Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer

by Rena I. Halsey

In another moment the fresh young voices, accompanied by a swing of heads and a tap of feet, were singing, to the tune of “Oh, Maryland, My Maryland”:

“We laugh, we sing, we jump, we run,
We’re Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!
We’re always having lots of fun;
We’re Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!
The wild birds answer to our call,
These feathered friends in trees so tall;
We learn to know them one and all.
We’re Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!

Refrain.
We’re Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!
We’re Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!
We will be brave, and kind, and true;
We’re Pioneers, Girl Pioneers!”

Nathalie, who was enjoying this musical treat immensely, and longed to join in, suddenly gave a start. She had heard a familiar hand strike the keyboard of the piano, and then start in with the tune the girls were singing, while a clear, high, soprano voice—one that the girl had never heard before—took up the air, and in a moment was leading the girls in their song, and as though accustomed to do it.

She saw one or two of the girls smile at another in a mysterious way, and began to wonder what it all meant. As the last verse came to a close, and there were three, Mrs. Page stepped through the low French window from the living-room on the veranda, followed by a figure in white and Dick, who was hobbling along on a broom turned upside down.

There was a silent moment, and then the Girl Pioneers had jumped to their feet and were saluting the lady in white, for it was Mrs. Morrow, their Director. No, they did not touch their shoulders as in the salute to Helen, their group leader, but the forehead, in military salute.

Mrs. Morrow returned the salute, and then, as the girls broke into their Pioneer yell, came over to Nathalie without waiting for an introduction. But the young hostess had risen to her feet and was standing with outstretched hand.

“Oh, my dear! you must sit down, or you may strain your foot!” cried Mrs. Morrow anxiously, as she caught Nathalie’s hand in hers and smiled down at her with luminous gray eyes, the kind that seem to radiate hearty good-will and cheer. Her greeting was so gracious, and there was such an undefinable charm in the bright face of the young matron, that Nathalie surrendered immediately.

“I did not mean to intrude on your sport, girls,” cried Mrs. Morrow in a moment, turning toward the group, still holding Nathalie’s hand, “but I was as anxious as you all were to meet our new neighbor.”