CHAPTER V—THE GRAY STONE HOUSE
“Do you know, Helen,” exclaimed Nathalie, looking at her friend with reminiscent eyes, “that it is only three weeks since I met you, but it seems like three months.”
“That is because you have been on probation for a Pioneer,” retorted Helen smilingly, “and are beginning to take life more seriously.”
“Not very seriously, I am afraid,” lamented Nathalie, “judging from the bungle I made in trying to learn that square knot.”
“Oh, you will learn,” encouraged Helen, “but I must be off, for I have some typing to do for to-morrow.” Yes, Helen’s new friend knew that she was learning to be a stenographer. When that little fact had been divulged in the natural course of events, Nathalie had listened with great interest to Helen’s declaration of her life purpose—to be independent—not only for the pleasure that independence would bring to her, but because she wanted to earn money so that she could give her mother little comforts and luxuries that Mrs. Dame had been denied because her husband’s income was limited.
Instead of scorning her, as the girl had feared, Nathalie had wished her great success, apparently appreciating the unselfish motive that actuated her, while lamenting that she herself was not as clever.
“O dear,” she had impulsively declared, “I want to earn money, too; oh, if I only had a purpose in life! I do not want to be a drone.” And then on the impulse of the moment she had confided to Helen her many disappointments, and how anxious they all were about her brother Dick, fearful that he might never recover the use of his leg. To Helen it had seemed that since these mutual confidences a closer friendship had grown up between them, much to that young lady’s joy.
She had just finished hearing Nathalie recite the Pioneer Pledge and laws, give the names of the Presidential party, as Nathalie called them, adding the name of the governor of the State in which she lived, describe the United States flag, sew a button on—as it should be done, she had declared with solemn unction—and then exhibit her skill at tying a square knot.
“After you become a Bluebird at the Pilgrim Rally to-morrow, I shall begin to drill you in the tests necessary to make you a Second-Class Pioneer,” Helen had declared when the lesson was over and she began to gather up her sewing materials.
“Oh, will you?” cried Nathalie, “but when can I become one?”