“Qualify?” repeated her hostess, “that sounds big.”
“Yes, every Girl Pioneer has to qualify, that is to pass several tests to prove that she is competent to do the work. It is no end of fun training a girl to qualify, for you know she has to recite the Girl Pioneer pledge, and the Pioneer laws; she must give the names of the President and Vice-President of the United States, the name of the Governor of the State in which she lives, and then tell all about our country’s flag. She must know how to sew a button on properly,” Helen made a grimace, “to tie a square knot and to do several other things. After a girl has passed these tests, she becomes a third-class Pioneer; then after a month she can qualify for a second-class Pioneer, and finally for a first-class Pioneer. We can win merit badges, too, for proficiency in certain lines. Yes, you are right, it is a big thing to be a Girl Pioneer, for every true Pioneer’s aim is to be courageous, resourceful, and upright, under all circumstances and in all emergencies.
“You know, we have to pledge ourselves to speak the truth at all times, to be honest in all things, and to obey the Pioneer law.” Helen’s face grew serious. “Yes, and our laws mean something, too, for they stand for the doing of things that are worth while, the things that develop nobility of character, for, as Mrs. Morrow tells us, it is character that makes the great men and women of the world.
“But don’t think we are serious all the time,” she continued, her eyes brightening, “for we have heaps of fun. We take hikes; sometimes just a group go with their leader, but generally our Director takes the band. On these hikes we study woodcraft; that means we study the birds, their habits, and learn to know their songs and call-notes. We gather wild flowers, ferns, and grasses, and each girl reads up about the particular thing she finds and passes the information along. We study the trees, and the animals also by tracking their footmarks—well, to sum it all up, we study nature from growing things and living creatures.
“To read about things in a book is all right, Mrs. Morrow says, as it is helpful in identification and suggestion, but we strive to know things through personal experience. We are taught to find nature, too, in the crowded cities. That’s big, isn’t it?”
“Big!” echoed Nathalie, “the word big isn’t big enough to express it. I should say it meant—well”—she held out her arms, “the universe.”
There was something so responsive in her words and attitude, although they did not exactly express what she meant to convey, that Helen, with almost boyish frankness, held out her hand, crying, “Good! let’s shake. You are simply immense, Miss Page, or, in the words of our old French professor at school, ‘you—haf—much com—pree—henshun!’” This was said in mimic tone with laughing eyes, a shrug of the shoulders, and with outspread hands.
“We have indoor rallies, or Pioneer circles, also, Miss Page, when our Director gives us delightful little talks on ethical culture,—only ten minutes—” she pleaded laughingly, “also on history, astronomy,—we call them our star talks,—and other instructive subjects.
“You will be surprised, perhaps, but these talks are very interesting, not at all tiresome. The girls listen with all their ears and we learn an awful lot. One reason is that Mrs. Morrow loves young girls—for you see, she isn’t so very much older than we are—and she knows just how to talk to us, so that we don’t feel as if we were being preached at, or having wisdom jammed down our throats. It is just dramatizing serious things through play, so as to make us remember them as well as entertaining us. Then we have spelling-contests, cooking-matches,—I call them trials by fire,—sewing-bees, and all sorts of old-fashioned things.”
“But you have outdoor sports, too, do you not?” asked her listener, who was intensely interested.