Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer

by Rena I. Halsey

Dr. MCGill had been puzzled by the baby’s resemblance to some one he knew, but supposing the little one belonged to some of the ladies at camp he had thought no more about it. Afterwards, however, on accidentally learning from Dr. Homer that it was a lost baby, he had sent the mother to reclaim it.

Of course there were pangs of disappointment to be endured, but, as Nathalie said, no one could be anything but glad to give the baby up after witnessing the mother’s joy. After the mother had thanked them all, from Mrs. Van Vorst down to Ellen, for their kindness and the care they had given her baby, hoping that each one of the girls would some day have one of her own to caress and fondle, they all kissed Camphelia good-by, and the camp baby departed to return to its own home.

After a dirge had been composed by Jessie, who had bloomed into quite a poetess, and any number of farewell letters and wishes had been written for the good luck of the next campers at the Lake, these were buried in the ground under a cairn of stones with a tiny American flag fastened at the top. This was the girls’ memorial to the good times they had had, as well as an expression of the sadness they felt on leaving the place where they had spent three such happy weeks.

The sadness of parting with the friends they had made in Mrs. Van Vorst’s household—not the least being our friend Jimmie—was somewhat lessened when they learned that their hostess and her daughter were to accompany them to New York to spend a day or so with Mrs. Morrow.

Going down in the car, although surrounded by a merry, chattering crowd, Nathalie and Helen became unusually silent. Helen, perhaps, was thinking of the new position she was to enter on her return to Westport, and Nathalie,—well, she could not have told why, but soon she became aware that her thoughts had jumped backward and she was reviewing her first meeting with Helen and the Pioneers.

She half smiled as each one in turn presented herself to her as she first appeared; Barbara, with her queer staring eyes, absent-minded manner, and her frumpish clothes that always made Nathalie think of a five-and-ten-cent store. How often she had been tempted to laugh until she learned of the meanness of Barbara’s grandfather, for although he was a rich man Barbara had to scrimp and haggle to get enough to eat, to say nothing of clothes to cover her back. The tears came into her eyes when she realized the kind heart that beat so loyally beneath the despised apparel. After all, what were one’s clothes, mere externals necessary of course, but in reality only of face value, for surely they would never gain one an entrance into Heaven. And Helen, what would her life have been in her new home without this neighbor friend—who had taught her to master herself by helping her to overcome the many problems that had confronted her when she had become a Pioneer?

Then she smiled again as she thought of Lillie Bell, with her thrillers and dramatic poses. She had learned that they were but the frosting to the solid worth beneath. Indeed, the thrillers in a way had proved an incentive in the telling of her stories to Rosy, the opening wedge into the good things that had followed, meeting Nita, making the money for Dick, Mrs. Van Vorst’s asking the Pioneers to Eagle Lake, and so on. Why, when she came to think of it, there was not a girl in her bird group who had not helped her in some way, even Edith, who had taught her to guard her tongue.

And from the Pioneer industries and crafts she had learned to be useful. She thought of the first time she had tried to darn a stocking at the Rally. Yes, and they had helped her to be happy, for they had given her a purpose in life. As for the sports and activities, they had brought her in closer touch with nature, giving her a keener interest in things that had never appealed to her before. And the rules and laws, even the good old-timey women had all done their share in making definite those qualities which she now saw were necessary in order to be a success in life.

She realized, but dimly, perhaps, that she had gotten nearer the hearts of these people of the workaday world, not only Helen, but Edith and Jessie, who were all to be wage-earners that fall, thus opening up to her a new avenue of hopes and desires. Wasn’t it strange how she used to dread the thought of having to earn her own living, and now she was worrying as to how she could earn more money to add to what she had earned already for Dick! Then a sudden thought jarred, oh, suppose Mrs. Van Vorst, now that Nita had become so different with her sunburned cheeks and merry ways from what she had been before she met the Pioneers, should not want her any more! Oh, well, if that should be—ah, they were getting into New York! She stooped and had begun to gather up her belongings when some one spoke to her.

It was Mrs. Van Vorst, who, with her gracious little smile—how changed she seemed from on that morning when Nathalie had handed her the card in front of the library—said, “Nathalie, Nita and I are going to take a run up to St. Luke’s Hospital to visit that sick friend—you know the one I told you about, who just had an operation performed—and Nita wants you to go with us.”