“It was all a matter of opportunity,” said Ted aside to Jerry, referring to Nora’s change of heart. “She is just as good a Scout as any of them.” This was a proud boast.
“The woods are full of them,” said Jerry the champion of all girls, Scouts and near Scouts. “Just give them the chance.”
But up in her own room Nora was pondering. “It’s just like getting married,” she reflected. “That is, I guess it is,” she amended wisely. “One must clear up every secret and fix all the old troubles when one gets married, and one must clear up all the old worries and secrets when she joins the Scouts,” concluded the systematic, little self-appointed conscience cleaner.
There was that matter of the prince. Never did Alma mention it nor never did Nora hear any of the other Scouts refer to it without feeling guilty.
“I just ought to tell Alma the whole truth,” she was now deciding. It was the day after the great event.
But came the thought of Alma’s certain surprise that she, Nora, her true friend and confidante, should have deceived her so long.
Pride did not melt into humility with the bestowing of the pretty Scout emblem, so Nora did not see her way clear to tell that silly story of her Lord Fauntleroy escapade. She was repeating her Scout promise “To do my duty to God and Country and to help others at all times,” and she mentally made the promise again.
“To help others.” That clause charged her. Was she helping Alma? Did she not know, really, that the one glimpse of the person in velvets had left kind and considerate little Alma guessing ever since, and also that it had put her in a ridiculous position with her companions?
“I know, I’ll write her a letter.” The inspiration satisfied, and thus started the most remarkable correspondence—but let others tell it.
“She got a letter!” exclaimed Wyn.