“Why, it means,” explained Helen, “that we girls, to freshen up our minds on pioneer history, so that we may learn more about the women we emulate, name each of our rallies after some one group of pioneers, or some special pioneer woman, in memory of their service to us. Then we all talk about them, each one telling what she knows.”
“Or what she doesn’t know, generally,” broke in Lillie, dryly.
“I guess you are about right, Lillie,” added Grace, “for we are awfully rusty on pioneer history. It always seemed so stupid at school, but we have learned a lot since we started naming our rallies after pioneer things, and trying to see what we can cram. Why, girls,” she cried suddenly, as if impelled by inspiration to tell the latest thing she had learned, “do you know that there were almost thirty children who came over with the Pilgrims in the Mayflower?”
“Well, I for one did not,” remarked Jessie candidly; “I didn’t know that the Pilgrims had any children; supposed they were just a lot of blue-nosed men who wore high ruffs and tall, round hats, and who went about with long faces, telling people they would go to the devil if they dared to smile.”
“There, Jess,” broke in Lillie Bell mischievously, “you needn’t get profane over it.”
“Of course they were grim and forbidding-looking,” supplemented Kitty, “and—”
“And sanctimonious,” added some one, “with their blue laws.”
“Girls, you are all wrong,” spoke up Helen, with a sort of call-you-down air, “it was the Connecticut elders who made the blue laws. The Pilgrims were sincere, earnest men. Remember what Mrs. Morrow said about them?”
There was a sudden silence for a moment, and then a faint voice was heard from the other end of the veranda. Every one pricked up her ears and craned her neck to see who was speaking.
“Ye Stars! it is the Flower of the Family,” whispered Edith; “what has come to her?”