here would start a cab line for Four
Corners, we would send him all the patronage we will have daily at the
farm.’

“But no one rose to this tempting bait, so we poor bedraggled girls
had to plod onward to Green Hill, carrying our bags and umbrellas as
before, with injured pride weighting us down.

“Well, we finally reached the farm where Mrs. James and Natalie and
Janet were eagerly watching for us. They had heard the engine whistle
an hour before, and wondered what delayed us so. We described our
differences of opinion with the hackman, much to Mrs. James’s
amusement, and the girls’ hilarious laughter. But Rachel who stood in
the doorway, listening, was furious. She declared that if she only
owned an automobile she’d telegraph for her nephew, Sambo, to come
right out to Four Corners and earn a decent living by taxi-cabbing in
Four Corners. But her suggestion inspired Frances who is writing a
letter to her Father about some scheme she has in mind. ‘She won’t
tell us a thing about it until she hears,’ she said.

“Now that the unpleasant walk is over and we are comfortable again, we
can laugh at the incident. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have
missed the fun for anything, as it will prove to be one of the
laughable experiences of our summer at Green Hill. There goes the
dinner call, folkses—I’ll have to finish this letter later.” * * *

“It is now supper time, dear folks, and I am sitting in my room to add
a few lines to this letter. This noon, directly after dinner—every one
in the country has dinner at noon and supper at night—so we fell into
the same customs at the farm. Right after dinner, Natalie informed us
three girls that we were all invited to visit Solomon’s Seal Girl
Scouts’ Camp. This is the group of girls I told you about, that Miss
Mason organized last year, and now has in camp at the woodland of the
farm.

“We had a most interesting visit with the girl scouts. They did so
many stunts for us that it would fill a book were I to try and write
it all for you now. The object of the meeting was to discuss the plan
of having Mrs. James form a second Patrol of Solomon’s Seal scouts.
Miss Mason’s scouts form Patrol Number One, and we girls will be
Patrol Number Two. Then we can apply at the National Headquarters in
New York City for a charter which officially registers us as a Troop.

“It was decided that we girls, being five, and the three girls Natalie
and Janet know, and asked to join the Patrol, will comprise the
membership of the new Patrol. But we will be Tenderfeet for a month,
before we can call ourselves regular scouts.

“This evening, after supper, we sat talking about the work Natalie and
Janet are doing on the farm. Natalie started a vegetable garden soon
after she arrived at the farm, and now you ought to see those beds!
Really, you would be amazed to see how the cuttings and seeds Natalie
planted are growing. She says she is going to sell the produce to the
scouts at camp, and to Rachel, for the house-table. If there is more
than enough to supply these needs, she is going to send it to New York
to friends to buy. In this way she expects to earn enough money during
the summer to pay for her own board and keep. Then Jimmy (Mrs. James,
you know) can save the cost of Nat’s board and deposit it in the bank
for her future.

“When Janet found Natalie was working for a living in such a
delightful way, she, too, got the idea of starting something to earn
her living this summer, and save the board money that her folks send
every week to Jimmy, for a future college education. Janet started a
stock farm. She bought three darling little pink pigs and some
chickens. She expects to sell the eggs the hens lay, and sell the
broilers the setting hens will soon hatch out for her. This will bring
in ready money every day, and in a short time she will be able to buy
a cow, a calf, a lot of ducks, geese and turkeys, and maybe some sheep
and everything else that belongs to stock work on a farm.

“You really won’t believe how much money Janet will have by the end of
this summer, all cleared out of the stock investment. But she proved
it to me by showing me the actual figures on paper. Eggs are so
expensive now, and broilers, too, always bring a fancy price in the
market. Then, when she sells the milk, butter and cheese from the cow,
the squabs from the pigeons, the ducks, geese and turkeys at
Thanksgiving time, she will be repaid for her labor during the summer.
The three pigs will fatten and grow without any care or cost to Janet,
as they just eat whatever is left from the house; but pork brings
awfully high prices when sold, so Janet will clear about a hundred and
fifty dollars on her three pigs, when she sells them to the butcher. I
wish I had been here first, and had had the opportunity to start a
stock farm such as Janet has.

“But I suppose I would have made a failure of it, as I love to dream
and idealize things. And Janet certainly can’t sit and idealize pigs
and cows and such creatures, because I watched her tonight—she almost
cried because she forgot to feed the pigs their supper, and they
squealed unmercifully for hours until she mixed the corn-meal mush and
carried it to them.

“It was suggested by Jimmy that I cultivate flowers in the beds
already laid out but, thus far, nothing is planted in them. There are
several hardy shrubs and flowers that come up every year which were
left here by the former tenant, but they need pruning and cleaning out
before they will look tidy and thrifty. Jimmy says she will help me
all she can in the flower-gardening, so I have decided to try it,
anyway.

“Natalie told me that Mrs. Tompkins, the wife of the man who owns the
post office store, offered to give them all the slips and cuttings we
needed to plant around the house at Green Hill. I am sending to a
large seed store in New York, for a catalogue of their seeds and
flowers, and will choose those which will grow quickly, as it is July
and several months have been lost before I got here.

“Nat said that Mrs. Tompkins has the most beautiful flower gardens
back of the house! I am going there to visit her and see her flowers.
Jimmy thinks this work is just suited to my temperament, as I always
loved flowers, and feel quite enthusiastic over the prospect of
growing them and taking care of them. I couldn’t see where any profit
could come to me out of the work of planting and watching over the
flowers, but Jimmy says there are as many ways for me to dispose of my
flowers for money, as it is possible for Natalie to sell vegetables,
or Janet to sell stock.

“Before you see your dreamy Norma again, she will be a professional
floriculturist. As a beginning in the business, Mrs. James authorized
me to take charge of the landscaping of the grounds about the house. I
am also going to have charge of the lawns. To keep the grass cut short
and the edges trimmed neatly, and the people from walking across the
grass and wearing footpaths over the lawn. I am to be paid for all
garden or lawn work, the same as Farmer Ames charges the household for
his time. Jimmy also told me that I shall be paid for any work I am
asked to do about the place, whether it is helping Natalie weed or
plant her vegetable gardens, or doing odd jobs.

“But the flower beds will be all my own to do with as I like, so there
will be no pay for planting or raising flowers. It is such fascinating
work—this flower seeding and planting, that I count every moment as
wasted when I am not doing something to improve the garden or lawns.

“Mrs. James is the heart of everything at Green Hill Farm, from Rachel
as house-worker, down to the dog, Grip, who belongs to Sam, the handy
man; everything turns to her for advice and help. What would we all do
without her?” * * *

“10 P. M.—I was interrupted in my letter just as I finished the last
paragraph. The girls called me to hurry downstairs and walk with them
to Four Corners. I went, but Mrs. James and I stopped to visit Mrs.
Tompkins’s gardens while the other girls went on, with Hester
Tompkins, to see Nancy Sherman and Dorothy Ames about forming a scout
patrol. I can’t go to sleep without telling you about Mrs. Tompkins’s
flowers, so I am sitting up to write, but all the others are fast
asleep.

“I never thought the plain old earth could produce such lovely colors
and the delicate perfumes Mrs. Tompkins’s flowers have. She has a
large area devoted to her flowers, and there I saw almost every kind
of plant, blossom, shrub, vine or tree that grows north. She says it
is because she loves them so much that they bloom and thrive so
splendidly for her.

“I believe that I could love flowers that way, too, and maybe they
will bloom and thrive successfully for me, too. I told Mrs. Tompkins
that I knew of no pleasanter way to live than to see such lovely
rewards as the flowers, for one’s time and patience.

“She looked at me very searchingly, for a minute, and then said:
‘Norma, I think you will be a successful florist if you keep at the
work. But you cannot slight such a calling once you undertake to grow
the plants.’

“I wish you could see the great basketful of slips, roots and cuttings
that I brought home from Mrs. Tompkins’s gardens tonight. I am going
to get up at sunrise in the morning and plant them. Jimmy and I were
visiting Mrs. Tompkins for almost two hours, yet it seemed like ten
minutes.

“Now that this letter is finished, it can be mailed in the morning and
I am free to start my garden work. Don’t be alarmed if you do not hear
from me again for a long time as I will not have much time to spare
once I begin gardening and landscaping the farm. When it begins to
look like a real picture garden I want you both to come out and see
what I can do. But do write often,

                                                To your loving
                                                                 Norma.

P. S.—If you possibly can send me my two months’ allowance in advance,
I would be very grateful, as I want to buy seeds and bulbs, and lots
of things for my work. Please send it _at once_.

                                                                 Norma.




                              CHAPTER II

                     MRS. TOMPKINS COACHES NORMA.


The foregoing letter was sealed and mailed that forenoon when Farmer
Ames drove past on his way to the general store. But there may be some
readers who have not met Natalie and her friends at Green Hill Farm,
and so, are not aware that Natalie left New York City with Mrs. James,
her valuable companion and friend, and Rachel, the old southern cook
who had been with the Averills for many years, to live on a farm in
Westchester County that had been left the girl by her mother.

The old Colonial house on the farm was large and comfortable, so
Natalie’s four school chums had agreed to spend the summer there, and
board with Mrs. James. This income would help pay current expenses of
housekeeping, and the girls could enjoy the freedom of country life
and be happy in each other’s company.

All the amusing incidents that occurred to Natalie when she launched
her plan and started a vegetable garden to help defray expenses, and
the still more ludicrous experiences Janet had after she began her
stock farm, are told in the two preceding volumes of this country life
series, namely: “Natalie: A Garden Scout,” and “Janet: A Stock-Farm
Scout.”

The same day that Norma’s letter went to her parents, a letter written
by Frances Lowden was also mailed at Four Corners. In Frances’s letter
she begged her parents to leave the automobile at the farm when they
went to Colorado for the summer months. The reason for wanting the car
at Green Hill was explained in the other volumes; that Frances
proposed running a jitney as her business venture that summer, and
thus put Amity Ketchum out of his profession for the time being.

How this venture succeeded and how Frances added to this undertaking
the other branches of work that won her the badges in scoutdom, is
told in full in her book which follows this one.

The preceding evening, while four of the girls called on Nancy Sherman
and Hester Tompkins to make an appointment for the meeting of the two
scout patrols, Mrs. James took Norma and introduced her to Mrs.
Tompkins, the flower lover.

“I trust we are not disturbing you, Mrs. Tompkins, but I wanted to
introduce Norma to you, as I think you two will be very close friends
after you get acquainted with each other’s ideals,” said Mrs. James.

“I’m glad you came in, as Hester just went out to visit Nancy Sherman
for a little time this evening, and I am quite alone. I was just on
the point of going out to my garden and watch the bud on a
night-bloomer. I hope it opens tonight.”

“Oh, then, let us go with you, as Norma is going to start the flower
gardens at the farm, and will be very grateful to you for any hints or
helps you can give her,” explained Mrs. James.

“I’m glad to find someone who is interested in my hobby,” was Mrs.
Tompkins’ reply, as she smiled at Norma. “Come right out and let me
introduce you to my favorites in the flower beds.”

Norma and Mrs. James followed their hostess out to her large gardens,
and Mrs. Tompkins began describing various plants as they passed them.

“You’ll find that most of my flowers in the beds nearest the house are
all of the old-fashioned variety, because they give out such sweet
perfume. I love to sit by my back window and smell their refreshing
odors. It is payment in full for all the time I give to their food and
growth.”

The two visitors walked slowly along the neat footpath and stopped
frequently to stoop and smell of a bright blossom, or admire a
wonderful color of a flower.

“I try to use good judgment in the arrangement of my plants, too, as
well as to group the colors so they will blend instead of fight with
each other. Sometimes, I have great difficulty in this arrangement, as
a flower will open and surprise me with an entirely different color or
shade than I expected. Quite often, the bees, or birds, will carry a
germ from one flower to another when they visit it to sip the nectar,
and this fertilization of the seed, after the flower dies, is made
manifest in a totally different color in the next production of the
plant.”

“Oh, how interesting! I never knew such things happened in a flower
garden,” exclaimed Norma.

Mrs. Tompkins laughed at the girl’s very evident interest. “You will
find stranger and more absorbing things happening in a flower garden,
than this very common occurrence. Because you see, it really depends
upon the breezes, the bees, or the birds—sometimes, on a creeping
insect or caterpillar—to carry pollen and the fertilizing germs from
one flower to another. And Nature seldom errs in her judgments,
either.”

“Mrs. Tompkins,” now asked Mrs. James, “do you know anything of the
quality of the soil in the flower beds at Green Hill?”

“I’m afraid I am not well enough acquainted with it to render any
verdict on it now. But I could visit you and examine it, so as to give
you an intelligent answer on what flowers it will raise. The last
tenant of the farm did not waste much time, or money, on the floral
side of the grounds. His hobby was vegetable growing and the barn
yard, and his wife cared little for gardening, so the beds were
generally neglected.

“Fortunately, there is no danger of spoiling soil when it is not
planted, and it is a very easy matter to enrich it so that any plant
will thrive in it. The only impossible soil is what is known as ‘hard
pan,’ but we find little of that around here.”

“I forked over some of the dirt in one of the beds and found it was
rather dry and lacking in richness. Now this may be due to a sandy
soil, or it may mean the soil is impoverished and needs more
vitalizing properties before we plant the flowers,” said Mrs. James.

“If the ground was well manured early this spring or if you use good
barn yard manure this fall, the beds will show a fine condition by
next spring. I should use about a half-barrel full of manure to a
square yard of the soil. But that will not do you any good for
immediate planting. I would have to see the soil before I prescribe
now for it,” explained Mrs. Tompkins.

“If Janet adds to her poultry business and buys pigeons and other
feathered fowl very soon, we can use that manure for the beds. I’ve
heard that poultry manure is best for flowers,” ventured Mrs. James.

“I’ll tell you what I do,” returned Mrs. Tompkins. “I believe poultry
manure is one of the best to be had for any purpose with plants, as it
is rich in nitrogen, easily stored and handled, and does not contain
the grain or weed seeds that stall manure has and always reproduces
when used in the garden. I remove any droppings from the perches and
the floor of the house where the fowl roost; then I sweep the floors
of all the coops, and use a fine tooth rake to clean out the poultry
yards. These I throw in the box where that particular compost is kept.
If I have any waste vegetable matter from the gardens or the kitchen
garbage, I mix that with the poultry manure and leave it to decay
thoroughly.

“I have learned that such a compost heap, far enough from the house to
prevent any disagreeable odors from reaching us, will attract the
chickens when they are at large, each day, to exercise. They will
scratch in the heap and mix it better than I can. You do not need
nearly as much poultry manure as you would of stall manure.”

“What kind of manure can we use now that will not burn the plants
Norma may wish to raise?” asked Mrs. James.

“As I said before, I had better test the soil before I commit myself
to reply. If the soil is damp, she’d better use some wood ashes from
the fire-places, to furnish the potash and improve the condition of
the soil. Bone dust makes a good fertilizer that can be used at most
times, but it does not provide any humus to the ground. I think I
should use a fine bone dust for present needs, but use a coarse powder
for spring or fall enriching.”

Norma now interrupted this conversation by exclaiming: “Oh, what a
beautiful bed of gladiolis! In New York we would have to pay a dollar
for six of those stalks.”

“I’m very fond of my gladiolis, and so are my bees and birds,
especially the humming-birds. They hover in and out of the blossoms as
long as there is one to hold honey or nectar. My July flowering
gladiolis are planted in early spring and produce magnificent spikes
of flowers right through to frost time. I plant many of the bulb in
late autumn and protect them from the frost with straw sweepings from
the stable.”

One corner of the garden was a mass of gorgeous color produced by
great peonies. Mrs. James pointed at them and remarked about their
size and the sweetness which she could smell as far away as she was.

“I am justly proud of them,” smiled Mrs. Tompkins. “I was careful to
plant them where they would be protected from the east wind. They love
a deep fertile soil and will thrive well in a sunny sheltered garden.
You can grow them from seed, but you will wait a long time before
enjoying the flowers. If you transplant a well-rooted plant, you will
have flowers the following season.”

“I don’t suppose we can plant any roots so late as this?” queried
Norma, anxiously.

“No, it would merely kill the plant and the root would dry up in the
ground.”

The iris, the phloxes, the pinks, lavender, portulacae and many other
old-fashioned flowers were discussed, and for each one, Mrs. Tompkins
had a valuable lesson to give Norma. As they went along the paths,
Norma carrying a flat-bottomed basket, the hostess would dig up a
small plant which had sprung up from a seed beside the older plant,
and place it carefully in the basket. Thus by the time the three had
covered the length of the paths in this section of the garden, Norma
had almost a full basket of young slips and roots to take home for her
own gardens. Then they walked over to a garden well enclosed with
hedges, both low and high.

It brought forth a simultaneous exclamation of admiration, as Mrs.
James and Norma saw that this large garden contained all kinds of
roses, from the single American Beauty standing upright and queenly,
to the tiny bush prolific with pink blooms. The hedges, too, were well
worth admiring and seeing.

On the side nearest the other flower-beds, the low hedge was comprised
of hyssop, rosemary and lavender. On either side were hedges of roses,
thickly grown and kept well-trimmed, but back of the riot of color and
perfume of the rose garden proper, stood dark green privet and back of
that a row of dwarf cedars. This effectually screened the barns, but
what really covered the grey, unpainted buildings were the luxuriant
vines and creepers which were trained up over the roof, and hung in
festoons from gables and dormer windows set in the roof.

Standing, as the visitors now did, beside the low hedge of flowers,
and gazing across the roses to the taller hedge of cedar and then up
at the tangle of green vines, the effect was lovely. And so thought
the woman who had accomplished this effect.

After Norma had inhaled the perfume and sighed in an ecstasy of
pleasure at the beautiful roses glowing before her, Mrs. Tompkins
retraced her steps toward the house, as the twilight was falling and
the dew began to gather on the foliage of the plants.

Norma carried the basket as if it were filled with frail creations of
mist, but she asked questions, nevertheless.

“Why do you have table oilcloth spread out over the basket, Mrs.
Tompkins?”

“To keep the soil from drying and to keep the roots and plants moist
after they are placed in the basket. The oilcloth keeps the air from
circulating about the roots and soil.”

“Then why have such a shallow basket. Would not a deep one keep away
the air?”

“If we used a deep basket you would have to reach down into it and,
perhaps, break a delicate stem, or catch your sleeve, or leaves of
other plants, while you are removing a plant or root. By having such a
shallow basket, one is not tempted to place other plants with their
soil, on top of those in the bottom, as might be the case if one used
a deep basket.”

As the three reached the back piazza which was completely hidden under
vines, Norma remarked aloud: “It’s a wonder Mrs. Tompkins never went
into the florist business, instead of keeping all these wonderful
flowers and her valuable knowledge about them, to herself.”

Mrs. Tompkins smiled. “I’ll tell you something that I seldom speak of.
I have had many tempting offers of large salaries and easy hours, to
take charge of private greenhouses owned by millionaires who like to
raise prize flowers; and also from commercial florists to superintend
their greenhouses, because I have won quite a reputation for myself
through my successful floriculture. But I stayed at home to work with
my own garden and with my old-fashioned tools and ways.”

“Oh, Mrs. Tompkins! Didn’t you want fame and riches?” cried Norma,
scarcely able to understand why one should refuse such wonderful
gifts.

“Well, maybe I am queer, but I love flowers from a different
standpoint than these growers of fancy and freakish plants,” explained
Mrs. Tompkins. “It would hurt me to see the boss cutting all my young
and glorious buds and blossoms to sell to a city market. I would see,
in my mind’s eye, all my pets being sold to cold individuals for
decorating their homes for parties, or to pin at their waist, without
a thought for the sweet life of the flowers. And naturally, I would
scold the owner of the greenhouse for such wholesale destruction. Now
put me in charge of a rich man’s greenhouses, and tell me to produce a
giant rose or chrysanthemum with which to win a prize and a newspaper
comment! I couldn’t do it. I love all flowers so that I would fight to
protect them. In my own home garden, I am ruler and no one tells me to
strive for a prize, or sell my blossoms for money. And my flowers know
I love them, so they really race with each other to see which one can
offer me the finest blossoms.”

Norma laughed delightedly at this explanation, and Mrs. James nodded
her head understandingly, as she murmured: “That is the way I could
love the flowers if I allowed myself to specialize with them. And
because I think Norma is much the same, I wanted her to try the flower
gardening and then come and meet you.”

“Yes, I am that way!” declared Norma. “The other girls always laughed
at me when I refused to pin flowers at my girdle, because I said they
would droop and die so quickly. That’s why they dubbed me ‘Sentimental
Norma.’ But it wasn’t that I hated to wear them, but that I couldn’t
bear the thought of how much longer the flowers would have lived and
shed their fragrance abroad, had they been able to remain on the
plant. Then the bees and birds and all Nature would have benefited
more than by cutting the flower to please one person.”

Mrs. Tompkins now learned from Norma’s guileless remark how idealistic
and poetical the girl really was. She stepped forward and placed one
hand on the tangled waves of hair and said: “I see we are going to be
very good friends, Norma.”

Norma smiled up at the plain-faced woman and Mrs. James showed her
satisfaction at the way Norma was accepted by their hostess. The other
girls who had gone to Nancy Sherman’s had not yet returned to the
Tompkins house, so the three flower lovers sat on the narrow front
piazza and waited for them.

Twilight had given way to grey evening, and the frogs began croaking,
and the little lizards chirping over in the meadow across the road as
the three friends sat and talked of various things pertaining to
floriculture.

“If you find the soil in any section of your garden of a clay nature,
you will need to lighten it. Sand generally needs rich farm yard
manure to strengthen it. This must be dug under and well mixed for
about two feet in depth. As I said a while back, it is too late in the
season to make use of farm yard composts of any kind, unless you use
it in the water with which you soak the plants after sundown, at
night. I keep a hogshead of water in a back corner of my garden, in
which I soak manure from the barn yard and stalls. I add a small
quantity of the compost to this water every time I add water in any
quantity. This keeps it always at about the same degree of
nourishment.”

“We have a few lily-of-the-valley plants along the side of the house
where the driveway comes in. But they do not seem to be thriving,”
said Mrs. James. “Can you tell me what to give them?”

“That’s because they are in the wrong location; now they are facing
the southern sun and are exposed to the rays as well as to all the air
that reaches the piazza. You must dig them up this fall, Mrs. James,
and place them in a shady northeast bed. Plant them on that northeast
side of the house where the stone wall sticks out like a buttress. I
never knew why that freak of an out-thrust was there. But _now_ I know
why it is there—to protect and shade your lily-of-the-valley plants.”

Norma and Mrs. James smiled at this interpretation, and Mrs. Tompkins
continued: “It would be a pity if Norma had to go back to the city
before she had had time to plant her bulbs for next year’s flowers.
The daffodils, tulips, crocuses, hyacinths and other bulbs, which need
fall or early winter planting, and the hardy vines and shrubs which
beautify a place so wonderfully, have to be planted in the fall when
the sap is all out of the wood.”

“Mrs. Tompkins, do you think I could ever grow such lovely flowers at
Green Hill, as you have back there in your gardens?” asked Norma,
yearningly.

“Why not? Perhaps better ones; for you have soil, right exposures and
finer surroundings than I ever had here at Four Corners. You must
understand that plants are living things and they really appreciate
their environment as much as we do. But the most important factor with
them is the warmth of creative love—not the mortal selfish kind, but
the divine eternal unselfish love. That is why you read of a scraggy
little plant half-dead in the pot, that began to revive and flourish
when cared for by a bed-ridden child whose days were passed in a
tenement cellar. That plant needed not the sunshine and air of nature,
as much as the beams of love and devotion and sacrifice from a human
soul.”

“When you visit us at Green Hill, Mrs. Tompkins, I am going to show
you an eye-sore that spreads all the way from the barn yard end of the
farm to the road that runs past the northeast corner of the property.
Perhaps you can suggest a remedy for that disgrace,” said Mrs. James
earnestly.

“There is no ill in Nature. It is what man makes of his opportunity. I
know the spot you speak of, and I often wished I had the right to go
in there and work my will in that depression.”

“Then it is yours to do as you will with it, only let Norma and me act
as your aides in doing it,” laughed Mrs. James.

“If we three consolidated and began alterations on the grounds of
Green Hill, few people would recognize the place in a year’s time,”
rejoined the hostess, smilingly.

“We’ll do it!” declared Norma eagerly.

“When you remember the rolling, artistic natural grades of the farm,
and the sheltered, as well as exposed areas for planting, is it not a
wonder the former tenant could not see the beauty in flower-growing?”
said Mrs. James musingly.

“Will you come over the first thing tomorrow morning?” asked Norma
anxiously.

The ladies laughed and Mrs. Tompkins replied: “I’ll try to drive over
when Farmer Ames goes back home.”

The other girls now joined the three people on the piazza and Hester
said: “We’re all going to join the scout patrol, Mother, and there
will be lots of fun after this, all summer through.”




                             CHAPTER III

                      AN AUTOMOBILE IS DONATED.


Norma left the basket of plants in the cool cellar for the night, but
she was up in the morning before anyone was astir in the house, in
order to get the plants in the ground before the sun rose high. She
was busily engaged in digging holes with a kitchen coal-shovel and
planting the roots carefully as Mrs. Tompkins had shown her when Mrs.
James came out and saw her at work.

“Ha! the early bird catches the flowers!” called Mrs. James, as she
ran across the grass and joined Norma at the garden.

“I planted the young sweet williams and the chicken feet, and the
pinks, all along that border, you see,” said Norma.

“Very good, but you did not entrench any manure in the soil, did you?”

“No, because I thought we would buy some bone dust as Mrs. Tompkins
said, and spread it over the top after the flowers are in the ground.”

Mrs. James advised and suggested, as Norma dug and planted
industriously, until she had all of the slips and plants that were
given her the evening before, in the ground. Then the two walked along
the grass-overgrown road that ran down to the stream. The old rail
fence on one side, that separated the house grounds from the pasture
lot, was not a beautiful thing to look at. And the strip of weed-grown
wild-grass that stretched between the fence and the badly kept road
made the spot still more uninteresting.

“Norma, since the first day I moved to the place, I’ve been eager to
reclaim this awful strip of land, so I asked Natalie to plant a few
rows of corn, or beans, or even potatoes all along here. But she
wouldn’t waste time over it, she said. Now let’s you and I beautify
it.”

“Nothing I’d like better, Jimmy. What would you suggest?”

“What would _you_ suggest!” countered Mrs. James.

“We could simply overwhelm that old rail fence with creepers.
Convolvulas, moon-flowers, clematis, and Virginia creepers, to say
nothing of trumpet vines, will glorify the old grey rails. What do you
think?”

“Splendid! And they all will grow even though it is July; the trumpet
vine and Virginia creeper may object but the others will make a good
showing in a few weeks, and before August we will have the old fence
hidden under a mass of foliage and flowers.”

“Their roots are not large, either, and they will not absorb the
nourishment from the soil which will be needed by the other plants we
will plant along there,” added Norma.

“I haven’t any idea of what to plant. The weeds have to all come out
first, and then we may find that the soil is so dry and poor that it
will need entrenching, as Mrs. Tompkins described, yesterday.”

“I’ve been thinking of it, while I was digging this morning, Jimmy,
and I thought a border of squatty old-fashioned plants such as tansy,
tarragon, rue and chervil, exactly like Mrs. Tompkins has about that
board fence that screens her gardens from the grocery yard, would look
fine. Then, between the border and the vines on the fence, we could
plant all kinds of geraniums, in red, white or pink. They will grow,
too, because they take root and will stand transplanting at any time
of the summer season. If we shelter them for the first few days, to
protect them from the hot rays of the sun, and keep the roots well
watered in early morning and in the evening, they ought to take hold
at once.”

“I’m sure they will, Norma, and I can see how pretty the effect of
such massed plants will be,” responded Mrs. James. “And way down
there, opposite Natalie’s vegetable gardens, we can add some more
hollyhocks for next year. Those few now growing there look so forlorn
and lonesome, trying to lean against the old fence.”

“We might plant some sun flowers right away—they will grow now, and
bloom before September. That will give the lonely hollyhocks a
_little_ company, and provide feasts for the birds, too.”

“We’ll try it!” declared Mrs. James, and then just as Rachel’s welcome
call for breakfast sounded over the lawn, and the two went towards the
house to wash before appearing at the table, Rachel gave a whoop and
stood waving her arms, as she gazed across the drying-lawn back of her
kitchen.

“Dem fowls ’scaped from the barn yard, Natalie, and is eating yor
greens as fas’ as they kin!” was the cook’s warning cry to the girls
within the house.

In less than a minute, four girls streamed out of the back door and
followed in the wake of the southern mammy, as she hurried down the
pathway to the vegetable gardens. Norma and Mrs. James trailed after
the four girls, but the trespassing hens and rooster were shooed away
from the forbidden ground by the time the last two in the procession
arrived on the scene.

“Now Janet, you’ve just _got_ to get some wire and keep those horrid
chickens in a yard,” wailed Natalie, when she saw the damage they had
done to the tender tops of her greens.

So, soon after the breakfast, Janet started for Four Corners to
purchase a roll of chicken wire for the runway. Belle and Frances
offered to go with her and help carry the roll back to the house.
Norma had too much to do with her flower gardening to think of leaving
the work, so she was hard at her self-appointed tasks when the Lowdens
drove up in their touring car and stopped in front of the house.

Mrs. James was indoors helping Rachel, when Mr. Lowden came along the
side road and stopped back of Norma. The first inkling she had of
anyone being near her was, when she heard a man’s amused voice asking
“How is your garden growing?”

Then Norma eagerly explained what she was doing, and all that Natalie
and Janet had already accomplished. That made her remember something.
“Oh, Janet had to go to buy chicken-wire to keep her chickens from
gobbling Natalie’s greens, so Frances and Belle went along to help her
carry the roll of wire back.”

“Where did they go for it?” asked Mr. Lowden.

“All the way to Four Corners, and a roll of wire ought to be rather
heavy before they finish this mile, don’t you think, Mr. Lowden?”
suggested Norma.

Frances’ father laughed, and said he would drive down the road and
help them with the burden. Then he went out to tell his wife and send
her in to the house to visit Mrs. James, while he went for the three
girls and the chicken wire.

The object of the Lowdens’s early visit was soon told. And they were
fully repaid for their offer to leave the touring car for the girls of
Green Hill Farm to use during the summer while the owners were
vacationing in the Rockies, by such happy faces and excited
declarations of how good the Lowdens were, etcetera.

When it came time for the Lowdens to start for the train that left
Four Corners at noon every day, Frances asked who of the girls would
like to drive with her to the station. Janet simply had to begin that
horrid chicken fence, and Natalie had to mend her broken plants and
smooth the scratched-up soil; Belle said someone ought to help poor
Janet, so Norma spoke up:

“I’d love to go with you, Frans, if you will leave me at Mrs. Tompkins
and call for us on your way back. Jimmy and I invited her to visit us
today and advise us with the landscaping about the house.”

“Sure! Jump in and I’ll drop you as we pass the store. You can have
Mrs. Tompkins all ready to come back with me when I stop for you,” was
Frances’s willing reply.

The trip was soon made, and Norma, with Mrs. Tompkins, were welcomed
by Mrs. James who was waiting on the side porch. Frances left the car
under the great oak that grew beside the corner of the driveway near
the front fence corner, and then ran to the barn yard to see what
Janet was doing. But she was soon drafted into service with Belle and
the three forgot the three floriculturists at the house, for a time.

Norma and Mrs. James escorted their visitor across the lawns to the
garden that had been planted that morning. “Oh, but you should have
placed inverted flower-pots over the little plants during the hot
sunshine, Norma,” said Mrs. Tompkins anxiously.

“I didn’t forget it, Mrs. Tompkins, but I had none. I hunted down in
the cellar, in hopes of finding some old ones, but I didn’t see a
one.”

“In that case, you should have made cornucopias of paper—brown paper
if you have it, or newspaper if there is no heavier kind on the place.
I’ll show you how to do it if you get me the paper,” offered the
visitor.

Rachel had several sheets of brown paper in the kitchen which she had
folded and saved for a need, and now Norma was handed it, while Rachel
felt that this gift privileged her to join the flower growers and
listen to their talk. But she soon wearied of it and started for the
barn yard to find if the company there was more interesting.

Mrs. Tompkins formed cones of the papers, some larger, some smaller,
according to the size of the plant to be covered, and when these cones
were placed in an inverted manner over the plants they were secured to
the ground by means of sticks or stones placed at the edge of the
paper.

The three then walked over to the strip of weeds that grew all along
the fence-line, and Norma explained what she had suggested in flowers,
for that strip. Mrs. Tompkins exchanged looks with Mrs. James, and
said, smilingly: “Our flower scout is improving wonderfully in the few
lessons she’s had.”

Shouts and laughter reaching them from the farm yard now attracted the
visitor’s attention, and she looked over in that direction. Norma
explained what was going on there: “Janet has to fence her chickens in
because they scratch up Nat’s garden and eat the tops from her
greens.”

Mrs. Tompkins laughed, but she said: “I wouldn’t want a garden of any
kind, if I had no living creatures about it to make it companionable.
To me, the bees, birds, pigeons and chickens, yes, even cats and dogs,
help make my gardens more lovable, for these domestic animals love
flowers and sweet-smelling things just the same as we do.”

“I never looked at it in that light,” murmured Norma.

Just then a shout for Mrs. James came ringing across the farm from the
direction of the barn yard, so that lady hastily excused herself and
ran down the lane to see what was wanted of her. She did not return to
Norma or Mrs. Tompkins, so they walked on and talked of their favorite
subject—flower culture.

“I have watched many times, and do you know, Norma, not a cat or dog,
or other creatures that wandered into my gardens, ever ruined a plant
for me! I have seen them scoop out a slight depression in the soft
soil to sleep in. But they always curled up in the little hole and
never disturbed the roots or vines. Then when they had had their nap
they would get up and walk silently away. I generally smoothed out the
spot and that was all the trouble it gave me.”

“Mrs. Tompkins, it must be your sublime faith that the creatures won’t
injure your flowers, that keeps them from doing any harm,” remarked
Norma. “Just like Daniel when he was in the lion’s den, you know. If
he had wavered and thought to himself: ‘Oh, I wonder if God really
will bother to keep the lions’ jaws closed’ maybe he wouldn’t have
come out of that experience quite so remarkably.”

Mrs. Tompkins laughed heartily at the comparison, and added: “I see
you know something of the Scriptures, Norma, so I can say, and you
will understand, the line that goes thus: ‘Faith is the substance of
things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’ I trust to my
faith in _good_ creatures and hope that they will respond to my loving
faith in them, and sure enough! the evidence of such things generally
appears to me.”

“Why can’t I encourage the same sort of faith in my ideals for a
garden, Mrs. Tompkins? I know a garden of flowers _must_ be good
because flowers are beautiful things created by God. So I can hold to
my faith until I see the evidence appear, eh?”

Mrs. Tompkins smiled and nodded, then added: “I want to say, that in
speaking of entertaining the little feathered angel birds, in my
flower garden, I also entertain them in beneficent ways unseen by me.
For bees and birds are necessary and valuable for your flowers. The
bees have panniers on their legs where they carry the pollen to the
hives, and many a tiny bit of pollen falls from these well-packed
panniers to fall into the heart of the blossom from which the bee is
gathering nectar. In this bit of pollen lies the secret of the
fertilization of other flowers.

“Can you picture my flower garden without the darling humming-birds
and bees that buzz and sing about it all day long?”

“I wish we could coax all the different birds in the county to live on
the farm. I’d love it!” declared Norma fervently.

“You can have them, if you will work to attract them,” was Mrs.
Tompkins’s reply.

“Jimmy said that she never saw so many different kinds of wild song
birds in any place, as she has seen since coming to Green Hill. She
told me that the only regret is that she has not built any bird houses
to offer them for homes.”

“Why lose any more time, then? Begin to fix up some bird houses at
once, and you will see what a difference they will make about your
place.”

“I thought we would have to send to the city and buy the houses,”
ventured Norma.

“Goodness, no! You can use empty starch boxes such as Si throws on the
woodpile, or cheese boxes, or even soap boxes, if they are not too
large and heavy. You can fix partitions inside, and then nail perches
on the outside under the entrances, then, last of all, you nail the
cover on the box again and paint it. If you want a real fancy house,
get some bark from a fallen tree and nail it on the outside with wire
brads.”

“I’ll get the girls to help me and we’ll do it at once,” promised
Norma eagerly. “You ask your husband to save some of those boxes for
us, will you, Mrs. Tompkins?”

“I certainly will! and now that I come to think of it, I saw Si empty
another cheese box this morning. That makes two you girls can have,
for I saved one a few weeks ago in case any of the neighbors asked me
for one to use for the birds.”

“How do you make that kind, Mrs. Tompkins?” asked Norma.

“For wrens you always cut a small hole so the sparrows can’t crawl in
and annoy them. A wren is touchy and won’t live in a nest where she is
annoyed by her enemy, the sparrow. A bluebird or a martin needs a
doorway a little larger than the wren’s. And the robin, or the blue
jay, or an oriole, needs the door still larger. A cat bird, and birds
of his size, needs the largest holes to their nests, of any of these
others.

“So you cut the hole according to the bird you expect to rent your
house to. The more modern improvements you offer a tenant the sooner
you rent the apartment. Most birds like a cozy home, with enough room
to build a good substantial nest therein, but not so large that it
will feel like poking in the corners every night to make sure there
are no tramps lurking about. The tenants like a safe perch upon which
they can rest when they alight before entering their home. And they
even like a little promenade deck in front of their house, so the
mother can exercise now and then, and still have safety and security
from cats, or fighting birds that disagree with the smaller ones. A
roof to shed water and shade the doorway is also a boon to the tenant;
then give them a fine bird-bath near the house, and feeding grounds
throughout the cold weather and you will be amazed at the beautiful
song birds you can secure for your houses.”

“Shall we nail the boxes to the tree trunks?” asked Norma.

“Better not, as cats can climb a tree and will frighten the birds even
if they do not kill them. I should swing the house by means of a stout
wire, from a bough, or nail the house to a strong slat and then nail
the slat to the main trunk, or large bough of the tree. If you place a
bird house under the eaves of your house, you can use the slat and
nail it securely to the ledge of the window, but keep the house out
towards the eaves where it will be far enough away from the window to
insure privacy to the birds.”

“Dear me, I wish Janet had thought of keeping bees. I will speak to
her about it, and if she doesn’t try it, I will do it myself. I want
bees, and birds, and butterflies, and everything, to enjoy my flowers
as much as I shall myself,” sighed Norma.

Mrs. Tompkins was too wise to suggest that Norma had better try and
grow a flower garden before she planned for the friendly visitors to
such a garden. But she said, _apropos_ of bees: “I’m looking for a
swarm of my bees almost any day, now. If you girls decide to start a
bee-hive, just send me word and I’ll keep the new swarm for you.”

“Oh, do! Even if the others won’t, I’m going to have them for my
garden flowers,” cried Norma eagerly.

At this moment, Frances called to Mrs. Tompkins: “I’ve got to rush to
the store for more wire nails and an extra hammer, for Janet’s work.
If you are ready to go home, I’ll drive you back.”

“Oh, must you go so soon?” asked Norma when Mrs. Tompkins nodded her
head at Frances.

“Soon! Why, child, I have been here more than an hour.”

“Well, then, I’ll jump in with you and get those boxes for the bird
houses,” declared Norma.

So the boxes were found and placed in the automobile while Frances was
waiting for the nails and hammer at Four Corners’ general store. When
Norma came out of the house, where she had gone at Mrs. Tompkins’s
invitation, she carried a bottle of tiny brown seeds and several
pasteboard boxes. One small pill box that had held pepsin pellets at
one time now had six precious nasturtium seeds in it. Another box held
a quantity of morning glory seeds, and still another had sun flower
seeds in it. A paper packet held sweet pea seeds and these Norma was
told to soak in warm water for quickest results after planting.

Frances was ready to start back to the farm just about the time when
Norma came out with the seeds in her hands. As she turned to wave a
hand at her generous friend, the latter said: “Remember to soak all
the seeds but the nasturtiums. They are better dry, when planted. And
plant them in the morning after they have soaked through the night.”

The tonneau was piled high with starch boxes, two round cheese boxes
and other small boxes that would make good bird houses, so Norma sat
in front beside Frances and chattered of all the birds they would soon
have about Green Hill, once the apartments were ready for their
occupancy.

When she got home, the boxes were piled beside the side door leading
to the cellar, and then Norma carried her seeds indoors to soak, as
Mrs. Tompkins had advised her to do. The small pill box containing the
six rare nasturtium seeds was left on the living room table while
Norma soaked the other seeds in cups filled with warm water. These
cups were placed under the steps of the porch to be out of harm’s way.

Norma now picked up the pill box and wondered where to keep it for the
night. It might be damp under the porch steps, and the seeds might be
spilled if the box was left on the living room table. So she decided
to hide it in the pantry closet where the china was kept. She would
put it on a shelf that she could easily reach, and shove it against
the side wall just inside the door that opened to the dining room. So
here the box was left.

Nothing more could be done that evening in the flower gardens, so
Norma joined the other girls when they came from the barn yard talking
about the fence they had built. As Janet had forgotten the pig’s extra
meal of milk that morning, the milk had soured, and Rachel had made
sour-milk pancakes of it for supper.

These were a favorite dish with all the girls, and Rachel mixed an
extra lot of batter. Smeared thickly with butter and with white clover
honey poured over them, they were so delicious that the hungry girls
did full justice to them. But Rachel still had so much batter left,
after the girls had finished supper, that she baked it into cakes for
herself. She, too, was overfond of sour-milk pancakes with pure honey
on them.

She ate and ate, until she could hardly breathe, and then she sighed
because the last pancake had to be put away on the pantry shelf. She
sought for a safe corner in which to hide it from Mrs. James’s
searching eye, for fear of being laughed at for saving it for her
breakfast.

In pushing the plate in the corner, Rachel found the pill box, and
always having enough curiosity to cause her useless trouble, she
carried the box to the kitchen window to see what it said on the
cover. Then she carried it back and placed it on the shelf.

The supper dishes were washed and put away where they belonged, but
Rachel found it hard to finish her tasks, because she was taken with
such indigestion pains. She drank a glass of hot water, hoping to
relieve her difficulty in breathing. But it got worse. She sat down
every few moments until a cramp had passed, and every time she began
again to do the dishes, she had to gasp for breath.

Suddenly she remembered the pill box that said: “Pepsin pills for
indigestion.”

“Dat means despepsy like what I got so bad,” muttered Rachel, going
for the box.

She brought it out to the daylight and laboriously read the
directions: “Take two pills, if attack is severe. If not relieved,
repeat dose in half hour.”

“Humph! I’se got it so bad, I reckon I’d better take all foh at one
time—like it say, repeat dose.” So Rachel took four of the six rare
seeds. She replaced the box on the shelf and in a short time the gas
disappeared and she felt better. She sat on the stoop for a time to
enjoy the cool breezes, and then finding she was feeling as well as
ever again, she walked out on the lawn to meet the girls who had spent
the evening at Solomon’s Seal Camp.

They told Rachel all about the stories of the stars and the legends of
the constellations that the scouts had told them, and so interested in
some of these myths was Rachel that she forgot to speak of the pills
she had taken from the box in the pantry.

Early before breakfast the next morning, Norma and Mrs. James were
planting the seeds which had been soaked through the night. They
planted them where the soil was richest, and planned to dig up the
tiny shoots when they came up, and transplant them over by the fence
which would be all ready for the vines by that time.

“Now I’ll go and get the wonderful nasturtium seeds, Jimmy,” said
Norma, when the swollen wet seeds were all planted.

She ran to the pantry and got the box. She ran out again with it in
her hand and did not open it until she stopped in front of Mrs. James.
Then she carefully lifted the cover from the box to show her companion
the six queer shrivelled seeds that would bring forth such beauty. To
her amazement she saw but two.

“I know Mrs. Tompkins gave me six!” she exclaimed.

“You didn’t drop any on your way over here, did you?”

“No, I never removed the lid until I got here.”

“That’s very strange! I wonder if there are any field mice in the
house. I’ve heard they love nasturtium seeds,” said Mrs. James.

“Jimmy, if a mouse got the seeds, wouldn’t the cover be off, or a hole
eaten into the box?”

“Yes, of course it would! And the cover was on when you picked it up?”

“It was on exactly as I left it last night, and just as I showed it to
you this minute.”

It was a mystery, but a sad one for Norma as she had been so proud of
those six Oriental nasturtium seeds. The main subject of conversation
at the breakfast table that morning was the strange disappearance of
four seeds from the pill box. Rachel brought in another plate of toast
while Norma described minutely the place on the shelf where she had
hidden the box the night before.

Rachel thumped the plate on the table and dropped into an empty arm
chair. Her eyes bulged and her mouth sagged open in dismay. Finally
she gasped in awe-struck tones:

“Mis’ James, what yoh think will happen to me ef I swallowed dem foh
pills?”

“What four pills, Rachel?” was the puzzled reply.

“Why dem foh seed pills in dat dyspepsy box. I got such cramps las’
night, I had to take somefin and dat was all I could fin’.”

The girls almost had hysterics from laughing at her confession, and
Janet managed to say: “Norma will have to pour water down your throat
every day before sun-up, and every evening after sunset, Rachel, to
make the vine grow luxuriantly.”

“Janet—yoh don reely mean dat, does yoh?” was Rachel’s dread question.

“Sure, Rachel! You’ll have the finest Oriental vine coming out of your
mouth in a few days that Norma ever saw!”

But Mrs. James hushed Janet’s foolish teasing and assured Rachel that
she would feel no ill effects at all, from the wrong dose of seeds.




                              CHAPTER IV

                        BUILDING BIRD HOUSES.


The day Norma discovered where her four precious seeds had gone was
the day Sambo arrived at Green Hill, and just before he made his
appearance, the dog, Grip, was found on the high road and brought home
to the farm to live. Soon after his introduction to Mrs. James, the
dog saw his rightful master coming in at the gate and welcomed him as
only a lost dog can welcome a master found.

Norma spent most of her spare time that day in weeding the strip of
garden alongside the old rail fence. Sam was ordered to help in this
work after dinner, and Mrs. James came out to dig up roots and snags
which would not come out by hand-pulling. The entire strip, running
from the great oak tree near the front gate, down to the old
hollyhocks that grew opposite Natalie’s corn field, was cleared of
weeds and the ground was dug up and ready to be well mixed with
manure.

As the girls were going in the automobile, the next day, to buy a cow,
Sam was told to use the manure left near the vegetable gardens, to
spade under in the soil alongside the rail fence. The cow was
purchased and Janet also bought a little calf, a deed which she felt
was reckless because of her meager finances since she began stock
farming. But Susy, the calf, was too cute to leave behind, so she was
to be brought the same time the cow was delivered at the farm.

The party got back to the house just before two o’clock, but Rachel
had not expected them any sooner, so the dinner was just ready when
the car drove in at the gate and stopped by the side porch.

Rachel bustled out of the side door, consumed with curiosity. “Did
you-all git a cow?” she asked almost before the car had stopped.

“Not only a fine cow, Rachel, but a darling calf, too!” exclaimed
Janet, the pride of proprietorship sounding in her voice.

“I jus’ finished dinneh, so you-all come right in and eat,” said
Rachel, anxious over her charges because they had gone long past the
usual dining hour with nothing to eat.

While the autoists washed and brushed up before sitting down at the
table, Rachel stood talking to Norma about the garden. “Sam done gone
and futilised dat soil so fine dat you kin grow any t’ing in it, now.
When you done dinneh you just go and see how smood it looks.”

“That’s good, Rachel, because I found some lovely bushes growing down
the road a bit that I want to dig up and plant along that fence line.
If we begin keeping bees, we will need plenty of blossoms all summer
through, and these bushes will provide flowers now, and berries later,
for the birds.”

While the girls were getting ready for dinner, the girl scouts from
camp could be heard laughing and talking eagerly as they approached
the house. In a few moments, not only the camping scouts, but Nancy
Sherman, Hester Tompkins and Dorothy Ames, with them, came up the
porch steps and greeted the returned tourists.

“We came to see if you found a cow?” was the general question.

Then it became necessary to describe every lap of the journey much to
the delighted interest of all the audience. When they heard the
corporation cow would arrive Saturday morning, they all cheered
lustily, but Mrs. James said seriously:

“You haven’t any habitable shed for the cow, nor for the calf, to go
in. If I were you girls I would commence without delay and construct a
decent cow-shed for Susy, and partitioning off a stall in the barn as
a home for the cow.”

This was decided upon after discussing the pros and cons of a cowshed
or a first class barn stall for a cow. The latter choice won because
it was much easier to partition off a stall than to build an entirely
new shed and fence in a yard.

It seemed that once Janet started adding to the stockyard creatures,
she lost all count of money and squandered what allowances might come
to her in the next two months, or three. Mr. Ames had offered to trust
her for payment, and that was her undoing, for she not only bought the
twenty goslings the day she exchanged the old Plymouth Rock hen for
the Rhode Island Reds, but she also chose a few guinea hens, five
pairs of pigeons, and spoke for half a dozen ducks.

Norma had not had any time to devote to her flower beds that day,
because she wished to help build the home for Sue, but when the girls
trooped back to the house, Miss Mason saw the heap of boxes lying near
the cellar door.

“What are all those for?” asked she, of anyone who would answer.

“Bird houses. Mrs. Tompkins says we ought to make them at once and get
them up if we hope to coax any birds to our farm,” explained Norma.

“Good idea! Do any of you girls know how to build one?” asked the
Captain.

“I never made one, but Mrs. Tompkins told me just how to do it. She
says flowers need birds and bees about to keep them healthy,” returned
Norma.

“She’s right, too, because birds are a gardener’s right-hand helper in
catching destructive insects on the plants. If Natalie had more birds
about the farm, she wouldn’t have any potato bugs on her vines,”
remarked Mrs. James.

“Well, I’m going to clean all those beetles off as soon as I get
time,” said Natalie, in justification of her procrastination.

“Now that we all whetted an appetite for sawing and hammering, what do
you girls say to our working on the bird houses until it is time to go
back to camp?” asked Miss Mason.

This suggestion met with approval from all, and soon there was a
medley of sounds—laughing, talking, hammering, sawing and scuffling of
feet on the stone floor of the cellar, for that is where the bird
boxes were being constructed. Mrs. James insisted that the scouts from
camp remain to sup with them and finish the work on the bird houses
afterward.

Of course, they were pleased at the invitation—even though it was
proper to refuse to stay, in a tone that meant they would, if the
invitation was repeated. So they all remained to enjoy some of
Rachel’s famous supper dishes, and then completed the bird houses that
evening before going back to camp.

Miss Mason and Mrs. James superintended the carpentry and kept up a
pleasant fire of good suggestions, at the same time.

“I’m delighted that we will have enough bird houses to try to induce
some of the lovely birds I have seen about here to come and nest in
our trees, but I think we ought to provide a bird bath on the lawn
where the newcomers can drink and bathe without going down to the
stream. I fear they may be enticed to stay away, if they compare
conveniences with our environment and down by the stream,” said Mrs.
James.

“It ought to be an easy matter to build a nice concrete bird-bath,”
said Miss Mason.

“I’d like to experiment on one, after we finish these houses and get
them properly placed,” said Mrs. James.

“Well, I’ll help you make one, if you say so, although I am almost as
ignorant of how to mix concrete as this box. Still, we can use our
intelligence, you know,” laughed the Captain.

“I know what to do!” exclaimed Norma, now. “I’ll go and ask Mrs.
Tompkins in the morning. _She’ll_ know and tell us what to do.”

Mrs. James and the house scouts laughed, and the former said: “Norma
runs to her Oracle for everything, now.”

“We might experiment with a feeding station, too, if you want to
attract and hold the birds about the house until they get acclimated
to their new quarters. Then they will remain late into the fall and
return early in the spring,” was Miss Mason’s suggestion.

“I wonder what kind of birds we can coax to our houses?” queried
Natalie, boring a hole in one of the boxes with an augur.

“I’ve seen wrens, bluebirds, robins, thrashers, cat birds, orioles and
many not so familiar, flying about the farm, so that ought to be a
fair idea of the kind we may hope to house very soon,” replied Mrs.
James.

“_One_ bird we can depend on coming and trying to crowd out all the
others,” giggled Natalie.

“Yes, the English sparrow,” agreed Janet. “I wish we could raise the
rent on them, or do some other restrictive act that would warn them
from the premises.”

“The only way I know of is to keep the doors of the nests small enough
for a wren and too small for a sparrow. All the other birds will fight
off the sparrows, but the wren won’t—they just move away,” explained
Mrs. James.

“Look at this hole, is it about the right size, Jimmy?” asked Norma as
she finished the boring in the wood.

“Speaking of the wren, I want to tell you a little story of one I
found nesting under the eaves of my brother’s country house. Its nest
was dangerously near the rose trellis where a cat could climb up and
get it, but it wanted to be near the people in the house, and that was
the only available spot where a nest would perch. So we built a
special corner bracket and shelf for it, and when Jenny laid her eggs
we very gently and carefully moved the nest to a safe place, before
she had really started brooding over them. We knew she would not
abandon the eggs because of the moving, but we felt much easier when
we realized she was safe.”

“I remember some wrens who always built their nests as close to our
back doors as they could get without actually lodging right on the
doorstep,” laughed Mrs. James.

“What dear little things they are!” sighed Norma tenderly.

This remark attracted several girls’ attention to Norma and then they
stopped their own work to go and see what she was making.

“Well! of all things—just look at Norma’s palace!” exclaimed Janet
admiringly.

That brought the other girls around her and she had to explain just
what she was doing with the cheese box. “I am following Mrs.
Tompkins’s suggestions and plans for my bird house. You see I divided
the inside of the box into five flats, and at each apartment I bored a
hole. Because they are of different sizes, I hope to have different
birds as tenants in it.

“When the partitions were fastened inside, I nailed the cover on the
cheese box again. The two large barrel covers that Mrs. Tompkins gave
me make the bottom and roof. Because the barrel head is larger than
the cheese box, it provides a nice little balcony all around the
house. And the other head that is on top for a roof, projects far
enough over the cheese box to keep the rain from driving in at the
open doors of the apartments.”

“But, Norma, how are you going to keep the water from coming through
that flat roof and soaking the birds inside the box?” asked Janet.

“You just wait! I found a fine roof for my house, this afternoon, but
I am not ready, yet, to roof the building. I want to nail some
brackets on the bottom so the house can be nailed to a pole, then I
will roof it and paint it green with white trimmings.”

Accordingly, Norma finished the house and then got out a basket filled
with straw. An upright stick was fastened in the center of the top of
the house and to this a wire netting was tacked, so that the edges
overlapped the eaves of the roof, and the top fitted close to the
upright. Upon this wire net Norma wove her thatched roof, which, when
finished, looked very attractive and rustic.

“It looks great but it is going to be a dreadful work to fasten it in
a tree, because it is so big and bulky,” said Janet.

“I’m not going to place it in a tree. It is going to be mounted on an
old clothes pole that Rachel never uses. I’ve chosen the site of the
house already,” laughed Norma.

“And you said you were going to paint it?” asked Natalie.

“Yes, I bought a can of green paint and a smaller one of white lead at
the store yesterday. When it is on the pole I am going to paint the
house and the pole, too.”

Norma then went to inspect the work of her companions. She found they
had divided the starch boxes into four rooms, a room for each nest.
But each opening was so placed that no bird need meet his neighbor, in
coming to or going from his home. Under each door was a perch, or
platform, for the birds to alight upon before entering the door of
their house. Some of these perches were made by boring a tiny hole
under the doorway and sticking a meat skewer firmly in. When the
inside work was completed, the cover was shoved onto the starch boxes
and nailed fast. A slat was attached to the bottom so the house could
be nailed to a tree trunk and yet be out of reach of any prowling cat.

“I’m curious to know who will draw that other cheese box as their
lot,” said Belle, as she added the finishing touches to her soap-box
apartment house.

“Well, if no one else applies for it, I shall attach it for my own
pleasure,” said Mrs. James. “But I warn you girls now—I propose
building a modern flat-house with every conceivable convenience in it
for my tenants. They will have sleeping porches, hot water day and
night, elevator service, telephones, parquet floors—in fact,
everything one looks for in a first-class modern apartment. So don’t
feel jealous when you find the birds flock to rent my rooms, because
you must remember my investment of labor will be twice as heavy as
yours, and I deserve having the best tenants apply for my flats.”

The girls giggled at Mrs. James’s explanation, and Janet said: “What
will you do if a sparrow or a blue jay applies for rooms?”

“I’ll ask him for references. If he can’t produce high-class
references from other landlords, I’ll have none of him.”

The girls laughed at the reply, and Janet retorted: “The day of rent
profiteers is past. You’ll be hauled into Court if you ask high
rents.”

“Then I’ll fill my flats on a co-operative plan. That is best, anyway,
I think. I will provide the house, and the tenants will provide the
harmony,” said Mrs. James, smiling at her own foolishness.

“You’re too lenient with your tenants, Jimmy,” remonstrated Norma. “If
any applicant asks me what form of rent my co-operative plan demands,
I’ll say the tenant has to pay me in helping me keep my plants clear
of insects.”

“You two have so much to say I can’t get in a word. Now keep quiet,
and let us have a word to say,” begged Frances.

“What do you want to talk about?” laughed Belle.

“Here’s my bird house. Six flats made out of a soap box. Where shall I
secure it to a tree?” asked Frances.

“Did you intend the flats for bluebirds or martins? The openings are
too large for the wrens,” said the Captain.

“Every one else seemed anxious to house a wren so I thought I would
try for another kind of bird. It’s all the same to me, who rents the
place, as long as they behave and pay their rent in advance,”
explained Frances.

“What are your prices? You haven’t any insects to keep from the
plants,” laughed Miss Mason.

“A song to wake me, a song when I have the blues, and a song at
eventide,” said Frances.

“You’ll get it, all right. Never fear that your house will be vacant
on those terms,” remarked Janet.

“I would like one of those soap box houses to be placed near the end
of the farm yard, girls, just where the little brook runs past the old
barn. I have a reason for this, which I will tell you of another day.
If we had two or three houses in that vicinity it would be better than
one,” said Mrs. James.

“I saw a thrasher in a brush heap over by that creek, today, while we
were working in the barn yard,” said Janet now.

“Then we ought to place a house for him in that location,” rejoined
Mrs. James.

“Isn’t it too late in the season for the birds to build in our
houses?” asked Belle. “I thought birds mated and nested in the
springtime.”

“They do, but storms, winds and other accidents are always breaking
down nests so that the birds have to seek new quarters. These
wanderers we are sure to attract to our houses. Besides these, the
tree swallows, martins and chickadees are generally on the lookout for
better homes than they have built. They will move, at any time, during
the summer season.”

Finally the boxes were all turned into bird houses of different styles
and workmanship, but all looked substantial and serviceable enough to
suit any particular bird house hunter. Some of the boxes were covered
with the bark from an old tree trunk; others had copied Norma’s plan
of thatching a roof; and some were panelled and balconied, until they
looked very elaborate, indeed.

“Well, we can’t do any more tonight, girls. Tomorrow morning, if
you’ll come up after breakfast, we will place the bird houses wherever
you choose,” said Mrs. James.

So good nights were said and the scouts went down the hill towards
camp, while the house girls went slowly upstairs to bed.




                              CHAPTER V

                    MIGNONETTE AND CHRYSANTHEMUM.


Norma was out-of-doors before the others, the morning after completing
the bird houses and selected suitable spots for the two large houses
to be placed. The smaller ones belonged exclusively to the scouts and
their locations would have to be decided upon by them.

Sam came from the kitchen door, yawning and stretching as he came.
When he found Norma already up and busy, going about the back yard, he
hurried over to see if he could help in any way.

“Yes, you can, Sam. I made that lovely bird house last night but I
need you to saw off that old clothes pole, square across the top, so
we can nail the house on it and brace it firmly with a few wooden
supports from underneath. Can you cut it across squarely?”

“Sure, ’cause dat ain’t nuttin’ to do!” declared Sam, going for the
hammer and saw.

Norma carried out the short ladder and placed it against the post, and
when Sam came with the tools, he climbed up to the second from the top
rung and began to look sideways at the top of the pole, while
squinting scientifically to measure its diameter.

Norma watched patiently for a few moments, then she said: “Why, Sam!
You don’t have to do any measuring or marking to get your right line.
Just saw through that cove that runs around the post where the fancy
acorn top begins. That’s true enough to guide anyone.”

“Dat’s so, Norma! I didn’t never think of dat way,” admitted Sam,
grinning at his lack of judgment.

Norma handed him the saw and Sam began to work it across the post. He
had to lift his right arm even with his eyes, to saw in the groove
made by the turning mill when the post was made, and this made the
work the harder for him.

Norma stood below watching as the saw began to bite into the old wood.
Sam sawed and sawed, and was halfway through the pole when Norma went
to the other side to see how much more he had to do.

“Oh, Sam! You’re way off the groove on this side of the post!”
exclaimed she anxiously.

“It look straight enough from dis side,” argued Sam.

“Get down and look for yourself! Your saw runs up more than an inch on
the back of the post.”

So Sam climbed down and joined Norma at the back of the pole. He had
left his saw sticking in the cleft so he could better judge where his
mistake was being made. He found matters as Norma had said, but he
couldn’t see what did it. He scratched his head for an intelligent
explanation to shine forth, but none came.

“I tell you what I got to do!” he declared, going over and taking the
ladder from that side and moving it to the side where the cleft ran an
inch above the groove. “I got’ta saw from dis side, now—see?”

He now began sawing the post from “this side,” as he said, and again
he sawed and sawed, with might and main, until his face was streaming
and his breath came in short gasps with the effort.

Norma waited and when he was almost halfway through from “this side”
she went back to the first side to see if he was almost meeting the
first cleft.

“Oh, Sam! Now you’ve gone and sawed an inch above the _old_ line and
they’ll never meet!” cried Norma anxiously.

Again Sam got down and walked around to eye his work from Norma’s
position, and then he scratched his head again. This time he frowned
heavily at the problem to be solved.

“Now, I don’t see how dat saw got so high when I was so careful to
keep it going in the groove around the post,” said he.

“Well, I don’t see, either, especially as I _asked_ you to saw it
_square_ across, before you started,” complained Norma.

“I know you did, but askin’ ain’t cuttin’, you see.”

“It looks so simple, Sam—just saw along that little gutter made in the
pole! That would bring the top off and leave the post nice and flat on
top. As it now is, the top won’t come off and no bird house will sit
on a slant.”

“It _do_ look simple, Norma, I’ll tell the worl’, but it can’t be so
simple as it looks, or I could do it!” declared Sam.

Mrs. James joined them by this time, and wanted to know what was
wrong. Why did Sam seem so troubled so early in the day?

The problem was explained but Norma admitted that they found no
solution for it. Mrs. James told Sam to get up on the ladder again and
show her how he had sawed.

Sam demonstrated his recent method of sawing, and Mrs. James began
laughing. Norma frowned at her uncalled-for mirth, and Sam climbed
from the ladder and stood gazing at her for an explanation.

“Don’t you see what you have done to cause the saw to run uphill at
the back of the post?”

“No, I don’t! I tried hard to cut in the groove.”

“Well, first place, you stood below the line you had to cut through.
You had to lift your arm above your shoulder, and that in itself would
tend to draw the saw downward in front, because your arm works back
and forth and does not keep its same position of height. It generally
falls downward as the arm works backward—watch me, and you will see.”
Then Mrs. James sawed slowly and showed both Sam and Norma how easy
and unconsciously the tendency was to have the arm drop from its level
as it worked backward.

“Another thing is, your saw cut in the groove at the front where you
faced it, but the tough chestnut wood turned the thin edge of the saw
upward because of the slight downward tendency of your arm, as you
drew the elbow back and forth. That was enough to start the saw
glancing upward, and when you reached the center of the pole, you
found you were fully an inch out of the way.

“Then you started to saw on this side of the post, but you made the
same mistake as before. Had you stood upon the top rung of the ladder,
or used a higher ladder so you could saw the knob of the pole from a
stand even with your waist line, you would have found it much easier
to cut.”

“Well, now it’s all crooked, what can we do?” asked Norma.

“Sam can bring out the high step-ladder that we used to rescue Natalie
from the cherry tree, and stand on that. Then he can stand on a step
so he will be _above_ the groove he has to cut. He can start sawing
from a third side of the pole, so the other two clefts will not
interfere with his straight across cut.”

Sam went for the step-ladder and Mrs. James waited to see that he was
properly started on the work this time, then she went into breakfast.

The girls were talking over the council meeting Miss Mason had invited
them to attend that morning, and Frances said she would drive to Four
Corners, directly after breakfast, to ask the three girls, and bring
them back to go with the house scouts.

“At the same time, ask Mrs. Tompkins if she can come, too, as we want
her to give us a little talk on flowers, bees and birds,” said Mrs.
James.

“Oh, can I go with you, Frans?” asked Norma eagerly when she heard her
friend was invited to join the meeting at camp.

“Of course, if you are ready when I am. I don’t want to wait around
for nothing, while you plant a few more dry sticks in the garden,”
giggled Frances, winking at the other girls.

But Norma was ready before Frances this time, and had time to direct
Sam how to nail the cheese box bird house on the post. The top was
squared to suit and the house had been brought from the cellar to try
on top of the post and see how it looked.

“You can go with Frances, Norma, and we’ll see that the house goes up
all right,” promised Mrs. James when she saw the anxiety expressed by
Norma.

When they neared Four Corners, Norma said to Frances: “You can drop me
at the store so I can see Mrs. Tompkins while you go for Dot Ames and
Nancy Sherman. Then you can pick us up on your way back.”

It was not yet nine o’clock and Mrs. Tompkins was in her garden
attending to the early duties of a systematic florist, when Norma ran
out and joined her. She had no difficulty in winning Mrs. Tompkins’
consent to attend a council meeting and tell the scouts some things
about flowers and birds and bees. Then Norma told her about the fine
bird house she had made of the cheese box and how Sam tried to square
off the old clothes pole.

Mrs. Tompkins laughed at the description Norma gave and then said:
“It’s too bad the houses were not up early in the spring. You’d have
them full of song birds now. But they’ll be ready for next year,
anyway.”

“Will the birds find enough to eat around the house and gardens,
without flying too far away for food?” asked Norma anxiously.

“They will if you plant the right kind of growing things. Natalie, for
instance, must plant some grain along the fence line on the meadow
side. That will not interfere with any flowers you have there.”

“Mrs. James and I were planning about that ugly fence and the strip of
garden, just yesterday. We have it all cleared out and manured, ready
to use now.”

“What did you plan to use there?” asked Mrs. Tompkins.

“We are going to plant the vines as soon as they come up from the
seeds you gave me, all along the fence line. Then I want the
old-fashioned border plants all along the edge of the ground where the
drive joins it, and in the center of the long bed we expected to plant
geraniums. All geraniums—to make it look like something that was meant
to be.”

“But you did not plan to plant them all the way from the road to the
woodland, did you?” was Mrs. Tompkins’s amazed question.

“Oh, no! only from the street down to the line where the vegetable
garden begins. From there on to the stream, we thought we could plant
sunflowers, hollyhocks, dahlias and other tall-growing flowers.”

“Well, now listen to what I would do with that strip, if it was mine:

“I’d get Sam to work at the digging, while you girls can help with the
packing of the earth about the roots, and the careful lifting and
removal of the trees and shrubs growing in your woodland. Then watch
while they are being wheeled up to the garden strip where a deep hole
has been made ready to receive them—one by one.

“Start with a young mulberry tree, if possible, for that fruit is the
most attractive for birds of all kinds. And bees like to hover about
mulberry blossoms, too, and get their nectar there. In my opinion, a
mulberry tree is a necessity if one wants to keep birds and bees
happy.

“Besides the mulberry tree—or three or four of them, if you can find
them of a size easy to remove from the woods—take the elderberry
bushes, the choke-cherry, dogwood trees, wild black cherry and other
kinds that not only blossom profusely but bear fruit that the birds
like.

“All these trees and shrubs or bushes can be planted at intervals
along that garden strip by the fence. Then, in between those high
bushes and trees, you can plant the geraniums. The low border flowers
can run all along without a break and the vines at the back where the
old fence is, can also cover that, but your gay geraniums will look
all the gayer and prettier for having the green bushes and trees break
the monotonous streak of color.”

“That’s splendid advice, Mrs. Tompkins, and I only hope we can find
such trees and bushes.”

“That is the easiest part of the work, Norma, because the woodland
down by the stream, is full of just such berry bushes and fruit trees.
That is one reason the woods, there, is so full of wild song birds.
And they will move up nearer the house if they find plenty of food and
good lodgings.”

“Dear me! I wish to goodness we had been on the farm in time to do all
this work before the birds came from the South!” sighed Norma.

“It will be ready for them next year, at least. Even if these bushes
and trees die off, you can easily replace them with others in the late
fall or early spring. To group them judiciously and know where they
belong, is an important work that can be done now while they are in
full leaf and will show how they look.”

“It seems a pity to transplant the poor things just to show us how
they look, and then have them die,” remarked Norma.

“If the soil about the roots is carefully dug and packed on the
outside with straw or strips of burlap to keep it from falling off,
there is no reason why the bushes and trees should fade or die. The
main thing to do is to keep their native soil about the roots, and to
disturb the roots as little as possible. This can be done by digging a
wide enough circle about the trunk, and by having a large enough hole
where it is to go in. I think it is a waste of money to buy fancy
shrubs and decorative bushes, or trees, for the lawn or garden,
because one can find any kind one needs right in the woods.”

“The reason I mentioned sun flowers along the fence-line, Mrs.
Tompkins, I knew the birds loved to eat their seeds, and they grow
rapidly in any soil without any attention, too.”

“Yes, sun flowers are magnets for the birds, but so are bitter sweet
and clematis, and you know how lovely they would look on a trellis or
growing up the side porch. You can find bitter sweet along the roads
in the countryside, and wild clematis, too. Then you can buy a trumpet
vine, and honeysuckle and Virginia creepers from a florist and have
them well grown by next year. If I were in Janet’s place, I’d hide the
ugly old barn and sheds with rows of sun flowers and castor oil bean
plants. Then I’d train all sorts of vines up the sides of the
buildings until the place was a thing of beauty instead of what it is
today.”

“I’ll tell Janet what you said and let her come and take a few lessons
from you, as I am doing,” laughed Norma.

“If it’s birds you girls want to coax to live about the house, you
can’t have too many fruit or seed-bearing plants around.”

“It’s a pity the geraniums have no sweet perfume because it seems a
waste of space to plant them just for their looks,” said Norma, as
Mrs. Tompkins went to the mirror to pin on her hat.

“You’ll find anyone who harbors envy is seldom sweet or lovable, and
geraniums mean ‘envy’ in the directory of flowers.”

“Really! I never knew that flowers meant anything excepting perfume
and beauty,” exclaimed Norma, deeply interested.

“Oh, yes! Every flower has a meaning and many of them have very
interesting legends connected with their history.”

“Oh, if you would tell us some of those legends at the scout council
today how we would appreciate it!”

“I will, if you wish it. I will not only give the scouts a talk on
flowers, but I will add a dessert after the heavy meal, to please the
guests who will sit about my table of flowers,” laughed Mrs. Tompkins.
“But they must agree not to feel offended if I tell them their flower
for their natal day and give its meaning. It may not always please,
you know.”

“How did you learn all these things, Mrs. Tompkins?”

Norma’s hostess laughed. “You did not think that I could spend so many
years with my flowers without finding out some of the stories that
belong to them, did you? One who grows vegetables tries to discover
all that can be said about them; and a bird fancier, or one who
studies forestry, or bees, or insects, learns their history first; the
legends and tales that belong to almost everything on earth, are read
or heard, and found interesting to the fancier.”

“If there is a flower for every natal day, tell me what mine is?” said
Norma eagerly, mentioning the date of her birth.

“Yours is the mignonette and it means ‘loveliness.’ Not because of the
beauty of form or coloring, but because of its character and
qualities. It is a constant bloomer and its perfume is so freely and
generously sent forth that all may inhale and enjoy.

“In the Orient where this little flower originally came from, it is
called ‘resada’ because the Orientals claim that if one stoops to
inhale its fragrance as it grows upon its lowly stem it has the power
to soothe any pain and drive away most sorrows.

“I never judge loveliness from looks, Norma, but from qualities. I
know some folks who are so homely that the first time I met them I was
sorry for them. But I soon grew to appreciate the wonderful
characteristics which made them quite lovely to me. And I also have
met people quite the reverse of this desirable kind.”

“What is your natal flower, Mrs. Tompkins?” questioned Norma.

Mrs. Tompkins glanced at a large garden of healthy green plants, which
as yet were merely stems and foliage. Then she said sadly: “Before I
lost my boy, I used to take the greatest pleasure and pride in my
chrysanthemums, because we worked together and produced some
remarkable specimen. Robert and I won several prizes in the New York
Flower Show with our unusual chrysanthemums. But now, I just let them
grow as I do the rest of the flowers. No one takes the joy and
pleasure in my gardens since Robert was killed.”

Norma felt the moisture coming into her eyes for this sad mother, for
she had heard from Hester, how her only brother had met his death in
France during the first year of America’s war with Germany. So she
could say nothing, but she waited patiently.

“I was born in October, the month of the chrysanthemum. And I was
named Chrystine, too. I always admired the lovely large Oriental
flowers, even before I knew they were my birth flowers. Then, when I
succeeded with so many other flowers, I began to try to succeed with
the imperial flowers of China. You know, do you not, that the
chrysanthemum is a native of China, and not of Japan, as so many
people believe?”

“No, I did not know. I, too, thought it was a Japanese native flower,”
answered Norma.

“In the year 246 B. C. China was ruled by a very cruel Emperor who
feared nothing but death. But he was in such constant dread of the
spectre that he ordered his physicians to spare no cost and time or
lives to search for the elixir of life which he had been told was kept
in a secret place.

“A clever young physician, who bore the Emperor no love, perfected a
scheme, and then called at the palace. He told the Emperor that a rare
flower grew on an island far out at sea, but no one had ever been able
to gather it, as it faded instantly and died, if any hand polluted by
any form of sin, touched it or its plant.

“Then the young man said he would suggest that a number of pure young
men and as many virgins be found and ordered to accompany him in a
boat to sail for this island. There the purest of them all would be
made to gather this flower and bring it to the Emperor who would then
live forever.

“The physician was fitted out with a vessel and everything needed for
a long voyage and the maidens and young men were found to go with him.
Then the foolish Emperor sighed and waited eagerly for the flower of
life. But nothing was heard of the party for a long time, then when
the Emperor was dead, the news reached China that the voyagers reached
Japan safely and colonized a state with their pure and healthy young
people. This is why the Japanese claim they come of finer stock and
more intelligent natures than other ancient races of the world.”

“How interesting it is,” ventured Norma, in a whisper so as not to
distract the speaker. “And was that flower the chrysanthemum?”

“Yes, but that is not the legend I meant to tell you when I began. The
pink chrysanthemum means ‘Love’; the white one means ‘Truth’; and the
yellow one means ‘Life’—and all three of them, Love, Truth and Life,
mean Robert to me now, because they stand for the second coming of
Christ, and at that resurrection all who have died in the Lord shall
live in Him again, also. But to understand why this is so, I must tell
you the story of the flower.

“You probably know that the twenty-fifth of December is not really the
birthday of Jesus, but that the real date is some time in the latter
part of October. The December date was set apart by the Romans at the
revision of our present Calendar. So the chrysanthemum was the natal
flower of our Lord.

“When the Wise Men sought for the young child, they saw a great golden
star shining in the sky, and this they followed until they came to
Bethlehem of Judea. It had led them over rugged hills and through
shadowy vales, and finally descended before their eyes to rest upon
the lintel of the stable where the Babe was born.

“As the Wise Men stooped to enter the door, the starry flower fell
into the hand of the first one to pass within. When the wondering man
saw that the blossom was of pure gold and gave forth such a marvelous
perfume, he knew it to be from heaven. So he gave it into the tiny
hand of the Prince of Peace.

“The Child held the beautiful blossom aloft as if it was a sceptre,
then slowly the petals unfolded and the heavenly star bowed low before
the King of Kings. And to this day you will see the petals of the
golden chrysanthemum curl meekly, as they bowed that night before the
Saviour.

“But a sigh from the Virgin suddenly wafted the petals away and they
found their places in the midnight sky again. There they radiated
brightness and glory upon all the world and all who would could follow
the pointing of the petals and seek and find the Christ. And so to
this day the shining golden petals in the night sky point the way to
their Lord and King, Christ Jesus.”

“Oh, what a beautiful story, Mrs. Tompkins! I wish you would tell that
legend to the scouts.”

“I couldn’t my dear child. I will tell them others, but not this one,
as I feel a reverence for all that belongs to Christ, since Robert
rose from our sight. I told you because I feel there is the same
affinity between you and me as there was between Robert and me, linked
together because of our mutual love for flowers.”

At this moment, the merry shouts of the girls in the car, interrupted
further conversation and Mrs. Tompkins started for the door. But Norma
caught her hand and whispered: “I’ll not call you Mrs. Tompkins,
hereafter—you shall be chrysanthemum to me, because you truly are a
shining light in the firmament.”

The woman with the thin refined face, and grey hair held both soft
girlish hands in her hardened ones and smiled sadly: “And you shall be
Mignon for me, hereafter, for truly you soothe away the pain and will
heal my sorrow.”




                              CHAPTER VI

                       FLOWER DAYS AND LEGENDS.


Frances soon drove the car up to the side porch where the scouts from
the house were waiting for the rest of their patrol to join them, and
after welcoming Mrs. Tompkins and the three girls, they all started
for Solomon’s Seal Camp. On the way past the strip of ground which
Norma had had cleared and manured ready to plant Mrs. James was told
what Mrs. Tompkins had suggested about fruit and flower bushes from
the woods to provide food for bees and birds.

“That’s a splendid idea, and one that we will carry out without delay,
Norma,” replied Mrs. James.

“It will take all of us scouts working with you to complete such a
large contract on time,” laughed Janet.

“If the trees are meant for the birds and bees, we will have to bear
our share of the burden of moving them from the woods, because we are
all partners in the bird and bee business, you know, as well as in
Sue’s corporation,” added Natalie.

“I’m sure I have no objection to these offers of help,” retorted Mrs.
James.

“Well, then, we’ll mention the contract to Patrol One, as soon as we
arrive in camp,” was Belle’s remark. And she did it, too, the moment
welcomes were over. The scouts of Patrol One were very glad to accept
the contract on shares, and they agreed to start seeking for healthy
young trees and bushes without delay.

Then Norma exclaimed: “And what do you think, girls? I told Mrs.
Tompkins about the geraniums I wanted to plant all along the
fence-bed, and she said that geraniums meant ‘envy.’ Did you ever know
that every flower means something?”

The scouts admitted that they did not know it, but they also wanted to
know all about the various meanings of well-known flowers. Mrs. James
interrupted, however, with the question: “There are many different
kinds of geranium, Mrs. Tompkins, so the meaning ‘envy’ cannot apply
to them all.”

“No, because we do not classify the flowers correctly. We call several
flowers ‘geraniums’ which have no right to the name. In the Far East
the geranium is the size of a small tree, but the plants we call by
the same name are nothing like that. Then, too, the spiced flower, and
the rose-geranium are not really proper names for the plants.

“The tree that really is a geranium in the Far East stood for envy
until Mahomet washed his shirt one day and hung it on the limb of the
geranium tree to dry. In a marvelously short time the garment was dry,
so Mahomet took it from the bush but where the shirt had hung now
blossomed forth a brilliant crimson crown of flowers. And from that
day, the tree was no longer green with envy of its flowering
neighbors, but proud in its own beauty.”

The two Patrols applauded this unexpected story and Miss Mason added:
“I see our Welcome Entertainer lost no time in beginning her work.
This deserves a badge of honor from us, I say.”

“We agree, but where is the badge?” asked Janet.

“We’ll make one and invite Mrs. Tompkins to be our guest, on the day
we present it to her,” returned Miss Mason, smilingly. So the scouts
surmised she had a nice little plan in mind with which to thank Mrs.
Tompkins.

“I vote that we give Mrs. Tompkins the seat of honor and lose no time
in hearing all the valuable things she can tell us,” suggested Mrs.
James, waving her girls to the grass to seat themselves.

So the Speaker for the day was conducted to the chair that was the
seat of the Captain at other times and the scouts formed a semi-circle
about her, with ears and eyes and minds open to hear everything she
said.

“I suppose to be a good instructor, I ought to mention a few things
about the flowers; but you all may know, or a few of you may not know
of them. However, I will only speak of these things in a general way
so you will not need to grow impatient with me,” began Mrs. Tompkins.

“First of all, the floriculturist must understand the soil he expects
to plant his flowers, or seeds, in. There are many kinds of compost,
and some kinds are better than others, for certain flowers or soil.
Best of all _general_ flower fertilizers is a well-rotted cow manure,
but it must be six months old, at least, before it is mixed with the
soil. Fresh well-ground bone meal is best for roses, shrubs, trees and
many flowers. Soot taken from our chimneys is splendid for box, privet
and other hedges, especially so for the bay trees which are so
decorative these days. If you mix soot with sulphur, you can stop
mildew which is the bane of many a florist.

“One reason why country women have good success with the flowers
growing about the kitchen doorstep is because they generally throw the
dish water or Monday’s wash water from the clothes out over the flower
beds. Not that the dirty water helps the flower but the amount of
potash from the soap did the work of fertilizing.

“Sheep manure is fine, but expensive, for flower beds. Also the
sweepings and rakings of the poultry yard—this is as good as any
compost I know of. The cleanings of the pig pen also mixes well with
the chicken manure, and the combination is excellent.

“One of the main causes of flower sickness and pests, comes from dry
atmosphere, dewless nights, dry winds or baking sun rays. These sap
the vitality of the plants and check their progress. If you dig up the
soil a few inches and mix in it the fresh clipped grass from the lawn
or a bit of very old manure you can offset this evil.

“The minute you find mildew on a plant, fight it, or it will spread so
rapidly to other plants that you will find it well nigh impossible to
kill it. In a very short time, your most beautiful flowers will be
nothing but a memory. Powder your diseased plants with soot and
sulphur nor care for their looks as long as you save them in the end.

“Roses are our sweetest and also the most troublesome of flowers. One
seldom plucks a rose without finding a bug about it somewhere. But all
sorts of bugs can be cleaned off now and kept away by sprinkling the
rose bushes with a water to which a mixture of milk, kerosene and
water has been added. The directions say: Three pints sweet milk,
three pints kerosene, two pints water. Then add this as you need to
wet the bushes, as follows: one pint of mixture to every two gallons
of water. Not only sprinkle all leaves, buds and blossoms, but the
ground about the bush, as well. This wash can be applied every ten
days to two weeks apart, from May to June.

“The best all-around cure I know of, for removing every sort of insect
or worm, are the birds—plenty of wild birds about your place. To
encourage these feathered helpers, keep away strange cats, provide
plenty of bird houses, give them bathing pools and feeding stations,
as well as berry bushes, fruit trees and plants that will provide
plenty of seeds for them to harvest. One of the favorite foods of the
wild birds are various kinds of growing grain, corn and seed grasses.
The latter are very decorative when grown in clumps and large patches,
and the grain can be made to add to the beauty of a place if properly
grouped.

“There are very few flowers that cannot be planted in the fall and
left to come up in the spring. All my bulbs are planted in fall and
covered with a straw mixed manure to keep the frost away. Also my
hardy plants and shrubs are planted in the fall. If vines and
self-growing flowers are seeded in the fall and covered with a light
compost, they will come up as soon as the season is conducive. But I
seldom set out my tender plants until after Decoration Day. If I need
an early start for my flowers, I begin them in the hot-beds, or cold
frames.

“I won’t take any more time now, girls, to go into details about
plants, because we have all summer to ask and answer questions on any
special matter. But I will reply to any query you may wish to ask me
now, before I begin the legends,” said Mrs. Tompkins.

The scouts showed no desire to postpone the telling of the stories
they wanted to hear, so the guest smiled and began.

“I’ll begin by telling you that Hester’s natal flower is the white
rose—her birthday comes on the first of June. The fairy-tale about the
first white rose is very pretty.

“One very warm day in the long ago, the Hindu god Vishnu was arguing
with Brahma while both of them floated on the water to cool
themselves. Brahma had said that the lovely lotus in which he was
floating was the fairest flower that ever was seen. Vishnu
contradicted his statement, by saying that he knew of a flower far
more beautiful.

“Then Brahma said impatiently: ‘I cannot believe what my eyes have
ne’er beheld. Where is this rare blossom thou praiseth?’

“Vishnu smiled wisely and replied: ‘The lotus is fair, but this flower
that blooms only in my garden of Paradise is incomparable. Nothing
hath ever been seen like unto it.’

“Then Brahma became curious to see it with his own eyes, and he said:
‘Go to! If thy flower be so wondrous fair that its beauty exceedeth my
lotus, then will I give thee the half of my kingdom. But should it
fail to merit my admiration and my lotus remains the finest flower,
then the half of thy domain becomes mine.’

“Vishnu agreed to this wager and the two quickly hied them to the
Paradise that surrounded Vishnu’s palace. Brahma was conducted to a
royal banqueting hall to partake of refreshments, but he was too eager
to see the beautiful flower Vishnu had lauded.

“So the two sought the gardens where the sweetest and loveliest
flowers bloomed all the year round. Then came Vishnu to a circular bed
that was surrounded by a path, and all about this path were wonderful
roses, wafting their perfume everywhere. But all the blossoms turned
the one way—towards the circular flower bed in the center of which
stood a tall, slender, majestic rose plant.

“Vishnu halted in front of this rose tree that stood apart from its
brethren, as if consecrated for a purpose. And as he lifted his eyes
to the tiny green bud that crowned the top of the bush, the bud began
to grow. Brahma stared in wonderment, but said not a word—so marvelled
he.

“In a few moments the bud had increased to its full size, which was
thrice the size of a man’s head. And then it began to open its green
doors. Slowly the white leaves of a flower appeared and when full
grown, leaned back upon the stem of the blossom to make room for the
other petals.

“Finally all the petals had appeared, and the rose seemed full-blown.
Then came such a rare perfume from its heart as would intoxicate the
beholders. And from the heart of the rose, there came slowly and
gracefully a waxen-white goddess of surpassing beauty and fairness.
She stepped daintily from the rose and stood before the bewildered
Vishnu. Brahma was speechless with surprise also.

“Then spake the queen of the roses and said: ‘Vishnu, because thou
hast honored the flowers in thine own home garden, Nature hath sent me
to be your bride. Henceforth, the white rose shall be a bride’s
flower, and its sweetness and beauty shall ne’er fade.’

“Thereupon, Brahma admitted willingly that this flower in the garden
of Paradise was the most beautiful in the world, and the half of his
kingdom became Vishnu’s, who now was the greater lord and governed
Brahma and his possessions.”

When Mrs. Tompkins concluded her story of the white rose, the scouts
applauded delightedly, and then Janet called out: “Tell me my flower,
Mrs. Tompkins, and what is the legend to go with it.”

“When is your birthday, Janet?” asked the story-teller.

“August twentieth.”

Mrs. Tompkins laughed lightly and replied: “Janet, you have a flower
that is a keynote to your character—daring, frank, stubborn to resist
obstacles and adverse conditions, generous in sweetness and sunny
coloring, but so willing to bloom everywhere that others might be
cheered, that it is not half appreciated. I mean the dandelion, your
natal day flower.”

The other scouts laughed at Janet’s expression and Mrs. James remarked
significantly: “The dandelion never borrows trouble, skips merrily
over the meadow or roadway, creeps in to smile on the fairest lawns,
lifts its sunny face in the most squalid corners, but is often
trampled under foot, or scorned because of its intrepid stand but bold
assurance.”

“Well, if that means I am bold because I was impatient to know what my
birth flower was, I have my answer. A dandelion! Pooh!” was Janet’s
scornful rejoinder.

“Don’t scorn this little flower, Janet, because you say it grows
commonly everywhere. The field and roadside blossoms have the greatest
mission in God’s flower kingdom. Because they are told to brighten and
cheer all climes and creatures. Besides this, the dandelion has a most
interesting construction and its great sweetness offers unlimited
nectar and pollen to the bees and birds. What would they do without
the dandelion?” said Mrs. Tompkins.

Janet felt more resigned at this explanation, and Mrs. Tompkins
continued: “The name of dandelion is not the correct one for this
sunny blossom, but like so many of our English words it became
commonly called the ‘dandelion’ because a foppish young lion of
society who was one of the ‘dandies’ of his day, and used the little
yellow flower as his symbol. It was used on his linen, his crest, and
he always wore one in his button-hole.

“But the real name of the flower was Sun Lion, because of its
endurance and powers to withstand overwhelming adversities, and
because its face always smiled serenely up at the sun, and turned as
the sun moved across the sky, to always keep its eye open towards it.
This is what made its fine golden petals radiate from the central
point outward—as the sun’s rays shine outward to all.

“The legend that I have heard of the dandelion comes from Indian lore,
and the moral is quite simple to understand—never procrastinate.

“The South Wind, who was very fond of wild flowers, took a walk one
day through a woods where he became enchanted with the pretty blossoms
he found growing there. But he loitered so long that he became drowsy
when the sun shone warmly down at noontime. So he found a secluded
shady nook and curled up to have a nap.

“When he awoke, he found he had slept through the night and now it was
morning again; so he lifted his head and rested it upon his elbow, and
gazed delightedly around him. The woods with its admiring blossoms,
smiled back at him, and out on the meadows the meek and lowly flowers
nodded joyously to greet him.

“As South Wind smiled back at his admirers, he suddenly saw a happy
little flower maid out on the meadow, dancing for joy and waving about
her a bright sunny cloud of golden hair.

“South Wind was so enchanted by this bright vision that he decided to
woo her for his bride. But the sun rose higher and reached noontime,
when it shone too warm for South Wind to exert himself very much. So
he said he would defer his wooing until the next day. Then he sought
the cool and shady nook in the woods and soon fell fast asleep again.

“When he awoke again, it was another day, but still the golden-haired
maid was dancing and smiling in the meadow; and the amorous South Wind
sighed with sentiment and started to rise and woo the captivating
beauty. But again the heat of noonday overcame his good intentions and
he dropped back and took one more nap.

“He awoke early on the third morn and jumped up with the determination
to go and win the fair maid _that_ day without fail. So he blew
himself quickly out of the alluring woods and reached the meadowland
where he had watched the golden-haired dancer. As he softly approached
the figure which now stood still in the grass, he smiled, for he
pictured the greeting such a spirited maid would give him—the South
Wind!

“He reached the figure, but what was his chagrin when he saw the
wonderful golden hair had faded to grey, and the youth of the charming
dancer had turned to old age upon a bended stem! Poor South Wind knew
it was because of his delay in wooing and winning the object of his
love, while youth and beauty remained, that now filled his heart with
bitter disappointment. He sighed heavily with his sorrow, and his
breath blew over the grey head of Sun Lion and at that breath of love
lost, the whitened hair fell from her crown and were lightly wafted,
here and there, and far away, leaving the old head shorn of all its
covering, and bent low in useless regrets.”

This story met with more appreciative applause than the white rose
legend, and then so many girls called for their natal flowers and the
legends to go with them, that the Captain held up a hand for patience.
When quiet reigned once more, Mrs. James said:

“I propose that we hear from our hostess of Green Hill Farm. Perhaps
she has a favorite natal flower and a pretty legend to go with it.”

“Yes, Natalie—what is your birth date?” asked Mrs. Tompkins.

“My birthday is on the eleventh of June?” said the girl eagerly.

“June eleventh has the field daisy for its flower. It means
‘optimism.’ There are many stories in connection with the daisy—or
Marguerite, as it is known in France. But the story that is claimed to
be a true one, tells how Marguerite of heathen times, was driven from
her father’s home in Antioch because she would not renounce the
Christian faith and bow low to the pagan god. She loved the daisy and
it became her flower after her martyrdom.

“There is a legend, or myth, about the daisy that says: ‘Once the
dryads were dancing on the great Green of the world, when the god of
spring passed by and stopped to watch the dance. The dryads were so
merry and gay in the abandon of their whirl that they did not see the
god of spring creep up and await his opportunity to spring forward and
catch up the sweetest of them all—a modest lovely little form which
had attracted his eye.

“‘Just as the god snatched the beauteous maiden from her companions,
she lifted her head and called to heaven for help. Instantly she was
turned into the lovely little daisy that always lifts its head toward
heaven and greets the sun with smiles.’”

When the girls’ applause for this tale died out, Norma suggested
eagerly: “Now we ought to hear Jimmy’s natal flower and its legend.”

“I already know my natal flower, and my birthday being so near at hand
I think I will ask to be excused from the publicity such a revelation
will make just now,” laughed Mrs. James.

“Tell us what your flower is, if you know it?” demanded Natalie
eagerly.

“It is the honeysuckle—not the wild but the clinging vine,” returned
Mrs. James.

“Ha! That means devotion, doesn’t it. Quite true of your
characteristics, too,” remarked Mrs. Tompkins.

Mrs. James flushed, but smiled with thanks at the delicate compliment,
then added: “Is there a legend to go with it?”

“It is a love story of Old England, but not claimed to be true. It
goes like this: A sweet little country maid would not look at the
uncouth lads of her village, so they stood aside and sighed in vain.

“But a handsome young gallant rode through the dale, one morn, and
spied the lovely discontented rural maid as she stood beside the door
of her humble home-cottage. He tarried in the village long enough to
woo the girl who had appealed so strongly to his senses, but when he
had won her love and she was dreaming of her wedding day, he realized
how tiresome she would be in his gay life of London.

“So he told her ruthlessly one moonlight evening that he could not wed
because he had wearied of her love. The maid cried out brokenly that
she would not let him leave her. But he sprang away from her
outstretched hands and ran for his horse which had been hidden behind
the trees. Before he could reach it, however, the jilted maid ran
after and caught his body in her embrace. She sank upon her knees,
while she still clung desperately to his waist and hands and begged
him to remain with her yet a little while.

“He was just about to tear away her clinging fingers so he could
escape, when the moon rode out from behind the black cloud that had
veiled its face hitherto. The broken-hearted maiden cried to the moon
to help her keep her lover always beside her, and instantly, an icy
finger of moonlight touched the callous youth and turned him into a
slender tree. About the trunk of the tree there twined the arms of the
girl in the form of the honeysuckle, but every tear she wept produced
a splash of a flower that shed sweetest fragrance upon the air.”

“That is a very romantic little story, but not one that I can claim as
an appropriate one for myself,” laughed Mrs. James.

“Now that Jimmy has had her flower and its legend, I think we ought to
hear one for Miss Mason, too,” declared Janet.

“Yes, yes!” chorused the scouts eagerly.

“Well, girls, my birthday happens to be soon, and I feel the same as
my Lieutenant does—that it will give the date too much publicity if
you all hear it, just now,” retorted Miss Mason.

“Oh, I know when Jimmy’s is. If yours is near that time it ought to be
the honeysuckle, too,” said Natalie.

“Just to compel the Captain to reveal the date of her birth, I will
tell you, scouts, that my birthday is on the sixteenth of July—very
imminent, you see,” said Mrs. James.

“Why! how interesting! That is my birthday, too!” exclaimed the
Captain.

“Ho! A double birthday, then,” exclaimed Norma.

“And one we must celebrate without fail,” added Janet.

“Yes, indeed! Our two grand masters of the lodge having a birthday on
the same day!” laughed Natalie.

“We’ll have the party, all right, to celebrate, but the Captain has no
legend coming to her. She’ll have to take some of Jimmy’s honeysuckle
and share the romance with her,” said Norma.

The scouts laughed merrily and when the teasing had subsided somewhat
the Captain said: “We ought to know what Solomon’s Seal means—in a
legend, I mean.”

But the girls were clamoring for their own birth flowers, so that Miss
Mason’s words were lost. Mrs. Tompkins replied to most of the requests
for the names and meanings of the various natal flowers, and the
scouts heard that June the fifth had Verbena for its flower and its
meaning was “discretion.” The Crocus for March seventh meant
cheerfulness. The Canterbury Bell in August stood for gratitude. And
the April Violet meant modesty. One of the scouts heard that the
snapdragon meant presumption but she was the most retiring one of all
the Patrol, so this called out a general laugh at her expense. Then
Frances was told that her flower was the proud and disdainful
sunflower and again the scouts laughed heartily for they declared that
the flower dictionary was wrong. Frances should have had the fuchsia
instead, which means “mad ambition.”

Two hours had passed in this interesting form of story-telling and now
Mrs. Tompkins said she must be starting back home or her husband would
send out the secret detective force of Four Corners to locate her.

The very idea of Four Corners having any such force made the scouts
laugh gayly, but Miss Mason said anxiously: “Oh, you must not think of
leaving the scout gathering until we have had our refreshments, Mrs.
Tompkins.”

This part of the programme was unexpected by Patrol Two, but
nevertheless very acceptable. Short shrift was made of the cakes baked
by the scouts that morning; and the birch lemonade concocted from the
essence distilled from macerated birch, made a delicious drink.

As the scouts of Patrol Number Two left camp and started for the
house, one of the members of Patrol One called out: “Don’t forget the
celebration on the sixteenth! We’ve got to get together very soon and
plan for it.”

And Natalie, speaking for her scouts, called back: “No, we won’t
forget!”




                             CHAPTER VII

                      THE ROCK AND WATER GARDEN.


Late that afternoon, when the girls were engaged with their various
pursuits, Norma called Mrs. James to join her over at the rail fence.
Here the two paced off the strip of ground and tied strings on the
rails opposite which they planned to plant the wild berry and flower
bushes from the woods.

This done, Norma said: “Now let’s go over to the barn yard and decide
where to plant the sun flowers and other bushes from the woods.”

This was finally done, also, and then Mrs. James walked slowly from
the barn to the edge of the tiny brook that ran all along the edge of
the barn yard and found its outlet in the woodland stream. Norma
followed, wondering why her companion paused so often to study the
environment and why she turned to allow her eyes to rove over the
rivulet and its weedy sides.

“I’ve been thinking, Norma, that this unsightly spot on the farm ought
to be redeemed in some way. Not only does this insignificant creek
afford many stagnant places where mosquitoes breed, but the briars and
weeds growing so thickly on its banks keep scattering their seeds
every fall and causing more work for us the following season.”

“What were you thinking of doing with it, Jimmy?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking a great deal of what you said yesterday,
Norma, about wishing to build a rock garden with ferns and plants that
grow well in such soil, and then when you had time to figure out the
plans and cost of building a miniature water garden, you wanted to
take up that interesting work.

“I have always had a desire to build a water garden, too, but I never
really got so far as to see it done. I felt the wish to make one
revive the moment you spoke of planning one. And just now when we
crossed this undesirable patch of ground, I started wondering if we
could not divert this stream into something for our garden.”

“Oh, but I had no idea of having my water garden over by the barn
yard, Jimmy,” exclaimed Norma, greatly disturbed. “I wanted it to be
on the front lawn, or near enough to the house so we could all enjoy
its refreshing looks whenever we passed by it or sat on the porch.”

“That is my intention, too. I want to find out the source of this tiny
creek, because it must have a source somewhere, you know. I do not
remember any brook or water passing over the main road in front of the
house, do you?”

“No, but we may have overlooked its being there. There may be a large
drain pipe under the road, to conduct the creek from one side of the
road to our side. I’ll go and find out.”

“We’ll both go and see just where this water has its birth. Now that
I’ve given a thought to it, I’m as curious as can be, to locate its
origin,” said Mrs. James.

So the two hurried past the house and out to the road. Here they
walked for some distance past the corner post of the farm-line, but
could not find anything that might possibly be a spring or creek that
would finally form the tiny rivulet they were investigating.

So they retraced their steps and again reached the little ford over
the barn yard lane, where the stream crossed.

“We’ll have to break our way into this jungle of shoulder-high weeds
and briars, if we expect to find the source of the creek,” remarked
Mrs. James, pinning her short skirt tightly about her and beginning to
bend down the weedy stems that obstructed the way.

Norma followed closely in her tracks and after a slow progress through
the stubborn undergrowth, the two came to a spot almost opposite the
house, but about three hundred yards away from it.

“Why, the creek turns sharply towards the house here, Norma, but the
jungle spreads further afield,” said Mrs. James, as she turned to the
left to follow the stream.

They now reached a point in the course of the creek that was not a
hundred feet away from the front corner of the house, but the reeds
and briars had always hidden the small stream winding its way through
the jungle. Mrs. James was elated at discovering a natural supply of
water so near the front lawns and stepped out to proceed, when
suddenly her foot sank in a soft bog.

“Oh!” exclaimed she, quickly pulling her foot out and stepping back.
Norma was just about to advance, but she, too, jumped back to avoid a
collision.

“What is it—a water snake?” called Norma anxiously.

“No, a mire. I went right down in a marsh. But it is not possible to
determine how large an area the mire covers, because the undergrowth
is so dense. Let’s go back and try to enter the place from the
front-lawn side.”

So the two hastened back the way they had come, and tried to continue
their investigations from the front lawn side of the briar patch.

The two stood on a slight elevation of ground at the front corner of
the lawn, where stood a group of giant pines which had done service as
silent sentinels for more than a century. They made one of the
artistic scenic effects on the farm, with their wide-spreading limbs
tipped with flat fans of aromatic green shading the lawn and road.

“From this slight knoll, the ground slopes naturally to this
depression that is now covered with that tangled undergrowth,” said
Mrs. James, pointing generally at the area under discussion. “You can
see that the ground rises very gradually from the depression until it
is on a level with the main road again. From the spot where I went
down in the marsh, over to the property line of our farm, is more than
a hundred yards across, and it is all such a jungle that no one ever
bothered to investigate the possibilities of doing anything with it.
At least, that is what I think, because this place has been
uncultivated for years, as one can see.”

Norma listened intently and followed with her eyes, the various
directions pointed out, but wondered what could be done.

“Now I am almost convinced that that creek finds its source somewhere
in that bog. I believe that the spring we will discover there is not
only the cause of that bog and the rank growth of weeds and briars,
but it also furnishes the tiny stream of water that trickles past the
barn. If this is so, Norma, then our hardest problem is already
solved. In building a water garden the question of water supply is the
greatest thing.

“One can run a pipe line from the house to any locality, and one can
divert a nearby stream into a pool, and then lead its overflow away
again, but that means a lot of work and expense. If we can find that
the spring is located in, or near, this depression of ground, we not
only have solved our difficulty of water supply, but we also have a
natural pool formed by this slight hollow that is nicely graded all
around to form the banks of our lake.”

“But, Jimmy, those roots will grow up again even if we cut off the
tops of the weeds, and the bog will be horrid if it is underneath our
pool,” was Norma’s disappointed reply.

“We’d have to get help and dig out the roots to prevent their decaying
when under water. And we’d have to clear out the boggy ground and dig
down until we struck solid earth again; then leave that for our basis
to build on,” explained Mrs. James.

“Do you think Sam can do all of that? I know you and I could never
accomplish it alone,” ventured Norma.

“I would have Mr. Ames go over the area and tell us what he thought of
it. He can give us an idea of what it will cost to clear out the
jungle, and clean up the bog from the bottom of the depression. If it
does not cost too much, I think I will start the work at once.”

“It would be just wonderful if we could make our dreams of a water
garden come true this year. I was afraid I would have to wait for next
summer before I could try anything so elaborate,” sighed Norma
delightedly.

“Now that we know where the creek starts, Norma, suppose we walk
around by the road and climb the fence to get into the fringe of woods
on the other side of this area. I’m curious to find out if this
depression extends far across to the other boundary line of this farm.
I only hope it does, for that will give us a wonderful expanse of
water to plan for, and the spring can fill it just as easily as if it
were a tiny little puddle. The height of the dam we will have to build
at the far end of the depression, will be determined by the depth of
the water we wish to have in the lake.”

“Oh, Jimmy! Will we have a real dam, too?” cried Norma.

“Of course! That is what will back up the water and fill the
depression. If there is no dam, the water will go right on running
away as it now does.”

The two now started for the road in order to gain the far side of the
briar area, but Frances was seen coming from the barn in the
automobile. They reached the gateway about the same time and Mrs.
James asked: “Where are you going, Frances?”

“Over to Dorothy Ames’s to see if she can come over and advise Janet
about some pigeons. Dot raises them, you know, and we want her to find
a suitable place for Sam to start the cote.”

“Then I wish you would stop at the other Ames’s farm and see if Mr.
Ames is home. If he can come over for a half hour, I’d like very much
to ask him about some work to be done here,” said Mrs. James.

“I’ll not only stop and ask him, but we’ll stop and bring him back
with us, if he can get away,” agreed Frances.

While the two were waiting for Frances to reappear with Farmer Ames,
they talked eagerly of the lake they could already visualize in the
place where bog and weeds now stood.

“If we build a dam, Jimmy, that means we will have a water falls, too,
doesn’t it?” was Norma’s eager question.

“Yes, and I will want a bridge, too, over the lake.”

“Oh, how lovely! Maybe we can build a bridge like I’ve seen in
magazines, where the large estates have landscape gardeners beautify
the grounds. I’ve seen Japanese gardens with the loveliest bridges and
islands in the lakes! I’d like a bridge with stone lanterns and
Japanese idols and temples on it.”

Mrs. James laughed. “I’d like them, too, but I will be contented with
a rustic bridge of cedar, for the time being. We may be able to have
the upright posts heavy enough to hold up an iron lantern on its top,
but the temple and little gods are out of the question, because they
cost so much in the city.”

“Another thing, Jimmy, we can transplant lots of wild fruit and berry
bushes from those woods on the other side of the fence, and grow them
in groups on the banks of our lake. And we must group rocks in such
places where they will be most effective, and then plant the fern and
plants that will need moisture and shade. Oh, it will be perfectly
lovely when it is finished!”

When Frances brought Farmer Ames back with her, the experienced man
heard Mrs. James’s plans and wishes to start a lake. At first he
laughed heartily at such a suggestion, but the more he looked at the
disgraceful briar patch and thought of the beautiful spot a water
garden would make, right there he changed his laughter to serious
ideas.

“The old tenant never tilled that ground because it was so boggy and
he claimed it was sour. So he just let it go like this, all the ten
years he lived on the farm,” explained Mr. Ames.

“One thing I want you to find out now, is this: Just where is that
spring located, and how much muck will have to be dug out before you
strike hard ground to build on,” said Mrs. James.

“I kin tel you that in a very short time. I’ve got on my rubber boots,
so I kin plunge right in now,” agreed Mr. Ames.

So he thrashed down the reeds and briars in his way and went into the
marsh. The two anxious watchers on the high ground could see that his
feet sank to a depth of about ten inches, or more. But that did not
say that he had struck solid hard ground. He might have to dig out
another six to ten inches of muck soil before solid earth could be
reached.

Finally Mr. Ames shouted to the anxious gardeners: “I’ve struck the
spring itself! Here’s where it bubbles up.”

“It’s almost in the middle of the area, isn’t it?” called Mrs. James
delightedly.

“Yeh, and it makes quite a little way for itself until it gets clogged
with dirt and tangle of debris. Then it spreads all over the place and
causes the bog. It looks like an easy job to clean out a little ditch
to run the water along to the creek, until we are ready to flood the
whole area,” said Ames.

He prodded about some more and then he came out again. “I should say,
Mis’ James, that that fixin’ ought to be right easy.”

“You do! How far over can we extend the water?”

“The land doesn’t begin to rise again until you get close to the
fringe of bushes, over there—this side Natalie’s fence.”

“Splendid! Just what I hoped for!” cried Mrs. James, clasping her
hands eagerly.

“And how far down past the house can we run it, Mr. Ames?” added
Norma.

“Well, up hereabouts, where the roadway drops down to this hollow, it
will be wider than down by the house, you know. In plain words, the
head of the lake would be about where the fence divides the land from
the main road. It will sort of round itself off before it gets to the
clump of pine trees, and on t’other side it will round quite sharp
instead of having any corner where the side fence joins the front
fence of the property lines.

“Right across from the lawn to that side will be the widest part of
the pond, and from there down to the end of the briar patch it will
gradually narrow in until it reaches the place where you intend having
the dam set,” Mr. Ames explained.

“How much work will it be to cut down the jungle and dig up the
roots?” asked Mrs. James anxiously.

“If you mean for me to do it, I could start in with your man Sam to
help me and clean off the weeds and the roots in about two days’
time.”

Norma could hardly believe it, but she said nothing, for Mrs. James
was speaking again. “And then how long do you suppose it will take to
scrape off the bog and muck and reach hard pan?”

“Umph! That’s not easy to figger on, ’cause some of the bog might be
made by deep roots that hold on for dear life to the soil underneath.
But Sam and I ought to be able to clean out the stuff in another two
to four days—all depends.”

“We’ll do it, Mr. Ames! Even if I have to pay for the work out of my
own money—we’ll have this lake without any delay. I wish you’d come
and start work to clear the weeds just as soon as you can,” declared
Mrs. James.

“Can you spare Sam all day tomorrow, if I come over to work?” asked
the farmer.

“Yes, not only Sam, but Norma and I are going to help in this work.
Perhaps some of the other scouts will join us, and every one can find
something to do in the clearing of the place. While you are throwing
out the muck, I intend to convey it to places conveniently near where
it can be well mixed with manure and be ready to spread out on the
floor of the pond as soon as you are ready for it. Yes, you come over
in the morning, and we will be ready for you, Mr. Ames,” said Mrs.
James.

That evening the scouts sat under the group of pine trees listening to
Mrs. James describe her vision of a water garden. Each one had
something to say, and every one wanted to help with the interesting
development of the lake. So the work was detailed off in order to give
every one a certain contract to fulfill.

There were large and picturesque rocks to haul, to pile up or group,
in order to add to the natural beauty of the garden. Frances suggested
a way to haul these rocks.

“We’ll get a chain and tackle from Ames and fasten the fingers of the
clutch about a rock. The chain can be hooked to the back of the car
and then I’ll drive while the rock is being dragged along the road to
the lakeside.”

“You’ll have a dreadful hard job dragging an uneven rock over the dirt
road. It will gouge up the ground and half bury itself all along the
way. It would be much easier if we could wheel the rocks in some way,
instead of dragging them over the road,” said Janet speculatively.

“Maybe we can borrow that old truck from the station man, at Four
Corners, and hook the handle to the automobile and just pull it along
with the rocks on it,” ventured Norma.

“That’s a good idea! I’ll drive in first thing in the morning and get
it. Si Tompkins will ask the man for me. We won’t hurt it any more
than trunks and ploughs and other things it has to move from the
baggage cars to the farmers’ carts,” said Frances.

“Oh, no one will worry about hurting it,” laughed Natalie. “It is in
such a battered state that nothing more can injure it.”

“Well, that’s settled, then. Some of you scouts will see to it that
the rocks are delivered on the shores of the lake,” said Mrs. James.
Then she went on: “Some will have to dig up the bushes and young trees
in the woodland stretch, over on the other side, and carefully
transplant them in suitable pits dug to receive them on the shores of
the pool.”

A group of scouts was told off for this work and Janet with a number
of friends were ordered to bring well-rotted cow manure from Ames’s
farm and mix it with the soft muck which would be cleared out of the
hollow. Small heaps of this mixture would be left at intervals all
around the lake, so it could be readily shovelled back and spread out
to form a rich soil under the water where water lilies, Egyptian lotus
and iris could be planted.

“Another task that must be attended to is the carting of nice white
sand to the fence line in front; so it can be used when the lake
bottom is all finished. The sand must be spread out about an inch in
depth, all over the compost soil, to keep the water clear. I’m going
to hire Ames’s cart and farm horse to do this work. The sand from a
pit half a mile down the road is just the kind we will need, so a few
of you scouts can drive there and attend to this branch of work,” said
Mrs. James.

But the majority of the scouts were chosen to help work on the
clearing of the land. Not only were they willing to drag away the
tough roots of old nettles and reeds, but they offered to help dig out
the bog and carry the muck up from the hollow to heap it where Mrs.
James would designate.

When Hester Tompkins went home that night and told her parents of the
plan to turn the wild briar patch into a water garden, they thought it
was splendid, and offered to assist in the work in any way Mrs. James
needed them. So the next morning found Mrs. Tompkins ready to go with
Hester to walk to the farm and begin to work for the future lake.

Mr. Tompkins had no trouble in borrowing the heavy truck from the
baggage office at the station, and when Frances started for Green
Hill, pulling the truck behind the automobile, several of the natives
stood laughing. But the store keeper suggested a better way to help
than by standing there laughing at nothing.

“I say! we husky men pitch in and help them gals root up the rocks
they want for their garden. We all own crow bars, and we know how to
handle a rock, so let’s pitch in, says I, eh?”

Most of the men had heard of the scouts’ farming and other work at
Green Hill and every one wanted to inspect the place and see what
these girls could do, so they agreed to join Si Tompkins and help
collect the rocks for the garden. Had it not been for the strength and
experience these men had to pry the rocks out of their resting places
and remove them to the water garden which they were meant to beautify,
it is doubtful if the girls could have finished that work quite so
speedily.

When Mrs. Tompkins reached the house at Green Hill, she was welcomed
by the girls because they knew she could advise them in many ways that
would help the work along faster and better.

As Mrs. James led the way to the briar patch, Mrs. Tompkins said:
“Have you planned to have a Japanese garden, or just a pool?”

“Norma said yesterday, how she would love to have a real Japanese
water garden similar to those she has seen in magazines. But I told
her we could not afford the money for the decorative lanterns, and
temples and seats such as a Japanese garden called for.”

“Why, they won’t cost very much extra—only for the cement, you know,”
said Mrs. Tompkins.

Norma and Mrs. James gazed in surprise at their visitor and Norma
said: “What cement do you mean?”

“Why, the cement for the concrete. And the work is so interesting,
too, you ought to try it before you count the cost.”

“You don’t mean that we can _make_ the temples and other objects?”
exclaimed Mrs. James.

“Of course! You didn’t mean to hire them made, did you?” was the
lady’s retort, as much surprised as her two hostesses.

“I never dreamed of it! I don’t know a thing about concrete,” was Mrs.
James’s dismayed answer.

“I’ll show you. As long as you are going to build a dam to back up the
pond, you may as well order a few extra bags of cement and build your
seats and bridges and other things so they will last.”

“I thought I would try and have some sort of a bridge of rustic wood,
but I was pondering how to erect the pillars or posts so they would be
firm and strong enough to hold up the span,” said Mrs. James.

By this time the three reached the edge of the area where Ames and Sam
were already ditching a narrow outlet used to drain the marsh of the
spring water. Mrs. James pointed out where she wanted a bridge to be,
and Mrs. Tompkins nodded, then suggested:

“Don’t try to span the entire water with one bridge, Mrs. James. When
Ames gets the marsh all cleaned out and it is dry enough for us to
work in, we will mix the concrete and make a few islands in the lake.
The largest one can be in the direction of the widest diameter of the
lake, which is near the roadway that passes the place. Our bridge will
run from here to that island. Then from the other side of that island
we will build another smaller bridge to span the distance to an island
nearer the other side, but further down near the dam. Then a third
bridge can span that water from the island to the opposite shore. What
do you think of my suggestions?”

“Oh, perfectly fine, but think of all the work in making the islands?”
said Mrs. James.

“No more work than if you had to construct three solid piers for the
bridge if you spanned the entire width of the lake. The concrete base
we use for the islands will not have to be molded or clean-cut, you
know. It will be poured on the floor of the marsh first then the
thicker concrete will be piled on top of that when it is hard. We will
embed rocks in this second layer so the mass will harden together and
form as fine a foundation as one can want. In the crevices of the
rocks and all over the concrete foundation, we will throw the rich
soil you are planning to prepare, and in this we can plant our bushes
and flowers.

“On the smaller islands we will not have room for bushes or shrubs,
but the ferns and water plants can grow there. Besides, a planting of
cat-tails in the soil around the islands will make them look much
larger than they really are, and still show glimpses of the water
glistening through their stalks.”

“Dear me, I’m so glad you came to advise us, Mrs. Tompkins, that I
want to hug you for it!” exclaimed Norma enthusiastically.

The two women laughed and Mrs. James added: “Norma was so keen about
having temples and seats and Japanese lanterns that I felt sorry for
her disappointment. Now she can have them all and more, too.”

“I wanted to have those cute little dwarf pines in the stone jars on
the bridge, you know, like they have in pictures, but Jimmy said the
stone objects cost too much,” explained Norma.

“Let me tell you right here that the crooked little pines and cedars
that you see growing in or near the water in the finest of Japanese
gardens are not planted in the water nor in the soil of the water
garden. They are planted in large galvanized or other metal buckets so
they will be waterproof, and these pails are sunken into the ground,
or hidden by reeds and ferns that grow up about the outer edges of the
pail to screen it. The water generally reaches up to within an inch of
the top of the pail so that the plant and the soil it is in never get
wet from the lake. Quite often, the pails holding the trees are placed
in the jardinieres of concrete, but do not show from the outside. They
can be easily lifted out and given the care they need, and then
replaced again. If they were planted right in the concrete posts they
could not be taken out and attended to as they require it.”

“Then we can get some metal pails and have trees growing on our
bridge, too!” declared Norma eagerly.

“You can buy some of the ordinary stable pails that Si keeps in stock.
They are large and heavy and will never rust,” said Mrs. Tompkins.

“If you haven’t ordered your water lilies, or iris, or the lotus and
cat-tail seeds yet, I think I can get them for you from a gardener
over White Plains way, and save you money, too. He will give me a lot
of plants for nothing, because I’ve given him plenty of valuable
advice for nothing in the past.

“As for the cement—order that from White Plains at once so you won’t
be delayed after the clearing is done. In fact, if I were in your
place, Mrs. James, I’d let Frances drive over and bring back as many
bags at a time as she can comfortably carry in the car. The bags can
be wrapped in paper to keep the car clean.”

“I wish I knew half as much as you do, Mrs. Tompkins, because I’d
think myself something, then,” sighed Mrs. James.

Mrs. Tompkins laughed. “The more you really know, the more you
discover how little you have actually understood. Then the fact of one
human’s insignificance dawns upon you.”

“Well, we sure are glad you gave us all this advice, even if you do
consider yourself an insignificant human,” said Norma in so earnest a
tone that the others laughed merrily at her.

Frances drove Mrs. Tompkins back to Four Corners and got the metal
pails to carry back to the farm. She then wrote down the address of
the store where she was to go for the cement and finally started back
for Green Hill.

Rachel spread a long table, constructed of several boards, placed
across two trestles on the side lawn that evening, and then called
every one to supper. It was her greatest delight to invite company to
dinner or supper and this occasion was an unusual one to treat the men
from Four Corners who had remained and helped with the work all that
afternoon.

Hands and faces were washed at the hydrant where the garden hose was
generally attached. Rachel provided towels and soap for every one, and
a merry group of girls and farmers were soon splashing freely in order
to hurry their toilets and sit down on the boxes that stood in rows
beside the long plank table.

Perhaps it was the feast, or it may have been the merry scouts as they
entertained these middle-aged villagers that made Si Tompkins declare
as they were ready to go home: “Boys, shall we help the gals out again
tomorrer? They’ve got a powerful lot of rocks to haul, yet!”

And that is how the scouts secured such desirable workers in doing the
very heaviest part of the entire work on the water garden.

After the men had gone and the dishes were all in the kitchen, the
girls began to carry away the boards that had been in the cellar and
were used for swing shelves in winter time, Mrs. James remarked to
Miss Mason: “I wonder if goldfish will thrive in such a pond?”

“Why, of course! Didn’t you know that they are an absolute necessity
for the health of your plants and the purity of the water? They eat up
all the insect pests and mosquito larvae that grow on the water. But
you won’t want to place any gold fish in the water until it is all
settled and cleared from the work and soil.”

“Isn’t it funny, Jimmy, how I started out with a meek idea for a
little rookery or a pool garden, and you had such great ambitions that
we adventured into the bog. Now just see what is growing out of our
infant plan! A great pond with islands and bridges and temples and
everything!” exclaimed Norma, her eyes shining.

“We may end by holding a Japanese flower show in the garden this
fall,” added Janet teasingly.

“Not unless my flowers and plants grow better than they seem to at
present. I really suppose they were planted too late to have much
courage this summer, but next year they’ll pay me back,” said Norma.

“You talk as if you liked Green Hill and was coming back!” laughed
Natalie, pleased as could be at the idea.

“Coming back! Of course we are—if Jimmy and you will only let us! You
didn’t think I was raising Susy for you to own next year, did you?”
demanded Janet anxiously.

Mrs. James laughed: “We still have plenty of time in which to discuss
next year, girls, so don’t let us argue about it, at this early date.”




                             CHAPTER VIII

                         THE RAIN INTERFERES.


Every scout at Green Hill went to sleep that night with radiant
visions of working on the water garden the next day, and _perhaps_,
seeing it nearing its completion by evening. But the day dawned and
very few of the scouts could crawl out of bed. The unusual work that
had brought many dormant muscles into play the day before caused backs
and limbs to stiffen and ache, so that they cared little when they
heard the rain pattering heavily upon tents and roof.

“Dear me! Do you suppose Mr. Ames will work in the rain?” asked Norma
impatiently when she saw the steady downpour.

“He worked in the water up to his knees all day yesterday so I
shouldn’t think the rain would frighten him away,” said Janet.

“But he had on hip boots that kept his feet dry. If he works in the
rain he will be drenched in no time,” explained Belle.

“Besides, this rain will fill up the hollow so that the marsh will be
very unpleasant to dig in,” added Mrs. James.

“I don’t see why the horrid old rain couldn’t stay away for a few
days, until we got the lake finished,” grumbled Norma.

“The farmers will be so glad for this rain. We haven’t had any in so
long they feared their crops would suffer from the drought,” ventured
Mrs. James mildly.

“Oou-ch! Oo-oh!” came from Natalie, at this moment, and every one
turned to ask what was the matter.

“Oooh—a stitch in my back that cramped me all up!” sighed the girl,
bending over in order to crawl to the couch by the window.

That started a comparison of aches and cramps and pains that lasted
until Rachel served the nice hot breakfast. She always had some remark
to make on the progress of work at the farm, and now she said: “I
declare! You scouts ain’t done any more experimentin’ on dat new churn
we got, and I ain’t got no moh time to make your butter dan I’se got
to fly! Seems to me you-all can work dat churn on a day like dis.”

“Rachel is right, girls! This is the sort of weather to make scouts
look after house work. Now some of you can play with the churn while I
experiment with a cake recipe I got from a farmer’s wife last week,”
said Belle.

“If the cake is a success, who is going to eat it?” asked Janet.

“If the scouts in this part of the country weren’t so famished when
cake was mentioned, I’d say you all could have a party with it,”
laughed Belle.

“I’d say Belle had better finish her experiment first and then talk of
parties later. Maybe no one will want to risk their lives with a bite
of the cake after she has it baked,” added Natalie.

With teasing and laughing, the breakfast was finished and Janet,
Natalie and Frances decided to do the churning that day, Belle said
she would be occupied all morning in the kitchen, and Norma decided to
put on her raincoat and oilskin cap and go out to see how the flower
beds were looking.

Sambo’s dog, Grip, had not evinced any desire to bother anyone at
Green Hill Farm because he was seldom to be found about the place,
excepting at such times as when he rushed home for a meal or to sleep
at night. The scouts of Patrol Number One said they often found him
roaming about the woodland down by the stream, and Farmer Ames said he
visited them at odd times and begged for a drink of water. Then he
would wag his tail and scamper away again.

Sam grinned whenever any one of the girls asked him “what good was a
dog like that?” And he generally said apologetically: “Dat Grip ain’t
never had such a good time afore, so he don’t know how to enjoy it all
at once.”

But Grip disliked the rain and so he lounged about the house and
followed the girls to the cellar when they went to try the churn. And
he was still prowling about in the corners when he heard Rachel call
his name. That always meant something to eat, so he rushed up the
cellar stairs in great haste.

Norma had gone out to her garden and the first thing she saw was a
rank growth of weeds coming up where the seeds had been planted. This
would never do, so she leaned down to pull them up. As she bent over
the ground a dreadful odor came from it. She had to straighten up and
turn away her nose because the smell was so unpleasant.

She examined everything near the flower garden to see if a dead cat,
or rabbit, or other creature, was hidden in some corner, but nothing
could be seen. When she turned back to the flower beds again, the odor
was still there—overpowering to her delicate sense of smell.

“I’ll go and ask Jimmy if she used a new kind of compost on the ground
without my knowledge.” So saying, Norma turned to go in by the kitchen
way, but she saw Grip on the stoop very busy with a huge soup bone.

The moment he saw Norma place a foot on the lower step, he grumbled at
such interference with his repast, and taking a firm hold on the bone
with both jaws, he dashed off the stoop and ran towards Norma’s
garden.

She stood watching him without any special motive in doing so, when
suddenly she saw him burrowing a hole in her flower bed. She shouted
and ran to stop such depredations, but Grip was pawing away with both
front feet just as fast as he could, and the dirt flew out from under
the active paws and scattered about for a radius of more than ten
feet.

“Get out! Stop that, you rascal!” shouted Norma, now close enough to
catch hold of his tail and try to pull him away.

But Grip had dropped the bone in the pit already made, and now tried
to nose the soil back over it, while defying the drag Norma had on his
appendage.

“Now I know what that awful smell is, you old tramp!” exclaimed Norma,
angrily, as she gave up tugging at his tail, and instead ran to the
cellar to get her garden tools.

The three girls in the cellar listened to her story of how Grip made a
store room of her garden, and as they laughed appreciatively at the
dog’s preference for a flower garden in which to save his future
meals, Norma got her tools and went out.

With a little judicious hoeing and raking, she soon unearthed several
well-decayed bones and chunks of raw meat which Grip could not finish
at his meals, but planned to save them for a day of famine.

Norma tied a handkerchief about her nose as she dug up the odoriferous
morsels and carried them on the shovel, held at arm’s length, down the
lane to the barn yard where a compost heap was started for next year’s
planting.

“There now! One book said that old bones and meat, as well as green
garbage was excellent to mix in a compost heap before winter time, as
it would all mature together.”

With this satisfaction of having performed a good deed, Norma returned
to her flower garden to continue the weeding that had been so
unpleasantly interrupted.

But Norma discovered that the same muscles in her hips and back that
had ached so dreadfully all night, began aching again, with the
bending over the flower garden to weed, so she had to give up all
hopes of gardening that day. Having put her tools away in their
accustomed place, she went to the kitchen to offer her services to
Belle.

“You can stir up the chopped almonds if you will,” said Belle, busily
engaged in beating the cake batter.

“Where is it?” asked Norma, looking on the table for a dish of nuts.

“On the stove—in the frying pan,” returned Belle.

“Goodness sake! Do you fry the nuts before you use them?” asked Norma,
amazed at this way of making a nut cake.

“No, I do not fry nuts but I fry that mixture,” explained Belle. “You
see this is a recipe a woman way back in the country gave me. She
never has any nuts so she uses this counterfeit, and no one ever knows
the difference.”

“What is it?” was Norma’s question, as she sniffed the mixture she was
supposed to stir to keep from scorching.

“I cracked a lot of cherry stones that came from the pitter when
Rachel canned those cherries, and the meat was soaked in a
tablespoonful of alcohol to extract the flavor. Then I took a cupful
of grape nuts cereal and soaked it in some cream. When it was soft I
added the flavoring to taste, and now you are about to brown the whole
thing in butter to keep the chopped nuts soft enough to chew like real
nut-meat when it is in the cake. See?”

“Well, I never! What a fake!” laughed Norma.

“The woman told me of all sorts of fakes the bakers do to make
customers believe they are getting first-class food stuffs. She told
me how they used egg coloring to make the cakes and things look yellow
as if plenty of eggs were used in them. Then she told me of the
substitute for milk, which many bakers used because milk costs so much
these days. Lots of them actually use a substitute for sugar and
hardly any of them use vanilla bean, or real lemon, or genuine fruit
extracts for their flavoring. It all is made of synthetic preparations
that counterfeit the real flavors and are so much cheaper.”

“Huh! That’s why it pays to cook and bake at home, isn’t it?” said
Norma.

“Yes, but even then, Norma, I found out that you have to know what you
are buying or you get a counterfeit extract or baking powder, that is
very injurious to eat. If one does not know this deception, one pays
for the real thing and doesn’t get it.”

“I think someone ought to put a stop to such things!” was Norma’s
amazed rejoinder to Belle’s disclosures.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but the food adulterers go right on
their merry way, coining money out of their poor imitation articles,
and the ignorant public go right on buying what they believe to be
pure goods. One really has to know all sorts of things these days to
keep ahead of the tricksters.”

“Well, Belle, I guess the girl scout teachings and work will turn out
housekeepers who can get ahead of any of these clever counterfeiters,
eh?” said a voice just then, as Mrs. James came in to the kitchen to
see how the cake was getting on.

The need of Norma’s assistance was soon over, for the cakes were
poured into gem pans and quickly shoved into the oven to bake. Then
Mrs. James told the girls that she had seen a tenant move in to one of
Norma’s bird-flats.

“Oh where—when?” cried Norma, rushing to the back door in order to
look out.

“A bluebird selected the flat facing the field and I saw them both
carrying material for a nest. Even the rain had no dampening effect on
their ambition to settle down in your cheese box apartment,” laughed
Mrs. James.

The other girls who were in the cellar heard the excited voice of
Norma as she talked about her new tenant, and all three dropped the
paddle and ran upstairs to watch the bird nest building.

“Hey, dere! You’se can’t stop churnin’ like dat, once you starts it
goin’!” shouted Rachel, catching hold of two of the girls just in time
to prevent their escape to the back stoop.

Belle had hurried out after Norma at the news about the bluebirds, but
Mrs. James called her back as she laughingly said: “Those nut cakes
won’t take more than a few minutes to bake and I’m here pining away
for a taste of one.”

“Oh, goodness! I forgot all about the cakes in my excitement over the
birds,” cried Belle, as she ran back to open the oven door and see how
the cakes were doing.

“I wish we had all taken the time to hang our bird houses up,”
remarked Janet, as she started for the churn again.

“Let’s do it as soon as this work is done, Janet. Sam hasn’t anything
much to do today and he can help. All those large houses are still
waiting to be hung in quiet nooks,” said Natalie.

So the remaining bird houses were placed that day and the girls felt
that the least the birds could now do was to come and live in them.
The rain ceased directly after dinner, and by two o’clock the sun
shone feebly from behind the banked-up clouds. But it was clear enough
to allow the work on the lake to continue, so the scouts from camp
came up and joined the girls from the house.

“I had an idea this morning when I pondered the hold-up this rain made
for us,” remarked Mrs. James, when all were ready to begin work. “If
we had ditched the narrow strip which is going to drain the bog out
into the little creek this rain would not have interfered with our
working on the lake hollow. We can dig on that drain now, and then the
ground in the depression will dry all the sooner.”

“That’s what we will! We’ll begin near the barn where the little creek
passes, and ditch the place deep enough to carry off all the surplus
water not standing in the marsh,” agreed Miss Mason.

No more time was lost by the scouts that day and soon they were
digging and picking and shoveling for dear life. Many willing hands
make light work, too, so the length of ground that had been left to do
when Ames stopped digging the day before, was now finished and the
last spadeful of soil was finally thrown out. Then the water that had
flooded the bog area began to run out and the workers were delighted
to think how dry the erstwhile marsh would be by the following
morning.

As they started back for the house, after completing this important
bit of work, Miss Mason said: “I tried to think of something this
morning that we might do to help complete the water garden, but I
couldn’t remember a thing. While we were digging, it came to me quite
clearly that on just such a day was a good time to take up the bushes
and young trees you wanted transplanted to the strip of ground along
the field fence. The soil will have clung to the roots and the soil
where we transplant the bushes will have been moist enough to help the
roots take hold.”

“Why can’t we go for some now?” asked Norma eagerly.

“You scouts all complained of aching backs and cramped muscles, so I
thought you would not care to work any more today,” explained Miss
Mason.

“But all my aches went away when I started to dig again,” confessed
Janet and the others admitted to the same sudden cure.

So they voted to find and dig up as many berry bushes or wild grape
vines or other fruit-bearing plants for the birds as they could find
and carry away before supper time.

Consequently, there was quite a brave showing of bushes and vines
along the fence line before twilight that evening. One of the girls
discovered a small mulberry tree which was taken up with all its
wide-spreading roots. But it took the combined help of four scouts to
carry it safely from the woodland to the field.

The scouts at the house needed no alarm clock to rouse them the next
morning, as every one was eager to see how much of the marsh had been
drained out by the ditch they had dug. Rachel said they would have
time to run out and look around before she would have breakfast ready,
so out they went—all making for one objective, the front lawn where
the marsh could best be inspected.

“Well, well! Who’d have thought a little thing like that ditch would
make such a difference!” exclaimed Norma, the first to reach the
place.

“It certainly looks encouraging, doesn’t it?” declared Janet, as she
saw the clumps of bog now sticking up without any water in sight
anywhere, excepting the tiny stream that ran from the spring in the
middle of the area.

“Girls, how far down shall we build the dam?” asked Mrs. James.

“We’ll have to put it where it will best back up the water, won’t we?”
asked Janet.

“We can build it where we like, if we want to expand our lake any
larger or longer than we had first planned for.”

“If we could have an irregular shore line on the lake, and at that end
where the dam is to be, have it taper off from a lake into something
like a natural looking stream and then place the dam almost opposite
the dining room windows so the music of the water falls will be heard
as we sit at the table, I would like that immensely,” suggested Norma.

“If we had the stream above the dam stretch along as far as that, I
see no reason why I should not have my water fowl swim and spend their
summer days in the lake. They won’t have very far to waddle to reach
the pond, if the dam is so far down towards the barn yard,” said Janet
eagerly.

Every one laughed, because Janet planned all things to fit in with her
stock’s pleasure and benefit. But Mrs. James added: “Girls, I think
Janet’s idea of having ducks and geese swimming in the stream and lake
is a good one, as live water-fowl always make the lake look more
picturesque. A swan would be entirely too large for so small a body of
water, but the ducks and geese will be just the right size.”

“You said you wanted to put goldfish in the water, but Janet’s
water-fowl will eat them up the moment they see them,” said Natalie,
grinning at her own astuteness.

“If we stock the goldfish in the lake from the first and only permit
Janet’s goslings to swim about at first the fish will get accustomed
to keeping out of their way and the goslings will not be experienced
enough to snap them up at every turn. Then the adult ducks can be
allowed to come to the lake when the fish are practiced in dodging
their natural enemies,” suggested Norma.

“Or better still, why not have Janet select ducklings instead of grown
ducks from Mr. Ames, just as she has the goslings instead of grown
geese? Then all the little things can swim about in one happy family,
and not eat each other up,” remarked Mrs. James.

“That’s just what I’ll do! I’ll have Mr. Ames exchange the six big
ducks I just bought for twenty-four ducklings, as they are four times
cheaper than a grown duck.”

“Why didn’t you take little ones, in the first place, if they are so
much cheaper. They don’t eat half as much, either?” was Norma’s
surprised question.

“Oh, but they do eat—more than big ducks. They can’t pick for
themselves and so I would have to feed them cornmeal and cracked corn.
But the main reason I chose the big ducks was because Ames said little
ducklings were so hard to raise. If I had a nice clean pond of water
where they could swim and bathe, he said it would be different, but
that ditch running past the barn, was too small and scummy for ducks,
he said. With the lake we plan to now have, the ducklings will thrive
and enjoy themselves and not be so hard to rear,” explained Janet at
length.

“You all spoke of moving the dam down to the barn to accommodate
Janet’s fowl, but I say why not let Janet move her duck and geese
coops up nearer the place where the dam had best be built, and the
water fowl will appreciate it just the same,” said Belle.

“As usual, Belle’s voice in the matter carries the vote,” laughed Mrs.
James.

“Well, then, let’s choose a site opposite the dining room window as I
suggested and dig a winding stream from the lake to the water falls,
to make it look picturesque. Then the little stream that runs from the
falls to the stream down by the woodland will take its own course in
getting there,” declared Norma.

“How high are we going to have the dam, Jimmy?” asked Frances.

“I do not know, but Mr. Ames is going to measure the highest depth of
the lake over by the pines and then gauge it from that point down to
the point opposite the dining room windows, as Norma just said. The
difference between the highest point at the pines and the lowest point
down by the ditch will be the height we must build the dam.”

“Dear me, I can see myself swinging in a hammock under those pine
trees, with a box of candy, dreaming away the hours while listening to
the musical tinkle of the water fall, eh, girls?” said Mrs. James,
clasping her hands and rolling her eyes as they had often seen Norma
do when she was particularly romantic.

The girls laughed and Janet retorted: “When anyone finds Jimmy taking
life easy, it will be time to feel her pulse and take her temperature.
Nothing but a fatal illness will ever stop her from being in six
places at one time, and superintending every one on Green Hill Farm,
while looking after her own affairs, too!”

The laugh that followed this remark was unceremoniously interrupted by
Rachel’s call to breakfast. While the girls were concentrating their
thoughts on doing full justice to Rachel’s culinary art, Sam knocked
meekly at the door that led out to the side porch.

“Come right in, Sam,” called Mrs. James, and he came in bowing
politely.

“I come to tell Miss Norma ’bout dis grass. Tompkins got dat new
lawnmower from Noo York last night, and tol’ me to say it is waitin’
foh Frances to cart home. Jus’ as soon as it ’rives, dat grass it
ought’a be mowed or it won’t be no good no more.”

“Thank you, Sam. Frances will bring the mower when she goes for the
mail and then Norma will start at once to cut the grass,” replied Mrs.
James, smiling at Sam. Having delivered his message, he bowed again
and went out.




                              CHAPTER IX

                       VARIOUS UNDESIRED TASKS.


The addition of a cow and a calf, the two swarms of bees, the goslings
and Rhode Island Red chickens increased the interest of the girls in
their farm life, but it also increased Janet’s work and
responsibilities. Then Natalie’s vegetables grew so well that lettuce
was an every-day side dish at meals now; and soon, there would be new
string beans, beet tops to cut and cook and radishes.

Meantime, Norma’s asters had recovered from their almost fatal dose of
Paris Green and the heliotrope that Mrs. Tompkins had sent the amateur
florist to replace the one she had killed with the poison was blooming
well and wafting its sweet incense upon the breezes, to be carried
everywhere about the house.

While the girls were still at breakfast, Mr. Ames drove in at the side
gate. Janet sat facing the open window and was the first to see him.

“Oh, he’s got the dump cart and old Ben!” cried she.

“He must be planning to use the cart for something,” said Norma.

But a lively breeze carried an odor far different from the heliotrope
blooming in Norma’s garden.

“Oo-oh! Close the door and windows—hurry up, Nat!” called Janet,
holding her breath while the girls ran to close the windows.

“Ames brought the compost for the water garden,” was Mrs. James
undisturbed statement.

“Of course, he had to bring it some time, but he did not have to stop
with it directly under the dining room windows,” said Natalie, in an
injured voice.

“Some one had better run out and direct him where to dump the cart
load or he will leave it right here, just as he did that other load of
fertilizer that he brought for Norma’s flower gardens,” said Belle
anxiously.

“If you girls will excuse me, I’ll go and tell him what to do with
it,” said Mrs. James, rising and going out.

Then the cart was soon rolling away from that side of the house, and
Mrs. James showed Farmer Ames where to leave the old well-rotted cow
manure that was to be thoroughly mixed with the mucky marsh soil
before spreading it out on the floor bottom of the lake.

“I brung the cart ’cause I figgered the gals would want to use the
hoss and cart to get the sand and small rocks for the garden,”
explained Ames, as he mopped his brow, after finishing his work on the
compost.

“Oh, yes, they will be glad to know they can use it,” said Mrs. James,
but at the same time she wondered how to manage so small a cart and so
many scouts—for every one of them would wish to ride and cart sand.

Mr. Ames found Sam waiting to help, so the two went to the hollow that
was to be a lake and were agreeably surprised to find the water
drained out and the bogs standing free and ready to be removed. Mrs.
James had forgotten to tell Ames what the girls had accomplished the
previous evening with work on the ditch near the barn yard.

Frances drove to Four Corners immediately after breakfast and Janet
had to take care of her stock. Natalie had to weed her garden that
morning, as she had given it no attention for the past four days and
Rachel warned her about the weeds growing higher than the corn and
beans.

It was Norma’s and Belle’s turn to milk Sue and prepare the milk for
the morning, but both the girls preferred to work on the water garden.
When Belle slipped into the kitchen to offer Rachel a quarter if she
would do the milking, Mrs. James overheard it and came out.

“No, indeed, Belle! Norma and you must do your work even if you detest
it and want to fuss around in the bog. Besides this milking, Norma has
to cut the lawns when Frances brings back the mowing machine from Four
Corners. She agreed to attend to this work, long before we dreamed of
having a water garden. So now it will have to be done, you know.”

Norma pouted but said nothing, for the fact was too obvious to be
denied. So Belle and she reluctantly went to the barn yard where Sue
waited impatiently to be milked. She had been waiting for more than an
hour already and was not apt to be very quiet during milking when she
had been kept from her cool pasture so long after sun-up.

“You start the milking, Belle, and I’ll mix the mush for her,”
suggested Norma, going to the barn to get the meal.

Belle looked for the stool but could not see it, so she grumbled to
herself: “Oh, well! I’ll milk without a seat. Sue always stands still
these days and Norma will be holding the pan of mush for her to eat,
anyway.”

Janet was very busy in the pig pen, trying to dig out a pool for her
pigs to bathe in. Now that the cement was on hand, and she had heard
how to mix concrete, she was going to build a fine bath for them. So
she merely glanced up when Belle and Norma came to the barn yard to
milk the cow.

Belle stooped upon her heels and sat the pail in position, but before
she could start milking, Sue gave a vicious kick with a hind foot and
sent the pail against the fence of the pig pen. It was badly dented
when Belle picked it up and shook it at the cow. That attracted
Janet’s attention, and she left the pool-digging and leaned on the
fence to watch her companions try to milk Sue.

Norma brought the pan of mush from the barn and hurried with it to
Sue’s nose. But Norma had not quite overcome her old timidity of a
cow, and Sue’s eyes this morning looked very suggestive of evil. Then,
too, those two horns were very long and very curved and very sharp on
the ends!

So Norma stood as far on one side as she well could and still manage
to hold out the tin pan of corn and bran meal mixed in warm water to
keep Sue in a good humor while she was being milked. Being so intent
on the cow’s next move, Norma did not notice that Belle was not seated
on the stool.

The pail was placed in position again, and Belle again squatted to
begin milking. All went well for a few minutes but a horse fly lit on
Sue’s leg and took a good hard nip out of it. Instantly the cow kicked
rebelliously and switched her tail to try and wipe the pest away. This
time the pail rolled over and the contents foamed away in a little
stream.

Janet laughed aloud and called to Belle: “Try, try again!”

“Don’t waste futile words—can’t you see that I am trying again _and
again_!”

Norma momentarily forgot her dread of Sue in watching Belle pick up
the pail and plank it down hard upon the ground, then squat to try the
milking once more. But the horse fly still clung to the cow’s leg and
kept the bovine victim aware of its presence, so that Sue finally
switched her tail fiercely and suddenly turned her head to see if she
could frighten it away by the bobbing of her horns.

This was so unexpected to Norma, that when she saw the big eyes and
lolling tongue of the cow staring her right in the face, she dropped
the pan and screamed. At the same time she tried to spring backwards
out of Sue’s reach, but stumbled over a board and measured her length
on the ground.

The switch of the tail, the banging of the tin pan, the scream of
Norma, all made Belle jump but she was squatting on her heels and
could not balance, so she went right over backwards. Janet leaned over
the fence of the pig pen and fairly screamed with mirth at the sight
of her two friends stretched out on the barn yard ground.

But Farmer Ames had sent Sam to the barn to get an extra pickaxe and
he now arrived in time to see the trouble Belle was having in trying
to milk the cow. So he sat down and in a few minutes the stream of
milk was flowing freely and the horse fly flew away to find a better
resting place without so many disturbing mortals always about.

“Now, then,” said Sam, when he had finished the task. “You gals can
lead her to pasture in the field, but be careful and not tether her
near them beehives, or she’ll get stung and run away again like she
did afore.”

With Sue secured in the pasture lot, Norma and Belle felt that the
hardest work of the day was finished. So they walked back to the house
eagerly planning for the water garden. They went in at the side door
of the porch, to get their sun bonnets, but Norma heard Frances call
out as she drove the car past the door:

“I’ve left the lawn mower out here for you, Norma! Jimmy said you were
to try and see if you can cut the lawn with it.”

“Dear me! I forgot all about the old grass! I suppose that will take
all day, now!” exclaimed Norma impatiently.

But Belle had no condolences to offer, so Norma went through the
kitchen and flew down the stoop steps to look for the new mower—_she_
called it “that _old_ mower!”

Frances had left it on the gravel path just around the corner of the
house, and Norma, in hurrying along this path, ran into it and stubbed
her toe against the wheel.

“Ouch! Who left this old machine right in my way?” she demanded
angrily as she limped over to the porch and sat on the lower step to
hold her foot and rock back and forth.

But no one heard her wail so she got up after a time and limped back
to the lawn mower. She looked it over and in spite of her annoyance,
she admitted that the machine looked very smart and capable in its
crimson paint and gold trimmings. Then she took hold of the handle and
tried to push it over to the grass.

Rachel heard the click of the knives and came to an upper window to
look out. When she saw Norma pushing the mower through the grass
without having any effect on the long blades, she called out.

“Dat hay is so long by dis time, dat it’ll take Ames’s scythe and a
day’s cuttin’ to chop it down fairly well for dat mower to go in and
cut.”

Norma now glanced up at the head stuck out of the window and said:
“Did you leave that mower right where any one could fall over it?”

“Now, Honey, I ain’t Gen’l Washerton who neber tol’ a lie—but I kin
say dis much—if it’ll help dat toe enny, I diden shove the mower in
your way, but I knows who did do it!”

“Who! I’m going to tell them what I think of them!” said Norma, with a
flushed face.

“I ain’t goin’ to tell—see!” and Rachel quickly drew her laughing face
out of sight, and Norma stood fuming for nothing.

About this time, Janet ran along the lane and called to Norma. Being
only too glad to leave the mower in the uncut grass and find an excuse
to go with Janet to help her in some work, Norma met her half way.

“Say! I just had a fine idea about the pigs’ bathing pool. If I make a
concrete bath in the present pen, I will have to keep filling it with
water every day. But if I move the pen over to the little brook, they
can swim about and bathe as much as they like, and the water will
always be clean, because it will run off continually, you see. Don’t
you think it would be a simpler matter to move the pig pen than to
carry water every day?”

“Of course, but what will you do with the pigs while you are moving
the pen and house?” asked Norma.

“Why, I won’t do anything with them, I’ll just build a new house and
pen. Jimmy thinks this one will prove to be too weak, anyway, as soon
as the pigs grow big and strong.”

“How long before that will be?” asked Norma wonderingly.

“It won’t be long now that I have started a regular course of feeding.
This morning I gave them a lot of greens from Nat’s garden—the ones my
hens scratched up, you know. Then I fed them enough corn and other
stuff to satisfy them for once. I’ve made up my mind to overfeed
rather than underfeed them, hereafter.”

“Well, I think the plan of moving the pig pen is best as long as you
say you will need a stronger house and fence in the near future,” was
Norma’s careful judgment.

“That’s what I think! Let’s go and ask Jimmy what she says about it.
I’m most anxious to give them a regular bathing pool, and if she
thinks a pen near the brook will be all right, I’m going to start it
at once,” declared Janet.

But Mrs. James vetoed the plan of having the pen on the banks of the
brook for several reasons, the principle one being: “The pigs, when
they are larger, will root in the water and burrow a hole under the
fence and get out by way of the brook. You will be in constant race to
catch them again. But you might run an iron pipe from our water falls
down to a site nearer the falls than the present pen is. That will
furnish all the water you will need in a pool. Or you can attach a
hose to the old hydrant in the barn yard and fill a concrete pool that
way.”

“Is the grass all cut, Norma,” continued Mrs. James, turning to the
girl.

“Oh, no! Rachel says it is much too long to run the mower through. I
tried it but it wouldn’t budge. Rachel says it needs a scythe and a
strong man to cut it down now as it is almost hay.”

Mrs. James smiled but said nothing, so the girls looked over the work
that Ames and Sam had accomplished since morning. As they remarked at
the amount of bog and muck that had been taken up out of the hollow,
Mrs. James added:

“Yes, and you girls can mix it with the cow manure if you have nothing
else to do. I was about to go for the wheel-barrow and bring a load of
the compost to the first little heap of muck.”

“What shall we mix with it?” asked Belle, and Norma said: “What shall
we use?”

“One of you can borrow Ames’s fork while the other goes for our own
digging fork in the barn. I will wheel as much of the fertilizer as is
meant to be mixed in one of the pyramids of marsh muck, and one of you
can fork it in thoroughly. The next load I will wheel to the second
heap of muck and then the other girl can mix the two fertilizers
together. In this way, we ought to be through with all the different
heaps that Ames is shoveling up on the bank by the time he is finished
cleaning out the swamp.”

Janet and Norma had not hankered for this particular kind of
gardening, but they liked it better than doing some tiresome task that
had become monotonous because of daily repetition. Norma was forking
over the muck with an earnest goodwill when the cries from Janet
caused every one on the farm to race for the barn yard to find out
what dire thing had happened there.

This was the time Janet discovered Seizer, one of the three little
pigs dead from overeating and the tomato vines she had fed them that
morning.

It took a full hour to calm Janet’s regrets and cries, but the
distressing circumstance cooled the girls’ ardent eagerness to finish
the water garden that day without fail.

When Farmer Ames laid aside his tools that evening, however, and went
to get Ben and the cart, he said to Mrs. James: “Well, it looks as if
that work would be finished tomorrow!”

This was so encouraging to Norma that she began to reconsider her
recent hasty decision that flower gardening was a waste of time unless
one had money and help to do the work right.

Directly after supper, that evening, Norma sat down to write a few
lines home. The other girls were planning to do likewise for each one
needed money to conduct her business undertaking.

“Dear Mother and Father:” Norma began.

Then she sat chewing the end of the pen holder and frowned at the road
in front of the house. The sight must have been inspiring, for a
moment later she resumed her writing and kept steadily on until the
letter was finished.

She told her parents of the coming of Sam and his dog; of the drive
across country in search of a cow, and how they got one from Miss
Jipson, and how the man Folsom tricked them with little Susy, but how
Mrs. James squared accounts with him afterward.

She used several sheets of paper to tell how Janet’s chickens escaped
and dug up Natalie’s precious vegetables and how Rachel fooled Janet
into believing the old Leghorn hens were laying eggs every day, while
all this time Sam was sent regularly to put the eggs from the farmer
in the nests. Then she described how Janet thought she had poison-ivy
rash all over her, but discovered it was all the fault of the chicken
lice that infested her hens, and on the brood hen she had handled so
much.

The scratching pen had moved rapidly across the sheets of paper while
Norma smilingly told these stories of Janet and Natalie, but when she
began to describe some of her own woes in flower gardening, she lost
her smile and trouble sat heavily upon her brow. She told how she
killed her best heliotrope plant by using four times the strength of
poison to kill the bugs; how the dog planted his old bones in the
finest seedling bed and half of the shoots were rooted out; how
Janet’s hens dug up the rest of them the morning they escaped from
Natalie’s vegetable gardens. The most recent complaint was the lawn
grass. It grew so fast and shot up so tall that no mower was yet made
that could plow through it. Norma did not add here that she had
postponed mowing the lawns for more than a week, because she was so
interested in landscaping the strip of ground beside the fence and
making a water garden.

The story of Seizer’s sudden death and the cause of it, followed next
in order, but scanty room was given to the account of Janet’s violent
grief and the funeral she insisted upon having. She wrote the minutest
description of how she helped ditch the bog and drain the spring water
away from the lake. And how they prepared the rich soil that was going
to be spread over the bottom of the lake to grow the lilies, iris and
lotus, as well as other water plants. The islands, the bridges and the
rocks were described and then followed the glad news that Mr. Ames
thought the work would be completed in another day.

Just as Norma was going to end her letter she remembered she had said
nothing of the bird houses and bees which played an important part in
her flower gardening. But she mentioned the facts and said she would
tell them all about the bird flats when next she wrote. As usual, she
signed herself a loving daughter, then she added a postscript—to her
the most important part of the letter:

“P. S.—Got Daddy’s check. Many thanks. Can use another soon, for my
plants for fall and next spring planting.”




                              CHAPTER X

                     THE WATER GARDEN COMPLETED.


Farmer Ames brought another cartload of manure the next morning, so
the muck heaps could all be mixed and finished that day. The scouts
from camp had asked to be allowed to help the work along this last
day, and Mrs. James gladly accepted their offers.

Breakfast was early, so a long day could be given to the various tasks
to be done before the water could be turned into the reservoir. The
cement was waiting beside a wooden trough that Sam had quickly
constructed, the gravel that had been carted the day before was in a
pile, and the sand for the concrete work had also been brought from
the pit down the road.

Mr. Ames had selected such lumber at the barn as he could use and
hitched the boards to Ben’s harness; the horse was driven over to the
site for the new dam and the planks were then roughly framed up to
make two standing partitions with about a foot of space between.

As breakfast was over at such an early hour, Rachel felt justified in
taking the spare time to visit the scene of work, and give her opinion
on the water garden which was to be. She stood with her hands on her
large hips and surveyed the wide depression for a while, then spoke to
Mrs. James and any one who was concerned.

“’Pears to me you-all is goin’ to a hull lot of trouble jus’ to fill
dis holler wid water. Diden you-all know dat you cud stop up the crick
down by the barn and back all the water you want into this place?”

“But the reeds and briars had to be removed, Rachel,” said Mrs. James.

“Jus’ chop ’em down wid a sickle—da’s all,” was the lofty reply.

“We had to get the roots out, too,” added Mrs. James.

“Diden you know dey woul’ rot ef dey was under water a long time?”
asked the maid, with astonishment at such ignorance.

“They would sprout before they would decay, and we had to clean off
the bog so the roots would come out with the marsh muck,” was Mrs.
James’s patient reply.

Rachel made no further comment for she was too intent on watching the
girls carrying the well-mixed soil from the banks back into the hollow
again. Here they carefully spread out the enriched soil to the depth
of about twenty inches.

“Well—sus!” ejaculated Rachel. “Dem gals is carryin’ all dat muck back
where Ames tuk it from all dis week!”

“It has been so thoroughly mixed with manure that it is now ready to
use for plants. All the roots and rocks have been cleared out of it
while it was spread out upon the banks.”

Rachel felt that her valuable advice had been ignored in this
direction, so she walked along until she came to the piles of rocks.
Some had been rolled into place where they were to be left, but many
were piled up waiting to be artistically arranged in various spots.

“I ain’t never hear tell of plantin’ rocks fer a garden, but nuttin’
is queer dese days, ’cause the hull world is gone clean crazy!”
commented Rachel scornfully.

Norma and Natalie overheard her remark and laughed. Then Rachel looked
back at Mrs. James and said: “I s’pose growin’ rocks is one of dese
gals’ crazes—and you let ’em do such stunts?”

“You wait until the garden is finished and then judge if the rocks
look crazy where we intend putting them,” laughed Mrs. James, hoping
to quiet Rachel’s fault-findings.

But the maid took offense at being told to waive judgment for the time
being and turned away to stride back to the house without another word
or look for the gardeners.

There was too much to be done, however, for anyone to pay the least
attention to Rachel’s wounded pride, and soon the scouts were bustling
about like bees at a hive. The wooden mold, or frame, for the dam was
completed and Ames now gave his attention to the islands.

“You show me about where you want them made,” said he to Norma and
Mrs. James. “I sent Sam to the barn to bring some more small boards
for more frame-ups.”

The three most interested ones now descended to the floor of the
hollow and prospected carefully before locating the main island which
was to be in the wildest part of the pool. The distance from the bank
to the desired spot, had to be taken into consideration, as the rustic
bridge must not have piers or supports in the center of it—the
foundations on either end were to be sufficient to uphold it. When the
location was finally decided upon, Mr. Ames drove his crowbar into the
hard ground to mark the site.

The sites for the two smaller islands were next considered and
located, before the farmer paid any attention to Sam who had been
trying to attract notice from the three in the depression.

“Now—whad do you want?” bawled Farmer Ames, going toward Sam as he
spoke.

“I ain’t found no board what’s big enough for making islands,” shouted
Sam.

“I told you to fetch all the strong boards you could find, ’cause I’ll
make them big enough!”

Sam went back to do as he was told, and Mr. Ames came up out of the
hollow to start mixing the materials for the concrete. The scouts all
stood around during this interesting process, as they wished to learn
how to do the work in order to be able to build whatever they needed
in the future.

A temporary floor of heavy planks was laid and upon this the farmer
proposed mixing the cement. He took a bag of cement, added a barrow
full of fine sand, another barrow full of gravel and scrap junk,—such
as bits of iron, trap-rock, slate and other hard sharp splinters—and
mixed all thoroughly together. Before he began adding water to this
preparation, he called to Sam to carry the boards he had brought from
the barn down to the place where the largest island was to be built.

A number of boards were adjusted to form a frame about the size of the
basis for the island, and these were braced and fastened in place to
keep them from being pushed outwards once the concrete was poured into
the mold. Then the farmer called to Sam to help him in mixing the
cement and other materials. The water was slowly added and Sam kept
mixing with a steel hoe, until the composition was the required
consistency to easily pour.

When Mr. Ames gave the word, every one helped filling buckets and pans
and boxes and carrying them over to the island. They were quickly
emptied into the large mold, and the scouts ran back for more
concrete. Here and there Mr. Ames pressed a rock or a number of
smaller stones into the soft preparation, and as this hardened and
set, the rocks became embedded as firmly as if cast that way by
Nature.

When the concrete reached the top edge of the board mold Mr. Ames
topped it off with a rim of rocks, and into this hollowed center, more
concrete was poured until the mold was filled still higher. Its full
height from the floor of the basin now reached to about thirty inches,
and this was considered high enough. The large rocks were now placed
as Mrs. James directed, so that the effect was one of Nature’s
handiworks. In between the crevices and hollows made by the large and
jagged rocks, the soil would be filled when the concrete was set. And
in this soil the vines and plants or shrubs would be planted.

The side of the island nearest the shore had been kept smooth and flat
as the concrete rose higher about the rocks, and upon this wide flat
wall the end of the rustic bridge was to be laid.

The two smaller islands were now formed in the same way, Mrs. James
being careful to superintend the sides which had to be left smooth for
the bridges to rest upon.

It took all morning and into the middle of the afternoon to finish the
concrete work on the islands, but once they were done, the scouts felt
that the hardest part of the water gardening was completed. Mr. Ames
then began work on the concrete dam, but was concerned to discover
that all the sand had been used for the islands.

“Somebody’s got to drive Ben to the sand pit and fetch a load of sand
for the dam. And then git more for the covering of that soil, ’cause
you said you wanted at least an inch of white sand spread over the
muck to keep the water clear and clean,” said Farmer Ames.

“Let me drive Ben and get the sand!” exclaimed Janet.

“Norma and you can drive Ben, and we girls will use the car to reach
the place. Then all hands can shovel and fill the cart the sooner. We
can then fill baskets or bags and put them in the car and bring them
here to help out for the concrete work. By that time you can have Ben
back at the pit again, and fill the cart a second time,” suggested
Frances eagerly.

This was a very good plan and the scouts all approved heartily of it,
especially so because it offered a possibility of sport. So Norma and
Janet climbed to the seat of the cart and made Ben quit his feast on
the luscious lawn grass.

Mr. Ames stood smiling while he watched the merry scouts jump into the
automobile and call for Frances to hurry and get off. Then he turned
to Janet who was chirping to Ben to make him go faster to keep up with
the car.

“If you saw away at Ben’s mouth like that he will balk and never move
a step. He knows a woman is drivin’ when you do that way, and he takes
a mean advantage of you for it,” laughed Ben’s owner, as the two girls
in the cart endeavored to inspire the easy-going horse with more
ambition.

Then he turned to Mrs. James and said: “While I have to wait for that
sand, Sam and I may as well begin placing the posts for the bridge
ends. I brought my post-hole digger over this morning in case we had a
need of boring holes in the ground.”

Mrs. James had never seen a post-hole digger at work, so she watched
curiously while the wonderful tool bored the holes the required size
of the posts. It worked after the manner of an augur, but it bored the
hole in the ground instead of through wood. The holes were made so
rapidly that Mrs. James was amazed, and Mr. Ames laughed at her
expression.

“I don’t s’pose anyone brought the railroad ties I told you of the
other day?” ventured Farmer Ames.

“Yes, Si Tompkins had them given him by the station agent who said he
was glad to have them moved out of his way. He even offered to help
get them over to the farm, as they had cluttered the ground ever since
the new ties had been laid down a few months ago. So they were left by
the fence just outside the front gate,” explained Mrs. James.

Ames and Sam then brought in several posts—or ties—and fixed them
securely in the holes; earth and gravel were tamped down in the holes,
and when it was well filled, the posts were as firm as if they had
grown there.

Still no sight nor sound of the cart with sand could be had, so Mrs.
James suggested that Ames and Sam help her build an artistic flight of
steps from the clump of pines down to the place where the bridge would
span the water to the first island.

As there were enough railroad ties for this purpose, as well as for
bridge supports, Mrs. James felt that she need not stint herself in
the use of them. So she marked out the line she wished the steps to
follow. They were to curve gracefully down to approach the bridge
indirectly, and not straight down from the high knoll of pine trees to
the lake edge.

Sam and Mr. Ames cut out the solid ground where the steps were to be
set, beginning at the bottom near the bridge posts. The ties were set
for treads, the flat side facing upward and when it was fitted in
place, Sam took it up again while Ames poured a smooth foundation of
concrete on the ground. Then the log was replaced and pressed down to
make the cement bite into the rough wood. At the final securing of
each log, enough concrete was filled in back of it, to form a solid
wall of cement when it hardened, and this made the basis of the back
of the step, or riser, for the next tread.

As Mrs. James wanted the steps to be shallow in order to use the more
and curve the flight more artistically before coming to the bridge, it
was easier to build the concrete risers at the back of each log. The
moment the two men had finished with a step, Mrs. James carried large
stones and rocks to the spot and pressed them firmly in at the sides
where the concrete oozed up and out, and these would not only keep the
logs from loosening and moving out of position, but also help the
rustic appearance of the entire flight. Back of these rocks she
purposed having vines and shrubs to grow and droop over the rocks and
ends of the logs.

The building of the picturesque steps took the rest of the afternoon,
and when Mrs. James realized how late it was, with no report from the
sand-diggers, she began to feel anxious about them.

Then, just as she ordered Sam to hurry away and learn what had
happened to detain them, the car came in sight, far down the road.

“Oh, Jimmy! Such a time as we have had with that Ben!” exclaimed
Norma, the moment the girls were within calling distance.

Mrs. James, Ames and Sam stood leaning over the fence, anxiously
awaiting further news, but so many scouts wanted to tell the story
that nothing could be made of the account. Finally Norma was appointed
to tell the experiences, so she began.

“All the way to the sand pit that lazy Ben had to be coaxed and
_coaxed_, because he kept turning his head backward to look at the
lawn just as long as the place was in sight. Then he got a little pep
into his ‘Amity Ketchum manners’ and gamboled for a little distance.”
The laughter which greeted Norma’s description of Ben’s style of
laziness interrupted her for a moment.

“Well, after all the scouts had been digging sand and filling every
receptacle we had taken with us Ben arrived at the pit. We began
filling the cart and soon had it full, but then he refused to start
back. We coaxed and pulled and pushed with might and main, but all to
no good. Ben just stood and _balked_.

“Then Janet got a willowy hickory and cracked him soundly to induce
him to change his mind. He started suddenly and ran three paces, and
as suddenly stopped short, almost breaking my neck, because I was
driving. I was sitting on top of the sand heaped in the cart and at
the sudden start and stop, a lot of the sand slid off the back of the
cart, toppling me backwards with it.

“Of course, I let go of the reins and will you believe it! At the
moment Ben felt the reins dangle about his feet he gave a jump that
rolled more sand, and me with it right off the back of the cart into
the road. Then he galloped on down the road with no one driving, or to
stop him.

“Frances jumped in her automobile and started to speed after Ben. She
never waited for any one of the scouts to jump in to help coax Ben
back to duty again, but tore along the road until she had passed him
and then turned to block the road with the car.

“Ben must have laughed in his sleeve—or whatever a nag uses for a
covert laugh—when he saw Frances waiting for him. He stopped where he
was, turned about so abruptly that the cart upset and almost threw him
from his feet, too.

“Now there he was! The cart couldn’t right itself, and he wouldn’t
budge again to try to turn it right side up. The whole side road was
blocked by the cart and horse so that Frances could not pass the
obstruction and come back for us to help turn the cart up again. So
she had to _walk_ back to call on us to go and help Ben out of his
troubles.

“All the sand was dumped when the cart went over, so we led Ben back
to the sand pit and filled the cart again. This time the horse made no
attempt at balking, but started humbly along the road until we came
out on the main road. He ambled slowly along and we were all rejoicing
in the vain belief that soon we would be at Green Hill, with enough
sand for you to work with, while we could return to the pit for
another load.

“But Ben knew of a nice ford down by the wooden bridge, and before I
knew that he intended turning down there for a drink, he had left the
main road and was descending the steep bank. I tried to keep my
balance on the sand pile in the cart, but the unexpected angle made me
slide and I alighted on Ben’s broad back instead of remaining seated
where I had been.

“A great deal of the sand slid out and fell into the stream, when Ben
tilted the cart so sharply on the bank. I wish you could have heard
those unsympathetic scouts laugh when they came up in the car and saw
me straddling Ben and clutching on to his old harness for all I was
worth!”

The scouts shouted with laughter at remembrance of the funny sight,
and the three adults who had anxiously awaited the coming of the
sand-diggers, also laughed heartily at Norma’s story.

“But that is not all, Jimmy! When Ben finished drinking he refused to
go on again. We began coaxing and threatening again, but all to no
avail. So there we were. I could not slide back to the cart because I
would have fallen into the water. And Ben would not go on, because he
liked the running water about his feet. The girls could not help us
because the cart was pitched at such an angle that the least shove to
urge Ben onward would have thrown it over again and perhaps thrown Ben
and me with it.

“Suddenly Frances had a brilliant idea—or she thought it was. She
drove the car across the bridge and then backed it down the other side
of the ford until it reached the water. Then she carefully steered
until it should reach Ben’s nose. It was her plan to tie a rope to
Ben’s head and let the scouts in the back seat hold the leading hold.
Then start the car up the slope on the side opposite Ben, and thus
haul him across the stream whether he wanted to go or not.

“Well! Ben would not budge, but the car did. And both the scouts who
held for dear life to the end of the rope in order to drag Ben along,
were dragged half way out of the car and were left dangerously near to
being pulled over into the water, but they let go of the rope. It had
stripped the skin from their palms, and left Ben just where he had
been before the attempt at coercion had been made.

“After a conference held with the girls in the car and me seated on
Ben’s back eager to abdicate in honor of anyone who wanted my throne,
Frances said we would have to use the chain and tackle which had been
left in the box under the rear seat of the automobile. This could be
hooked to the cart and then the cart would start through the ford,
dragging the cart upon Ben’s heels so that he would _have_ to move!

“Just as we had everything ready to give the signal for the engine to
be started, Ben suddenly reconsidered his ultimatum and started
through the water of his own accord.

“But the chain pulled the cart so far off his proposed trail that the
rear wheel clutched with the rear side wheel of the car, and there we
were, hard and fast, with Ben trying to go forward and only causing
the wheels to lock the tighter. Frances had to get out of the car,
into the stream, and get hold of Ben’s bit to try and back him again.
Meantime I took advantage of my golden opportunity and jumped from my
perch into the front seat of the automobile.

“Well, Jimmy! Had it not been for a nice good man who drove past in
his runabout at this time, we would still be marooned in the creek.
But, thank goodness, here we are with as much sand in the cart as
could stand all this pitching and sliding.”

When Norma ended her tale, Mrs. James and her companions laughed
heartily at the tricks played by Ben. Mr. Ames laughed loudest of any,
because he understood his horse so well. But enough sand was brought
in to supply the first mixture of concrete in the morning, and Mr.
Ames promised to furnish a bait for Ben to prevent another such delay
in carting more sand.

The next morning when Ames appeared with Ben and another cart full of
manure for the lake soil, he also produced a feed bag of oats. “If Ben
acts up again, just hold this bag under his nose and he will go for
it. Don’t let him get any, but just tease him along the road until you
bring him where he is to stop.”

“My goodness!” laughed Frances. “Do you have to get out and walk ahead
of him when you are alone and he balks?”

“He never balks when I drive. He seems to know the minute a female
gets hold of the reins and then he balks,” explained Ames.

So the scouts started for the sand pit again, but Ben was on his good
behavior that day, and no one needed to use the oats bag under his
nose to induce him to run. In fact, he was over-eager to reach the
farm when the girls were ready to return, and all the sand piled up
high on the cart was thrown off before the horse turned in at the side
gate of Green Hill.

When Mrs. James took account of stock of sand, she said: “We will save
time and labor by leaving Ben to mow the grass on the lawns, and use
the baskets and the empty cement bags to bring in the sand in the
automobile.” So another load was brought in that fashion, always
carefully protecting the inside of the car by covering it well with
old sheets and newspapers to keep it clean.

The concrete work of the dam was now finished and left to harden
within the side walls of timber. Farmer Ames had made a door opening
at the bottom of the wall so the water could be drained out of the
lake at any time. Now he devoted all of his time, and thought, to the
building of a good stout door for this opening, and had Sam help him
build two grooves in which it was to slide. When this particular kind
of work was finished, Sam was sent to the store at Four Corners for a
heavy chain and rings, such as were generally used to hold a bull in
the pasture lot. Ring bolts and screws and nuts had been brought from
Ames’ own tool house that day. So that afternoon the sliding door of
the dam was completed and hung so that it was readily raised and
lowered at will. The heavy chain was secured to a sturdy chestnut post
set in concrete at one side of the dam, and Mrs. James was shown just
how to use the outfit that worked the door at the bottom of the dam.

While Ames and Sam had been making the door of the dam, the scouts had
dug up various shrubs and plants in the woods and had planted them in
groups about the lake shore. Mrs. James and Miss Mason had turned
their attention to finding and digging up small pines, spruce and
cedars, and bringing them to the garden where they were planted in the
heavy metal pails and sunken in between the rocks on the islands, and
at various places on shore.

Most of the planting and arrangement of rocks and other picturesque
details was now completed, and all the following day was to be devoted
to the construction of the bridges. For this purpose, the heavy planks
that had been used in the molds for the concrete, were to be utilized
for the flooring of the bridges. The largest planks for the longest
bridge and the other shorter boards for the smaller and shorter
bridges.

The rustic rails and decorative brackets for the bridges were to be
made of knotty pine or cedar trees found in the woods.

As the next day would be Saturday, the enthusiastic lake gardeners
were very anxious to have the work all completed and the water
diverted into the lake proper, so it might fill up by Sunday, when Mr.
Marvin and their parents were expected to motor to the farm for a
short visit.

It was dark on Friday night, before the scouts could be persuaded to
stop work and come in for supper. Rachel had called many times, that
everything was being ruined by waiting so long for someone to eat
supper, but such warning had no effect until night virtually halted
all further work.

While talking eagerly, as they all sat about being served by the
attentive Rachel, one of the scouts spoke of the time it would need to
find proper trees and then cut them down and lop off the branches to
leave a rustic effect on the trunks.

“What a pity we don’t know of a rustic furniture maker where we might
be able to buy our material ready trimmed,” said Norma, thoughtfully.

At this suggestion, Mrs. James sprang up and ran over to her desk. She
hastily scanned the pages of a Business Directory for White Plains,
and then laughed joyfully. “I’ve found it!”

The girls waited eagerly for her to explain. “I’ve found the name and
address of a man who builds rustic lawn furniture to order. He is
located at North White Plains, and his shop is back of his home, so
that I can telephone him now and find out if he can supply us with any
such material as we want for our bridges. If he can, Frances can drive
me over there early in the morning and we can carry back as much as
will go in the car.”

“I’ll see to it that all we may have need of will go in the car, all
right!” declared Frances, to the satisfaction of her audience.

Mrs. James soon had the man on the wire and told him what was needed
at once, for the bridges. He replied that he had had a new supply of
rustic wood delivered the day before, and he was sure that everything
she desired in the way of posts for the hand-rails, large brackets to
fasten to the supporting posts underneath the foot-bridge, and also
all kinds of trim for the edges and ends of the bridge, could be found
in the carload which came from the pine forests in Middle New York
State.

This was such encouraging news that the scouts could not restrain
themselves, and such a babel followed that Rachel ran from the room
with both hands placed over her ears. When she reached the kitchen
where Sam sat eating his supper, she said: “My sakes! Them scouts is
enough to make me deef!”




                              CHAPTER XI

                    THE JOY OF GOOD CONSTRUCTION.


Mrs. James and Frances drove away from Green Hill early on Saturday
morning and reached the manufacturer of rustic garden furniture before
eight o’clock. The materials needed were quickly selected and
purchased, and the man had his men carry it to a small auto truck and
load it. He had expected to deliver it at the farm without delay, so
Mrs. James said nothing about taking any with her in the touring car.

The man supplied the right kind of nails to be used on the wood,
because he said: “You will find it difficult to drive ordinary nails
through the resinous wood. But this kind of nail is made on purpose
for such work.”

It took all day with every one working breathlessly, to complete the
bridges and other work that remained to be done. But once the
picturesque bridges were finished, and a few tubs of hydrangeas placed
at each end of the bridges, they added so much to the beauty of the
picture that no one begrudged the work they had caused.

“Well, gals! Are we ready to remove the temporary block we made at the
spring to turn the water down the other way?” called Mr. Ames from the
side of the spring where the ditch had thus far kept the lake hollow
dry.

“Oh, wait just a minute!” cried Norma, as she hurriedly ran from one
island to the other to make sure that the plants were well in the
soil. Mrs. James and Miss Mason assured themselves that the water
plants were safely planted wherever they had designed them to be. Then
the footprints left in the white sand that covered the rich soil on
the bottom of the lake site, were carefully raked out and patted down,
as the three inspectors backed out and reached the steps that led down
from the pines.

“Now—all ready! Let it come!” cried Norma, clapping her hands
excitedly.

Sam and Ames now shovelled away the temporary bank of soil that had
kept the stream from overflowing, and in a few moments the wooden gate
which served as a dam for the spring, was hauled up and the water was
allowed to find its own channel out over the smooth sand in the bottom
of the depression.

Every one stood breathlessly watching, as the small stream of water
trickled out over the glistening sand and began spreading in every
direction. It seemed to take such a long time to dampen the sand
before sinking down into the soil. But not a sign of water was to be
seen and the scouts finally grew impatient.

“If you gals would only go off and attend to something else for the
day, you’d be surprised when you come back tonight, to find what the
spring has done during your absence,” advised Mr. Ames.

“Because ‘a watched kettle never boils,’” laughed Miss Mason.

“But there isn’t anything interesting to do!” declared Natalie.

“I know of a vegetable garden that has been neglected all week, and we
need lots of food for tomorrow,” remarked Mrs. James.

“And I can tell of a camp where no work has been done since this
absorbing water garden was started,” added Miss Mason.

“Don’t remind me of a barn yard where cattle are starving for lack of
attention!” laughed Janet, starting away to do the chores required of
a stock grower.

Norma alone remained after every one else had gone to their individual
tasks, and after sweeping the log steps clean with an old broom that
had been used about the lake, she walked slowly away from the
fascinating scene, going backwards to be able to watch the trickling
water from the spring just as long as she could.

Mr. Ames was hitching Ben to the cart when Norma reached the lawn. She
stumbled in the rank growth of grass and said: “Mr. Ames, can’t you
spare me a few more hours this afternoon, to mow down this hay? I
can’t make the mower run through it, and it really is a shame to leave
it this way for Sunday, when all the folks are expected from the
city.”

“If I only had the scythe here I could stop and cut it, but it takes
Ben so long to go home and back again.”

“I’ll send Frances over with the car—just wait until I ask Jimmy if it
will be all right.” So saying Norma raced away.

Frances had already brought the car out of the barn in order to drive
to the post office and bring Mrs. Tompkins back with the extra plants
she had promised Norma and Mrs. James. So she willingly drove Norma to
Ames’ farm to get the scythe. When the farm hand went to get it, he
asked Norma:

“Do you want the single or double-handed blade?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Jim, so I’ll take them both,” was Norma’s
answer.

On the way back to Green Hill, Norma explained to Frances: “I’m glad I
took both, because now Sam can use one while Ames uses the other
scythe.”

Frances laughed and replied: “We ought to have a dozen at work in
order to get that lawn down to a decent growth again.”

“Leave all joking aside, Frans, don’t you believe Si Tompkins will
loan us his scythe to use for a few hours? Ask him, anyway, and I’ll
try my hand at it. I can swing it first class, Mr. Ames says.”

So Frances promised to do her best in coaxing the store keeper to loan
her the scythe, although he had sworn never to let it go out of his
hands again, as it always came back with nicked edges and broken end,
so that it needed grinding anew at his expense.

When the car returned from Four Corners, Norma found not only a scythe
and a hand sickle in the car, but Mrs. Tompkins had been able to
secure a goodly sized mulberry tree with all the soil packed about the
roots, and two smaller Russian mulberry trees. She also had several
other desirable shrubs and trees for planting about the lakeside or by
the fence that divided the pasture from the house garden.

Mrs. James and Norma assisted Mrs. Tompkins in planting the trees and
shrubs and then Norma went over to help Sam and Mr. Ames in cutting
the grass. Frances had brought the hand sickle for her own use,
thinking it would be great sport to swing the blade as she had seen
Ames do.

Norma soon had the trick of using the large scythe, but she had not
the strength of muscle to swing it properly and prevent the blade from
cutting in irregularly. Thus, when her work was finished the grass
looked as if it had been hacked off by a dull-toothed rake, while
Ames’ and Sam’s grass was evenly cut and trimmed.

“There now, Norma! I reckon you can run the lawn mower over this
grass, all right,” declared the farmer, when the lawns had been cut
down.

“We’ll try it before you leave,” retorted Norma, sending Sam for the
mower without delay.

This time Norma found the lawn mower ran nicely and easily through the
grass, cutting and tossing the tiny green blades in every direction.
This was fascinating employment because it was quickly done and not
laborious, so she kept on mowing long after Mr. Ames had gone, and Sam
had been sent to milk the cow for the evening.

The three large lawns were mowed close that evening, before Norma was
called to supper. Mrs. Tompkins had taken the scythe and sickle and
was driven home again by Frances; the shrubs and trees the florist had
brought to the farm made a fine showing as they stood outlined against
the pale rose-tinted western sky.

So completely absorbed had every one been in the individual tasks
assigned them that none had time to go and visit the lake and learn
how much water had poured into the basin to make a showing for the
morrow. But the scouts from camp came up to the house about eight
o’clock Saturday evening and announced that they had come “to sound
the depths of the sea.”

In another moment, every girl had scampered from the side porch and
was running to the front of the house to have a look at the lake.

“Did you ever! The water has actually soaked through the soil at the
bottom and is almost an inch above the sand!” exclaimed Norma,
joyously, as she danced up and down at the revelation.

“Let’s see—how many hours did it take to do that?” said Janet, trying
to figure out how much water they might look for by morning.

“You can’t judge that way, ’cause you don’t know how long it took to
soak through the soil, nor how much water that soil displaces,” said
Norma very wisely.

“Better let the water do its work while we curb our impatience about
it,” advised Mrs. James laughingly.

“But do you think the water will be as high as the dam before the
folks arrive, Jimmy?” asked Norma anxiously.

“I should say it will,” was Mrs. James’s guarded answer.

“Too bad we haven’t any goldfish to put in now,” sighed Janet.

“So your ducklings and goslings could feast,” laughed Belle.

“No, but I’ve got a big surprise for you all tomorrow when the lake is
ready,” was Janet’s reply.

“I know! She has a gondola ‘boat-bird’ to sail about the lake,” teased
Miss Mason, who had read the story of the “boat-bird” written about
the East Side children of New York.

In spite of all the coaxings Janet refused to share her secret, but
told them all to wake up early enough in the morning to see the
surprise she had ready for them.

They all walked slowly back to the porch after this, and having had
such a strenuous day’s work, no one objected when Mrs. James suggested
that they retire early that night.

Unknown to the other girls, Janet had taken Rachel’s alarm clock and
set it to ring half an hour before the usual time. The clock was
placed under her pillow so its alarm, in the morning, would be muffled
enough to prevent the other sleepers from rousing.

Hence she was up and out before any one else in the house awoke. And
she had managed to get Sam out of bed, in order to have him help her
in finishing the surprise she had planned for every one. Two very good
and fanciful coops had been made by Janet, at odd times during the
week, the trimming and fancy touches being of rustic woodwork similar
to the trim on the bridges, the difference being that Janet’s trim was
of wild grapevine that twisted and curled artistically and the thin
bark of which made it look much daintier than that of cedar or pine.

Sam helped to convey these two elaborate coops from the barn over to
the shore near the dam where the day before Janet had cleared two
places and poured soft concrete over the ground to make a dry floor
for the coops to stand upon. They were both delighted to find the
water had filled the lake. Janet told Sam to go back to the barn with
her and help carry the goslings and ducklings to their new palatial
residences.

As the little fellows had been shut in since their evening meal, they
were clamoring for something to eat when Janet and Sam reached the old
coops. It did not take long to coax them into a box with a hole made
in the cover, for the corn meal they sniffed inside the box made them
fight to get out of the coop and into the boxes. They were then
speedily carried over to the new houses where plentiful breakfasts of
mush and cracked corn were spread in the little lath-fenced yards, and
here they were left to enjoy life.

Janet and Sam stood back to watch what the little water fowl would do
when they went prospecting outside of the coops. The breakfast kept
many too busy for a time to indulge in any curiosity, but a few ducks
wandered forth and went bobbing their heads towards the lake.

Janet tiptoed anxiously after them, and when the little ducklings
launched themselves forth upon the surface of the water, Janet almost
screamed with delight. They looked so pretty and were so in keeping
with the entire scene that even Sam laughed and rubbed his hands with
satisfaction.

“Dear me, I wish I could wait to see the geese go swimming, too,”
cried Janet, longingly. “But I’ve got to run to the house and get the
rest out of bed to make them come and see the lake!”

“I’ll wait here, Janet, and see dat no harm comes to our birds,” said
Sam, sitting down on a stump to wait and watch.

“All right, Sam—I’ll be back in a little while. I’ll get the girls to
come out to the pines on the knoll and there they can see the whole
effect, with the fowl on the lake,” cried Janet, starting to run back
the way she came by way of the barn.

“Why don’t you cross the bridge, Janet, and save time!” called Sam,
wondering at her preference.

“Oh! So I can! I forgot all about that bridge, Sam!” laughed Janet,
turning and running for the little bridges which had not been walked
upon since the water began flooding into the lake. So Janet was the
first foot passenger to cross them.

She reached the center of the large bridge and stood to have a look
over the scene and see how her water fowl looked as they played about
in the water at the lower end of the lake. The whole picture as it
appeared from the pretty bridge, so filled Janet with joy and
excitement that she couldn’t bear to lose another moment from calling
her friends to come out and see the entire scene.

Soon after Janet had left the house, after rousing Sam, Mrs. James
heard a strange sound in her sleep. As it was near her usual rising
time, she awoke and turned over to listen. Her room was directly over
the dining room so the windows overlooked the dam.

She sat up in bed with hearing strained, to determine what that
unfamiliar sound could be when suddenly it dawned upon her that it was
the water that fell from the top of the dam to the log and concrete
base on the ground.

In another second, she was out of bed and over by a window. Then the
sight that met her eager eyes was so beautiful that she drew in her
breath suddenly with a gasping sound. She forgot the girls in her
satisfaction over the demonstration made by the lake. It was so much
more beautiful than she had pictured it would be, that it really
seemed like a vision to her.

Then she remembered how delighted the girls would be to see this
wonderful result of their labors and persistent work. So she ran and
called Norma first, then Natalie and next Janet—but Janet was out and
gone! Then she remembered what had been said about a secret surprise
to be sprung on them that morning.

Norma and Natalie both rushed to the window at the same time, Frances
and Belle following to take their places at the other window. For a
few moments not a word was said because the four girls were so
astonished at the beautiful view before them. Then there was a chorus
of excited girlish voices, and Norma rushed away to dress and hurry
down to the lakeside.

Janet came in before the girls were dressed and urged them to hurry
and see what she had done to surprise them all. But Norma said
impatiently: “Can’t you see how we are racing to get on our things! My
fingers are so trembly I can’t button a single dud!”

Janet laughed and helped her fasten her clothes, then the two ran
downstairs and out to the pines. Here the others soon joined them, and
all stood gazing in rapt admiration at the sheet of water which was
the result of landscaping—thus turning an unsightly marsh and briar
patch into this most picturesque lake.

The girls crossed and recrossed the bridges, often stopping midway on
them to gaze and admire, over and over again, the results of their
work and planning. Janet’s goslings were fearless and swam about the
lower end of the lake as if they had always lived beside the water and
enjoyed its freedom. But the ducklings kept closer to the shore at
first and seemed too timid to venture across the lake as the goslings
did.

“Janet’s water fowl add the finishing touch to the picture,” said Mrs.
James, as she stood beside the decorative coops and smiled at Janet.

“No, not the finishing touch, Jimmy, because the goldfish will add
that!” declared Norma jealously.

Sam had been sent post-haste to Solomon’s Seal Camp to break the news
that the water was overflowing the dam and the lake was wonderful!
This had the desired effect, so that every scout in Patrol One was
running up the woodland path before breakfast had been started.

The “Ohs” and the “Ahs” that came from the scouts from camp, and the
repeated visits across the bridges to every place on the shores that
they had had anything to do with during the week consumed more than an
hour. Rachel had trailed about after the scouts as they visited the
familiar bushes and shrubs, and walked up and down the flight of
steps, or sat upon the bank smiling at the happy faces, until Sam came
running across the lawn with dire news for his aunt.

“Aunt Rachel! Oh, Aunt Rachel!” gasped he, breathlessly, “Dat saucepan
of milk what you put on the fire for cocoa done gone and run over and
now it’s smokin’ and burnin’ to beat the band!”

Rachel’s two hands flew up above her head and she cried “Oh Laws-ee!
And dis Sunday, too! And all dem folkses acomin’ to visit the place!
And the hull house smoked and smellin’ like eberyt’ing! Oh, _oh_, oh!”

She had already started to rush for the kitchen by the time she had
finished her lament, but she suddenly stopped and sent her nephew a
look that should have gone to the marrow of his bones.

“Say, yoh Sambo! Ain’t you got sense enough to take dat saucepan of
milk f’om dat fiah?”

“Suah I did, Aunt Rachel,” eagerly came from Sam, “but dat don’t
remove all the smoke and smell from the house!”

However, the odor of scorched milk was all gone before the city
visitors arrived that afternoon to spend an agreeable hour with their
daughters. But long ere the city tourists reached the farm at Green
Hill, every inhabitant at or about Four Corners had walked or been
driven to the place on the road where a fine view of the entire lake
could be had.

The scouts hovered around listening to the honeyed words of praise and
admiration that came from the frank lips of the country folk, and many
a farmer’s wife returned from that visit with minds firmly made up to
do away with similar unsightly briar patches or marshy ground near
their homes. Thus the landscaping that Norma and Mrs. James undertook
to do had a corresponding good effect on many families about Four
Corners, because they went to work to beautify hitherto ugly spots
near their houses.

The Tompkins’ family were invited to remain to dinner that Sunday, as
they had been so instrumental in helping the work along. The scouts of
Patrol One were also persuaded to have dinner with their friends, and
Miss Mason consented on the condition that they all be allowed to help
with the dinner work.

Consequently Rachel did not find the dinner as much work as if she had
had to prepare one for her own family, without the help the scouts
gave. Natalie and Miss Mason went to the vegetable gardens to pull
radishes and lettuce for salad, and there they saw enough green string
beans large enough to gather for a vegetable for that noon’s dinner.

Frances and Belle drove over to Farmer Ames and persuaded him to kill
two of his largest fowl for them to carry back to cook for a
fricassee. This afforded enough chicken soup for the first course and
the meat with dumplings added, provided plenty of meat. The string
beans, young beet tops and new potatoes made a fine course; and the
lettuce salad with radishes came next. Rachel made a large rice
pudding the day before, and cooled it in the cellar. As she had
intended sending half of it to camp for the scouts, she now had plenty
for every one.

As was customary at these large gatherings, the table was set on the
back lawn under the old apple tree, and the seats were made of wide
boards placed across soap boxes, for the young folks to use, while the
adults had chairs brought from the dining room.

The city relatives did not arrive until three o’clock and before that
time the dinner dishes were all washed and out of the way, the
Tompkins’ family had started homeward and the scouts of Patrol One had
departed for camp. So the girls at the house had ample time to make
elaborate toilets to receive their families.

When the visitors finally did arrive in several large touring cars,
they were as astonished at finding a lake all made by their girls as
the girls themselves could have hoped for. Every place on the farm was
visited and discussed, from the two beehives to the newly mowed lawns.
The transplanted trees, shrubs and wild bushes that stood along the
fence by the field to supply the birds and bees with plenty of food
were wondered at, but Mr. Marvin said he did not see how they could
live after being interfered with in July. He believed they must be dug
up in late fall, to be successfully transplanted.

“Oh, we expect them to die off after a time, but that won’t do any
harm, for we will have had the effect of certain trees in certain
groups and places, and we can easily supplant them with the same kind
and size, late in the fall. All we need now is to coax the birds to
nest in the houses and these food trees will bring them,” explained
Norma.

“Besides, we have already chosen certain shrubs and trees in the woods
to take the place of any that may die. We tied red flannel ribbons on
them to mark them, and Jimmy wrote the class and other information on
tags which we tied to their trunks in case the leaves are all off
before we can dig them up,” added Janet.

“Oh! do you expect to visit the farm on weekends this fall?” asked Mr.
Wardell, rather pleased at the idea of having Janet get a few days in
the country every week.

“Week-ends! Why, Father! We intend remaining on the farm until all the
fall work is finished,” declared Janet.

“You don’t mean that you will stay on after school opens?” was Mrs.
Wardell’s amazed question.

“Why, certainly, Mother! We will _have_ to stay if we intend
prospering with our business, next spring,” said Janet.

Every one had crowded around the three speakers and now Mr. Marvin
said teasingly: “Perhaps you will change your minds—once you get back
to New York, and will not want to return to Green Hill next summer.”

The five girls gasped at such a ridiculous statement and Janet and
Norma retorted at the same time: “Not come back! you haven’t the
slightest idea of what we have at stake here!”

The adults laughed heartily at this answer and then Norma’s parents
took up the catechism. Said Mr. Evaston: “What about school when it
opens in the fall?”

“Oh, we are all going to commute to New York with Natalie. She has to
stay here until snow flies, you know, to have everything in fine order
for us next year.”

This seemed to amuse the elders still more than Janet’s remarks, and
Mrs. Evaston said: “Haven’t you any regrets about leaving your fathers
and mothers all alone in New York?”

Frances replied: “Our parents all have automobiles and whenever they
are lonesome, Jimmy will be glad to have them visit _us_ at Green
Hill.”

Before the laugh this remark occasioned had died away, Janet added
pertinently: “That’s a fine plan, Frances. We can make the adults pay
board and room by the day, and make much more money than we are
getting from us girls by the week, you know.”

Mrs. James flushed and interpolated with: “You will give your families
the impression that I am mercenary, girls!”

But the prolonged laughter that followed Janet’s suggestion and Mrs.
James’ discomfited reply must have reassured the hostess. Then Norma
said seriously:

“Even if the other girls do go back to the city, in September, I could
not leave so early, because Mrs. Tompkins says my bulbs, and roots and
bushes that I expect to transplant this fall for next season’s
growing, have to be in the ground before November, but not earlier
than the last of October or they will rot.”

“And Sue! We have to remain to look after the cow just as long as the
weather is warm enough for her to pasture outdoors,” ventured Belle.

“To say nothing of my pigs, Belle. I can’t go away and leave them
half-grown. I must stay here and take care of them until they can be
sold to the butcher,” added Janet.

That reminded the girls of Seizer, and forthwith the sad story of his
early demise was told in pathetic words, but the city elders could not
sympathize in such a loss and they smiled in an amused manner. Well
for them that Janet did not see the smiles!

The discussion over the girls’ determination to remain at Green Hill
until all outdoor work was impossible because of the cold weather, and
their statements that they must return in spring to be able to proceed
with their farm work, caused Mr. Marvin to laugh and make a suggestion
that really bore fruit in after days.

“If these country life scouts stick to their farm work so seriously as
they are now doing, they will drag us all from our lives as cliff
dwellers in New York and land us on farms of our own at Four Corners.”

The very idea of such a preposterous outcome of their daughters’
present experiments, made the parents laugh heartily, but the girls
exclaimed eagerly: “Oh, that would be splendid!”

Janet added laughingly: “Maybe we scouts will save enough money from
our farm work to pay for the farms our families will have to live
upon!” And the other girls laughed merrily at the very suggestion.

“Who knows!” Mr. Marvin said, still joking about it all. “I may be
able to lay out Green Hill into small farms and sell them off to our
girls for your future homes.”

“You couldn’t do better!” retorted Janet quickly.

“I choose the water garden for my farm site!” was Norma’s instant
decision, causing every one to laugh at her funny choice of a farm.

Natalie now said very seriously: “You old fogies can joke and laugh
all you like, but you don’t know the times you are all missing by
staying in New York, while we are enjoying the farm.”

“If rosy cheeks and an over-supply of energy and vitality is a
criterion of life on the farm, I will say that you girls certainly
demonstrate the advisability of every one in cities moving out to
farms,” laughed Mr. Marvin, looking approvingly at his ward’s healthy
color and bright eyes.

“Not only that, but you all just wait until the season ends, and then
see the money we will have on hand,” bragged Janet.

“I am so glad to hear it! Then you can repay me all the advance loans
I have made to you, from month to month, since we opened an account on
a farm allowance basis,” said Mr. Wardell.

The other fathers laughed appreciatively at his remark, for they had
all had similar experiences with their daughters. But the scouts paid
no attention to such suggestive words as repaying advanced loans for
farm uses, and the elders refrained from starting to collect damages
at that time.




                             CHAPTER XII

                           THE PIGEON COTE.


The pleasure of looking at the lake and enjoying its water falls and
the water fowl that played about in the lower end most of the time,
did not wear away in a few days, but the desire to constantly stand on
the shore and gaze at the water, began to pall in a few days’ time.
The scouts never ceased to love and appreciate the spot; and almost
every evening the three girls from the village, the scouts from the
camp, and the girls from the house, met under the pines to enjoy the
cool of the evening on the lake shore.

Janet had added pigeons to her stock by this time, but they would not
remain at Green Hill. The first day she allowed them their freedom,
she watched with pleasure as they flew up in the blue sky. But then
they made straight for Dorothy Ames’s farm where they had been reared.

Janet wailed and got Frances to drive her over to Dot’s house without
delay. There were her pigeons strutting about with the others, and
pecking deliberately at the corn on the ground. They were taken
captives again that night and brought back to Janet.

In a few days she let them out of the coop again and again they flew
in a bee-line for home. The girls laughed at this escape, but Janet
was angry and asked Dorothy what could be done to keep them at home to
attend to their business of raising a family.

Dorothy now made a suggestion that sounded well but it meant more
carpenter work. “You might try a small cote for the different kinds,
Janet, and see if they will stay if they have to keep house alone in
pairs.”

Janet spoke of this idea when she returned to Green Hill, and Norma
eagerly added: “Oh, that is just what Mrs. Tompkins told me today. She
says we ought to have our pigeons separated from each other, because
the pouters and fantails never agree, and the tumblers and the common
pigeons always peck at each other and are dissatisfied in having to
live together.”

“I suppose that means I must start a lot of carpentry work again, and
build separate houses,” sighed Janet.

“No, Mrs. Tompkins showed me a cote she made for her ordinary pigeons,
and it looked fine!” said Norma. “She took a big sugar barrel and
after making separate rooms in it, had it mounted on top of a tall
pine tree that had been blasted by lightning.

“Now I looked around our back yard, Janet, and I found a high
telegraph pole that had been split off near the top. As no one uses it
now for wires, or other needs, we can use it for a pigeon cote. I know
just how to fix that barrel, and all you have to do is to have Frances
bring one from Tompkins’ store. I asked him to save a good one for us
and he said he would.”

“Well, that isn’t so bad, if you will make one cote, and some of the
other girls make another, and so on, until I have enough ready for a
dozen pairs of pigeons,” laughed Janet, relieved and optimistic once
more.

Mrs. Tompkins said that the birds didn’t mind _feeding_ on one common
ground, and they even flew into the chicken yards to eat the corn that
is scattered for the hens, but they object to _living_ in the same
quarters. “That is why they fly home again—to get away from their
neighbors.”

“What snobs they must be!” remarked Natalie.

The girls laughed, and Mrs. James said: “It is because they never
learned the Golden Rule. Maybe it will be our work to teach our
pigeons to be socialists.”

“I’d rather build separate coops and let them live their lives their
own way,” retorted Janet.

“Mrs. Tompkins says that once you get the female to set on her eggs
and keep the male penned in with her until the squabs are out, they
will never try to fly away again. But she often keeps hers in prison
for months before they will start raising a family and settle down in
their new home,” said Norma.

So the sugar barrel was brought home from the store and Norma began
work on it exactly as she had been shown. Janet and the other girls
assisted, and in a day’s time the cote was ready to be mounted on the
old telegraph pole.

It had been partitioned off inside to make several coops. There were
three floors in the barrel, and each floor was divided into two
apartments. The doors opened outward so that no one door came directly
in line with the others, and this was done to keep the birds as much
apart as possible.

Perches and a running-board were placed at each door; and there were
perches projecting out beyond each end of the “verandah.” Then a
narrow roof was fastened over each door to keep the rain from beating
in at the opening.

“If only we had a nice cone-shaped roof on the top of the barrel like
Mrs. Tompkins has on hers,” sighed Norma, looking at the flat top of
the barrel head.

“Girls! I have it!” cried Janet, jumping up and starting for the barn
yard as if on wings.

The other girls watched her go and waited wonderingly until she
returned with a large tin cone in her hands.

“There, I bet it will fit on top just as we want it to!” laughed
Janet, inverting the cone and capping the barrel as if it had been
made for it.

“What is it? Where did you get it?” questioned the curious girls.

“I remembered seeing it kicked about the harness room, and Sam said it
was an old broken hopper that had once belonged to a feed chopper. The
pipe and funnel are missing, so it was worthless to the old tenant
when he moved away.”

Norma looked in the hole at the top and said: “We can cork it up with
a bit of fitted wood, Janet.”

“Sam can do that to a dot, ’cause he loves to whittle,” added Natalie.

“We ought to paint the cote before it is mounted on the pole, Janet,”
suggested Belle.

“I am sure we have enough paint left over from the bird houses to do
this barrel,” was Frances’ idea.

So Janet ran down to the cellar and brought out the several cans of
paint, with a little in each tin. “Not enough of one shade to go
around, though,” said she, after examining the tins.

“Listen, girls! Let’s mix all the paints in one pail, and add enough
turpentine or oil to thin it out as we need it. But keep the green
paint separate to use to trim the cote and roof.”

“Sam has some brown-red paint at the barn that will do to paint the
roof red. It will look better if it is a contrasting color from the
trimming,” suggested Janet.

“All right, Jan, you run and bring the red-brown can while we mix
these other paints together and see what color it makes,” said Natalie
eager to experiment.

Janet went for the red roof paint, while her friends mixed the other
paints thoroughly together, and then called on Mrs. James to bring
them some oil and turpentine. She went to the kitchen catch-all closet
and found the two bottles, then took them over to the busy girls.

“Don’t use much linseed oil, girls, as it will keep the paint from
drying quickly. Turpentine dries almost instantly,” said Mrs. James,
handing the bottles to Norma.

When the mixing was finished the girls were delighted to find that the
tiny bit of russian blue in a can, the small amount of ivory black,
the dab of scarlet, and the half pail of flake white paints made a
soft grey almost like a dove’s tipped wings. This was applied to the
barrel sides and bottom; and then Janet returned with the red-brown
paint.

The cone was fastened to the top of the barrel and when it was painted
no one would have known what it had been before it became a roof on
the pigeon cote. Then the verandahs and perches and roofs over the
doors were painted green, and the stakes that projected from the top
and bottom of the barrel were also painted green.

“It will take until tomorrow to dry, girls,” said Mrs. James, when the
painting was finished.

“Meantime, we are going to Tompkins’ store and see how soon we can get
some more sugar barrels. This cote is so pretty it will be a
decoration to our back garden,” said Janet.

“And when we go to the store, remember to get some more wire netting
to nail these projecting stakes in order to keep the birds in their
prison until the family is started,” reminded Norma.

When the cote was dry and the wire was fastened about it to keep the
inmates from flying away, Sam was called upon to climb the long ladder
and saw off the end of the telegraph pole, so the cote would be about
twenty feet above the ground.

This was no trouble for him, for he had been sawing so much since the
day he tried to square off the clothes pole that he soon had the high
pole evenly sawed and ready for the cote.

Several heavy iron brackets had been secured at the store to insure
the safety of the cote once it was on top of the pole. Then Sam
climbed the ladder again and the girls hoisted the barrel cote up to
him by means of a rope and pulley.

At last the nice-looking cote was up and it looked very good, too. Sam
suggested that the old grey pole be painted a dove color but Janet
discovered that there was no paint left in the can. Some one had
kicked it over in their zeal to pull the barrel up to the top of the
pole, and the remaining paint had trickled out upon the ground.

“Oh, that pole is near enough the grey color of the cote,” called
Natalie impatiently.

“We can give it a coat of paint next year, if we think it will look
better,” added Janet.

“But Norma wanted it to look good for the rest of this summer,”
ventured Mrs. James.

“Yes, it is in _my_ garden, and I don’t want any old things to ruin
the appearance of my flowers,” admitted Norma.

“Why won’t a lot of vines look fine, if you train them to climb up the
pole?” asked Belle. “I’ve seen the poles in country gardens covered
with morning glories and other vines!”

“That’s just what I will do, Jimmy!” declared Norma, turning to her
adviser for approval.

That same day, Janet brought home her prodigal pigeons for the fifth
time, but this time two pairs of the ordinary kind were placed in
Norma’s cote and left there to start housekeeping. When the ladder was
finally removed and the girls stood smiling at the fine result of
their work, and the way the pigeons would have to remain at home after
this, Rachel walked across the grass.

“I’m wonderin’, Honey, how you-all is goin’ to feed dem birds, ef day
is wired in dat away?”

The girls gazed at each other in blank astonishment, and Mrs. James
had to sit on the inverted butter tub and laugh. No one had given a
thought of how the birds were going to be fed.

Sam had started for the barn yard with the ladder, but he was suddenly
recalled. He dropped the ladder to come back and see what was wrong,
but Janet called out: “Bring the ladder with you.”

When he had rejoined the group, Rachel laughingly said: “Dese wise
pigeon trainers done gone and forgot how to feed dem birds, Sam!”

Then her nephew laughed as loud and as long as Mrs. James had done.
Still that did not solve the problem of feeding the pigeons, so Sam
wiped his eyes and studied the cote from where he stood. Finally he
made a brilliant suggestion.

“You hoisted dat coop like it was a fedder, and I don’t see what’s to
hinder you f’om hoistin’ corn and feed to the roof and den yankin’ on
the rope to turn over the tin what holds it. Let the cracked corn and
other feed roll down onto the piazza floors for the pigeons to pick
up.”

“That’s a great idea, but how about the drinking water?” demanded Mrs.
James.

“Well, I dun’no about dat. Let someone else remember a great idee for
dat,” was Sam’s reply, as if he had performed his duty in thinking of
a way to settle the feed problem.

“Now that it is up and the birds living in the cote, I don’t see what
else you can do except to leave the ladder against the pole and have
Sam climb up twice a day to feed them,” remarked Frances.

“Water once a day, and feed night and mornin’,” said Sam, as if
learning a lesson by memory.

“We’ll just have to leave it that way until I see Mrs. Tompkins and
ask her what can be done,” said Norma resignedly.

“Do they only need corn while they are caged?” asked Janet anxiously
of every one.

“Mrs. Tompkins said we had best give them the same sort of food they
would get if they were flying about at liberty. They need grit and
lime and sand mixed in a dish and placed where they can get all they
want of it. We must sprinkle sand and gravel over the floor of the
promenade, too, for them to scratch in, all they like. When the hen
bird lays her eggs and starts brooding over them, the male bird will
feed and care for her. As soon as the little ones are hatched we can
remove the wire and let them have their liberty,” said Mrs. James.

“Suppose the pair on one floor of the house start a family, before the
other birds think of it, and you remove the wire. They will fly away
again, just as they did from the barn,” said Janet.

“We won’t take away the wire from the front of the coops unless all
the birds settle down to raising their families. Only one pair of
birds will be given their liberty at a time,” said Norma.

Several barrels were secured from Tompkins’ store after that, but the
others were small half-barrel sizes which the girls preferred, because
they would only have to have two families in one cote, and that would
simplify the troubles of a flat owner.

The new cotes were placed upon much lower posts and poles, too, so the
problem of feeding the pigeons while they were in captivity was easier
to solve.

Sam had found a small American flag in the roadway one day, and this
he stuck in the top of Norma’s large cote, where it flew patriotically
and made the pigeons sit with heads on one side eyeing this emblem of
their native land.

In about a week’s time after the first pair of pigeons were kept
captives, Sam shouted one morning: “The lady bird done gone laid two
aigs! Hurrah!”

The news was so thrilling that every scout in both the patrols had to
climb that ladder and have a peep at the expectant mother, but the
male bird scolded and snapped at their faces so daringly, that they
really saw nothing after they had reached the top of the ladder. So
each one came down again.

The day after Norma had finished her cote for the pigeons she began
turning her full attention to her flowers, once more. Not that she had
neglected them past all hope, but they had not been the sole ambition
of her time during the extra diversions of water gardening and
cote-building.

It was during the week that followed the parents’ visit to Green Hill,
that Janet went with Frances and Belle for a visit to a distant
farmer’s who advertised young squabs for sale cheap. Janet decided
that it would be far easier to raise some other owner’s squabs than to
try to keep enough pigeons on hand to hatch out the young birds at
home.

When she returned from that shopping trip, she plainly showed that she
had made a daring venture. Frances and Belle were hardly able to keep
from laughing at what they knew, so Mrs. James said:

“Come, tell us what it is all about, Janet!”

“Well, I’ve gone and bought a ewe and two dear little twin lambs!”
declared she, with the air of a king who can do no wrong.

“Oh, really!” exclaimed the two girls who had remained at home. “How
cute they must be?”

But Mrs. James seemed concerned. “How can you take care of them,
Janet? Are they grown enough to feed themselves?”

“Oh, no, but that is the cutest thing about them, Jimmy! You should
see them follow the mother about and try to get a drink. She actually
cuffs them over the ears when she thinks they have no need of more
milk,” laughed Janet.

“When are they coming here?” asked Norma eagerly.

“The man said he would deliver them tomorrow morning. I only paid him
for the squabs, Jimmy, as I had no money left. I wonder if you can
loan me the price of the ewe and lambs?”

“Certainly, Janet. But do not neglect Susy now that you have a few new
toys. Poor Susy went hungry this morning because you forgot all about
her. So Sam gave her her breakfast.”

“Oh, my darling Susy!” cried Janet, turning to run for the enclosure
where the calf was kept.

“All that endearment won’t do any good now, Janet,” laughed Belle.

“All the stuff you fed Seizer that morning did him more harm than
good,” added Frances, hoping to impress Janet with her serious
responsibilities.

The ewe and lambs arrived the next morning, and the man left them in
the pasture lot with Sue, although neither member of Janet’s
increasing family cared a fig whether there were lambs to gambol about
the field or not.

Sam and Janet hastily constructed a shed and yard for the lambs and
the ewe, and that night they were closed in to sleep upon the nice
fresh straw.

In the morning, when Janet went to gather the new-laid eggs, she
stopped to have a peep at the lambs. They were constantly running
after the big ewe, but she kept out of their reach and slyly managed
to dodge their every effort to get at her.

Janet hurried back to the house and reported on the ewe and lambs,
then added: “They were blatting so pitifully I wonder if anything is
wrong?”

Thereupon every one started for the barn yard to visit the lambs. Just
as Mrs. James reached the fence of the enclosure, a harrowing sight
was presented to the interested watchers. The ewe had slipped back and
forth so many times to elude the lambs, and they kept jumping about to
reach her and nurse from her, for they were hungry, when the old one
suddenly turned and butted her solid forehead against the nearest
lamb.

It was instantly flattened against the side of the shed, while the old
ewe turned her attention to the other teaser. The butted lamb bleated
such mournful cries that the girls felt like crying for it. While the
ewe was dealing justice to the second little lamb, the first one
managed to creep up unawares behind her and try to snatch a drink of
milk.

The ewe then kicked lustily and sent the little wobbly thing sprawling
out on the ground.

“Oh, you inhuman mother, you!” shrilled Janet angrily.

“Isn’t she horrid to her children?” added Natalie.

“We’ll just _make_ her feed those darlings!” declared Norma, as she
saw Sam crossing the yard, and beckoned him to come over.

When the story of the wicked mother had been told Sam, he said wisely:
“Mebbe she wants to wean ’em.”

“But she just can’t, Sam, until they are old enough to feed
themselves,” returned Janet.

“I’se seen lambs fed in a bottle till they was big enough to pick fer
themselves,” ventured Sam.

“A bottle? Like a baby?” chorused the interested girls.

“Yeh, onny some bigger, ’cus a lamb wants more at one feedin’, you
know.”

“Oh, that will be fun. Let’s send to Four Corners for the rubber
nipples and the bottles,” laughed Belle.

The girls were so interested in this new idea that they left Mrs.
James still watching the ewe and lambs, while they rushed to the house
to ask Rachel questions.

“Have you got a big bottle that we can use to nurse the lambs?” asked
Natalie, quite out of breath when she reached the door.

“We need two bottles, Rachel!” added Janet.

“How big mus’ they be?” asked Rachel.

“Oh,—how big, Sam?”

“Big nuff to hold about a pint each, Aunt Rachel.”

“I got some catsup bottles what hol’ a little more’n a pint a piece,
Sam,” said Rachel.

“Them will do, where are they?” returned Sam.

“On the swing-shelf, down cellar. You kin git ’em,” replied Rachel,
going back to her baking.

Sam soon produced the bottles from the cellar, and then said: “Now all
you want is them rubber nipples.”

So all four girls accompanied Frances on a special trip to Four
Corners to buy the nipples from Tompkins.

“But I only got one nipple left in stock, gals,” was Mr. Tompkins’
disconcerting reply. “You see, Four Corners ain’t had no baby fer nigh
onto a year now and my old customer what used to buy them moved away
in winter.”

“Well, we will take the one, and have to telephone to White Plains for
more,” said Janet anxiously.

“I’d better drive there for more, Janet,” suggested Frances.

“Oh, yes, but we will take this one with us, Mr. Tompkins.”

While Janet was paying for it, she told Mr. Tompkins about the need
for it. When he heard how the ewe refused to allow the twins to nurse,
he said there was something wrong as he had never heard of a mother
ewe who weaned such little lambs.

“I’ll run over this noon and see what ails her,” said Mr. Tompkins.
“Meanwhile, you feed the lambs with a bottle.”

The girls found ample exercise and fun in trying to catch a lamb and
feed it, but once the captive got hold of the nipple, it drank the
bottle empty of milk without stopping. It would choke and sputter
exactly like an infant, and this pleased the girls immensely.

By the time the girls had finished holding the frisky lambs securely,
while another girl held the bottle in its mouth, they all had kicked
shins from tiny hoofs, and their hands and faces were dirty from the
nosing the lambs gave them. But this was considered awfully cute of
the lambs, and the girls ran back to the house, when the feeding was
over, to wash their hands and faces.

That morning the old ewe kept quiet and only moved when the lambs
teased her beyond endurance. Then Mr. Tompkins came at noon, and the
girls escorted him to the barn yard to hear him pass judgment.

“Why, that ewe will come down with milk fever if she don’t let them
lambs nurse right off!” declared he, as he tried to get a grip on the
ewe and examine her.

“Here, Sam! Sit on her head while we make these lambs nurse out this
caked milk!” said Mr. Tompkins, as he held down the ewe until Sam got
over the fence and did as he was told.

The lambs went to work hungrily, but the ewe resented it so that she
tried to kick and butt, and finally Mr. Tompkins said: “Gals, I don’t
believe she is the mother of these twins. Who sold you the three?”

Janet forgot the man’s name but she described the farm where he lived.
“Why, the old rascal! He tol’ me himself, a few days ago, how his best
ewe died leaving a pair of twins to raise by hand. And a crank mother
lost her lamb and wouldn’t help out the starving twins! So he palmed
them off on you to bother with, eh! Well, we will all go and get him
and make him do what’s right!” threatened Tompkins furiously.

Frances got the car out again, and the girls, with Mr. Tompkins to act
as their representative, started off for the farm.

After a time, Mr. Tompkins said: “Ain’t you drivin’ the wrong road?”

“No, we went this way, all right,” said Janet.

“But the man I mean lives the other way,” said Tompkins.

Just then a farmer’s wagon came in sight, and as the automobile came
opposite it, Janet shouted eagerly: “That’s the man! He sold us the
lambs!”

“Why he ain’ the man I was talking of at all!” said Mr. Tompkins,
chagrined at his mistake.

The farmer pulled in his horses and began, before the girls could
scold him: “I found my man made a mistake, gals. He picked the wrong
mother for them twins. I never knew it until I found the other mother
feverish, and then I saw we had a wrong lamb for her. I got the right
mother in a box in the wagon and I’ll carry my other mother home with
me.”

As this explained the whole trouble satisfactorily, the exchange was
soon made and the little twins were quickly snuggled by their right
mother, while the starving little lamb back on the other farm would
soon have its own mother again.

Then Janet explained how the ewe had butted the poor little lambs when
they wanted to nurse from her and how they got the bottles ready to
care for the hungry little dears.

The farmer laughed and said: “If you think the mother had a temper
because she butted the lamb, you ought to see what the real mother of
these twins did to my man when he tried to make her nurse the lamb
that was left behind. He was stooping to draw the lamb over to her
side when the old ewe lowered her head and in another moment the handy
man was assisted over the fence!”

After the family reunion of lambs and ewe, the twins grew like weeds,
and were able to run about the field after the mother and be weaned in
two weeks’ time. But all this belongs to Frances’ book which follows
this one.

A strict account was kept of Sue’s expenses and the income from the
milk and butter and cheese, also the skim-milk which Janet bought for
the pigs and calf, and at the end of the two weeks, dating from the
Saturday the cow arrived at Green Hill, a corporate meeting was held
to discuss dividends and future expenses of Sue. The profit showed
such encouraging signs of growth that the girls began counting how
long it would take to pay off the borrowed money with which they paid
for Sue, and then begin to have something left to divide between the
stockholders.

When Janet heard how much the skim-milk had cost her in the past two
weeks, she gasped. “Why, Jimmy! If those pigs go on eating like this,
the pork will be worth more than two dollars a pound when fall comes.”

The other girls laughed, and Natalie said: “Then you ought to feed
David and Jonathan more of my tomato vines and let them follow in
Seizer’s steps.”

“Well, I am thankful I am not the sole owner of the cow, too. If we
have to pay Nat for all the cabbages and turnips the cow ate when she
got in the garden the other day, we won’t have any profits to divide,”
said Janet, giggling.

“That’s an item I forgot to charge up,” said Mrs. James.

“But I am to be reimbursed in some way, for my loss, am I not?” asked
Natalie.

As is commonly the case at large stockholders’ meetings, a
disagreement on debts and dividends took place and after a long time
given to explanations about how much Sue cost for keep and the income
on her first product and the by-products, the meeting adjourned
without anything definite having been decided upon.

During the second week of July, the eight girl scouts of Patrol Number
Two attended a council meeting of the Solomon Seal Patrol One, at
which they were informed that Headquarters in New York City had
admitted the Patrols as a first-class Troop, and now the members could
start an intensive drive to win badges and be awarded honors for the
tests given in the handbook.

At this meeting, Miss Mason enrolled the eight Tenderfeet as scouts in
regular standing, and immediately after this welcome information, the
eight girls whispered eagerly to each other of individual plans for
advancement. Then Frances declared herself aloud to all present:

“I take this occasion to let you all know that henceforth you shall
not know me as a jitney conductor, because I have decided to take up
other lines as well. Not that the car is going out of commission—far
be it from me to allow Amity Ketchum to again resume dominion over
Four Corners’ helpless travellers—but I am going to study insects and
the birds, this summer, and take tests.

“I have watched many insects and find they are so very interesting,
and there is so much to learn about their habits and lives, that I
believe they will afford me plenty of pastime and, if I write down
everything I discover, just as Janet told her stock story in the
diary, I can give you scouts many entertainments.

“Besides the insects, I find the birds about this section of
Westchester are very wonderful and rare for the usual temperate
climate. One of the old natives at Bronxville, where Belle had me
drive her the other day in search of a Colonial cupboard for sale,
said that very few sections of the Northern States could boast of so
many tropical birds as nested about the woods in the immediate
vicinity of Bronxville. Yet they seldom went farther North than that
line, and seemed to keep within a definite line all about that
section.

“Belle planned to study bird-life at first in connection with her
antique research, but she believes forestry and art will combine
better with her special line of business. Then, too, Belle likes
domestic science, and will follow that as a recreation.”

When Frances concluded her speech, the scouts applauded and Mrs. James
said, smilingly: “Belle ought to speak now.”

Belle jumped up instantly and remarked laughingly: “All I can say is
that it will be wise for you scouts to keep on good terms with me,
after I have experimented more with my domestic science; as I can
either treat you well with my finished products or kill you off with
heavy biscuits and doughnuts, if you make me an enemy. That’s all.”

When she sat down, the scouts laughed heartily and Janet swore
friendship from that moment on, in order to insure her life, she said.

The Captain now said: “If there is nothing more to take up for
discussion, we will proceed with the scout exercises.”

Then Janet jumped up and called for attention. “We have a most
important matter to discuss but we cannot plan or talk with Jimmy and
you present. Now, which shall we do—adjourn this meeting in order to
discuss our own business, or excuse you two undesirable attendants
until we have concluded our conference?”

Miss Mason laughed and retorted: “I am not accustomed to hearing so
frankly that my company is not wanted, so I shall leave without asking
to be excused.”

Mrs. James took the Captain’s arm and nodded her head approvingly, as
she added: “Them’s my sentiments, too.” And the two departed from the
Council but every one knew what the topic of general interest was.

As the two ladies walked slowly away, the Captain turned and called
out: “Plan all you like, girls, but don’t spend any money on our
double birthday!”

Corporal Janet tossed her head at that, and beckoned to the scouts to
draw closer so they could confer without a word being heard by the two
principals in the case.

“First, I want to know how many have thought of a novel idea for
entertainment at the party on the sixteenth?” asked Janet.

So many girls raised a hand that Janet laughed, and then said: “We’d
better begin at this end and go right around the circle. Even if one
of us hasn’t thought out a finished plan, our general discussion may
launch something that will be an improvement on someone else’s
suggestion. Now you begin, May.”

“My idea of entertaining the Captain and her Lieutenant was this: To
invite all the people about Four Corners to a Scout Council and
entertain them in ways that will show them how valuable scouting is. I
have thought of many ways in which we can entertain strangers, and at
the same time, advertise our scout organization.”

“That’s a good idea, May, but would you include _every_ one about Four
Corners, without reservations?” asked Janet.

“Of course! How could we discriminate?”

“I was thinking of Amity Ketchum—would you invite him?” teased Janet.

There was a general murmur of dissent at this and May had to brave the
flash of many eyes as she said: “Even our enemy, for he needs
something good and intelligent more than any one I know of.”

Several scouts applauded this sentiment, and Janet continued: “What
are some of your ways for entertaining, May?”

“There are so many, it is hard to decide on any—there are the stars to
talk about; the wildwood vegetation to describe and its uses
demonstrated; the signs and signals and blazes of scoutdom to
illustrate; demonstrating how a scout camps—pitches tent, digs
latrines, makes fire without matches, finds bedding from the trees,
etc.; and many other vastly interesting things, besides doing our
exercises applied to various needs.”

“Let the Troop Scribe make a note of this plan, as it sounds good to
me, eh, girls?” was Janet’s decision.

“Yes, indeed, it is!” they chorused.

The second scout was one who had not been able to think of any novel
plan for the birthday party, but when she heard May’s idea expressed,
she was able to amend the motion by saying: “Why not make a full
afternoon and evening of the entertainment, and invite Four Corners to
the woods for our share in teaching them scout life, and then let them
invite us to the village school-house for the evening, where we can
give a regular party with ice cream and lots of Belle’s domestic
science cakes?”

Every one laughed at the last suggestion but they also approved of it.
Janet then offered the suggestion for debate, and finally it was
decided by the “yeas” that were it possible to interest enough Four
Corners’ folk, the three village scouts of Patrol Number Two would be
delegated to ascertain all about the hiring of the school-house for
the evening of the sixteenth.

Norma sat next to the girl who amended May’s motion and now she said:
“My party plan is very simple in comparison to May’s, as it was an
idea to go for a fine long hike in the woods and take along enough
floor and cooking needs to have a gypsy dinner in the woods. I thought
we could spend the day and return home at evening and celebrate at the
house with singing and games.”

“Sounds inviting, Norma, but who will keep awake to sing and play in
the evening after a long day on the hike?” was Natalie’s query.

The scout next to Norma now amended the proposition with: “Why not
ride somewhere and play gypsy when we arrive there? Then we won’t be
so weary with walking and can sing or play as Norma suggested, when we
come back home?”

“We all can’t crowd in the automobile,” said Frances.

Then the girl next to the first amender spoke up and said: “My idea
was very similar to the one just announced, but I had thought of using
several farm wagons, such as Ames has, and filling the bottom with
straw for a straw ride to the hills.”

“That, too, sounds alluring, so we will have the scribe jot that
amended plan down for future consideration,” said the Corporal.

The next two scouts had thought of gathering together at Solomon’s
Seal Camp and having refreshments and games. But these ideas were not
approved, so the turn came to Natalie to speak.

“Well, I must say, that it is disappointing to be in the last row of
spectators at the death of the fox,” began she laughingly. “Here am I
with as good a plan as the others, but it has been minced up by the
girls who proposed and those who amended the others.”

The scouts smiled sympathetically—or at least, those girls did who had
not yet spoken. Natalie continued:

“I planned for a morning of hiking in the country; coming home to a
fine dinner out on the lawn under the trees, then a general council
and other gathering at Camp, with our relatives in attendance, and an
evening given over to whatever form of fun we all decided on. I
thought the supper could be served at camp for all who came.”

“Jot that down, Scribe, for discussion,” said Janet, turning to
Frances who came next.

“My idea was along the same lines, but I thought to ask Mr. Marvin and
a friend of his who would have a touring car, to drive out from the
city and take us all for an auto trip in the afternoon, and then we
would invite them to sup and an evening’s entertainment in return,”
explained Frances.

Janet turned to the Scribe and said: “Add to that last memo ‘Frans
says call for two autos from Marvin.’”

Belle’s turn came next and she said, languidly: “I never got past the
idea of baking a huge birthday cake with two great wax candles on top
of it.”

This idea caused a laugh, and Janet approved it at once. “We won’t
need to discuss that, Belle—it is decided upon that you bake the best
and largest cake Rachel can accommodate in the oven, and decorate the
frosting so elaborately that the two monster candles will look all the
funnier on top of it.”

Two of the scouts had ideas for each girl making an individual gift
and presenting it at a Council held in the afternoon. Janet amended
this to the giving of gifts made by the donor, to be held in the
evening.

One of the scouts had a plan for giving an amateur performance, the
play to be written by one of the members, and the acting to take place
in the woods with natural scenery.

“That’s fine! We might try Hiawatha or a play written along such
lines. We must get our heads together and invent a new play something
like Hiawatha, so we can use the stream and the tent and the clearing
in the acts. The play can be part of the afternoon’s entertainment to
the Four Corners’ people,” exclaimed Janet eagerly while the other
scouts all felt agreed on the suggestion.

The next scout had conferred with her neighbor and had agreed to write
the play with her. So she was put down as the playwright. The rest of
the girls had simple plans for entertainment that would fall in line
with the greater ones, but those already jotted down were now
discussed thoroughly, and a programme made up for the time being. This
would be revised as necessity called for. When more than an hour had
passed by and the Captain, with her Lieutenant, returned to camp to
find all the scouts’ heads close together still, the former called
out:

“Council is adjourned for the day!”

                               The End.




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-----------------------------------------------------------------------

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