“I’m not, but I have friends who are and I know that good times are not all you girls must look for. The big thing is the training of yourselves into such women as the country can be proud of. There’s an old Sunday school text which was the motto of our class when I was a little girl of your age: ‘Be not weary of well doing, for in due season ye shall reap if ye faint not.’ I remember that our teacher told us the essence of the thing lay in that ‘if ye faint not’; in other words: Don’t fall down on your job. If you are going to be a Girl Scout, be a first-rate one.”
Joanne finished her meal in silence. She was thinking too hard to talk. It came over her that she had not realized what a serious person this pretty young wife of her Cousin Ned could be. She had always appeared full of fun, rather fond of pretty things, of social affairs, and here suddenly she was preaching. Then all at once she understood why Cousin Sue was popular. Underneath the laughter and gay spirits lay sterling character, and she realized that to be a Girl Scout one mustn’t think only of fun and badges, but of the intangible things that lasted forever.
As they left the room, Cousin Sue cuddled up to her little guest “I was awfully preachy, wasn’t I? But it was just because I love you so hard. Let’s go to a movie; that will cheer us up.”
The play they saw happened to be just the one to raise Joanne’s spirits, and she went home a much more cheerful person than the one who left it. All the way up to her room she was trying to make up her mind to offer that apology. It was the hardest task ever set her. She did not see how in the world she could do it, but she must. “I’ve just got to do it, somehow,” she told herself. Then all of a sudden the happy thought came to her that she could write it. Her grandmother was out. She would write her a little note and leave it on the dressing table in her grandmother’s room. No sooner planned than done. The note ran:
“Dearest Gradda:
“I was a babyish pig to speak to you as I did. Please forgive me.
“Your very loving
“Joanne.”
Having done this she felt a great load lifted, and went about getting ready for dinner, singing softly to herself: “Smile, smile, smile.”
After a while the front door shut. Her grandparents came up-stairs. Joanne heard the murmur of their voices, then in the hall her grandmother’s footsteps. She turned toward her door. Her grandmother came in swiftly holding out her arms. “Dear child, dear child,” she murmured as Joanne went to her.
Her grandfather smiled down at her as they all went down-stairs together. “Well, Pickings,” he said, “are the skies clear?”