Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer

by Rena I. Halsey

“Thank you,” returned the girl and then, with a pang of regret as she noted her mother’s weary eyes, she bent and kissed her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry you had to work so hard!” she cried impulsively. “Isn’t there something I can do to help?” She almost wished her mother would say no.

“Not now,” replied her mother with a brighter expression than she had worn, “but perhaps you can help me later—when I get dinner.”

“All right,” returned her daughter with forced cheerfulness. As she entered the hall her eyes were caught by the word “Pioneer” in big, black letters on the manual. Reminded by the name that flaunted itself so determinedly before her, she remembered that she was a Pioneer, that she had taken vows upon herself, and that in order to keep these vows she should do the very things, perhaps, that she hated to do. This new thought jarred her uncomfortably as she hurried up to her room and began to make herself cool and comfortable after a rather strenuous morning spent in trying her hand at the many new interests that had come to her as a Pioneer.

But somehow she was haunted, as it were, by the thought that she was not making a good beginning as a Pioneer; oh, yes, being a Pioneer did not mean all play, or even doing the things that were interesting, or that one liked to do, those were the Director’s words that morning. The more one gives up or overcomes in order to do and accomplish the demands made upon her as a Pioneer, the greater the victory. She picked up the manual from the bureau and began to turn its leaves aimlessly, and then she halted, for two very small words held her eyes, “I can!” why, that was the Pioneer motto—the one Lillie Bell had mentioned when she told of the picked chicken. She would read the laws!

“A Girl Pioneer is trustworthy.” Oh, Nathalie was sure she was that. “Helpful,” her conscience pricked sharply. Was she helpful if she didn’t try and do all she could to help her mother? “O dear,” she ruminated, “I am shying at the first ‘overcome.’” She remembered that Mrs. Morrow had said all the disagreeable things that one didn’t want to do, but did in the end, were “overcomes.”

“Kind—” she heaved a sigh, well, she was afraid she hadn’t been very kind the other day when she had answered Lucille so sharply, but she was trying, and the hasty retort would slip out; she would have to put a button on her lips as her mother often told her.

“Reverent,” her religion taught her that. “Happy,” not always, for how could one be happy when life had been full of disappointments? Her eyes saddened as she thought of Dick, who was so patiently waiting for something to turn up, so that he could have the operation on his knee. Poor fellow! she had felt like crying the other day when she heard him telling how he had written to a law firm in the city in the hope that he could get some copying to do so that he could earn some money.

“Happiness does not always mean having what we want; it is being contented with what we have,” that was another of Mrs. Morrow’s interpretations of the Pioneer laws. “Cheerful,” here Nathalie broke into a laugh, quite sure she was always cheerful when she had the things she wanted. “There!” she cried aloud, “I am not going to read any more of those laws, for if I am to—” she stooped, for the manual had fallen to the floor. As she picked it up she again encountered the words, “I can.”

“I can!” she repeated once or twice mechanically. Then her face lighted, as if the meaning of the words had suddenly flashed themselves clear of the thoughts that had been revolving in her mind.