He turned towards his patient, and then with a kindly word for each of her little friends, he began to inquire as to how Rosy was. As Felia at this moment entered the room, Nathalie waved a good-by to Rosy, and surrounded by the three pickaninnies, each one eager to carry her basket, hurried out of the room and into the sunshine she had been telling about. The many comments made by her body-guard of three, showed how eager they were for the joys of story-land—a rare treat to them. Realizing how much can be taught a child through story-telling, as she had found when she was a child, Nathalie fell to thinking. By the time she reached home she had planned a story club—oh, it would be just the thing—if the Pioneers would agree to it. They could take turns, only an hour once or twice a week, in telling stories to these new friends of hers, and who knows, if the class grew they might eventually do a great deal of good? Still somewhat timid of taking the initiative, she planned to lay it before Helen and let the suggestion come from her.
Nathalie was trilling softly to herself little snatches of song, for somehow on that bright June day she felt very happy. She had started, as she told Helen, on a new career. Of course her mother had objected at first to her taking Felia’s place, but when she found that Nathalie was determined, she had consented, feeling that perhaps it would not harm her for a while. And then, too, she would learn many things she needed to know, and this was her opportunity to learn them. So Nathalie had won her consent, and with the help of Dorothy, who had been pressed into service, and the few things she allowed her mother to do, she had found her work slip along more easily than she had anticipated, and the thought that she was earning a mite towards a great object, as Helen said, had proved the glory.
And so she sang away, doing the week’s stint of darning, as the stocking drill at the Pilgrim Rally had helped her wonderfully, and now she was quite assured that her mother did not have to do her work over.
As she glanced up from her work to watch a tiny humming bird that was flitting among the leaves of the honeysuckle trellis, she heard the throb of an engine, and looked up to see Dr. Morrow’s car coming up the road. To her surprise, instead of running his car in through his gate to the garage, he brought it to a standstill in front of their house, alighted, and a moment later was coming briskly up the path.
His cheery greeting broke in upon her surprise as he cried, “Well, Blue Robin, so you are at home!” O dear! every one seemed to be calling her that nowadays, the girl thought a little ruefully.
“Good morning,” she cried; then her face paled apprehensively. “Oh, have you come about Dick—do you think his knee is worse?” she faltered, suddenly remembering that her brother had complained quite a little the last three days with the pain in his knee.
“No, I have not come about Dick,” was the reassuring answer. “I have come to see you on important business. Dick is doing as well as can be until he is operated on.”
Nathalie sighed, and then said, “Oh, Doctor, I do wish you would explain to me about Dick’s operation! Mother told me a little, but you see I don’t know much about these things.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows in pretended surprise and then he said in a serious tone, “I should say not. Such things as operations are not for little Blue Robins. They are supposed to trill little tru-al-lee songs, or tell fairy tales to children, as I hear some of them have been doing lately.”
The girl’s eyes grew bright. “Oh, we are all doing it. Has Mrs. Morrow told you about the Pioneer Story Club we have formed? Helen suggested it, in a way.” Nathalie was modest, for the suggestion had really come from herself, and also the planning with the aid of Helen’s wise head. “We go down to the colored settlement,” she continued, “every Saturday morning and take turns in telling stories to the little children. Don’t you think it a fine idea?” She spoke animatedly.