“Why, one of the Pioneer directors,” answered the farmerette smilingly, pleased at the young president’s surprise.
A moment’s inspection of the fine display of canned goods, and Nathalie turned to seek Lillie, but that young lady had mysteriously disappeared. One of the girls, suggesting that Lillie had gone to the Liberty Tea booth to regale herself with a cup of tea, Nathalie hurried on to that booth, where the Daughters of Liberty, attired in quaint, old-time costumes, dispensed that beverage.
But Lillie was not drinking tea, and again Nathalie hurried across the lawn, on her way to the opposite booth, a mass of vines and flowers, the result of the labors of the Girl Scouts in their garden, which they had named the Garden of Freedom.
Ah, here was Lillie talking to a brown-clad soldier-boy by the big Liberty pole that had been erected in the center of the lawn, facing the Red Cross booth. It flew the Stars and Stripes and the club’s ensign, a little red banner blazoned with the white stars of hope, while a big liberty bell was hung from a cross-beam. On its flag-bedecked platform Carol Tyke was stationed as the bell-ringer, for later in the afternoon she was to strike the big bell to announce some patriotic speech, or fiery oration, to be made in a sharp drive to sell the Liberty bonds.
Lillie, seeing Nathalie coming in her direction, advanced towards her, and immediately presented her soldier-friend, and in a few moments the three young people were having a sprightly chat. But Nathalie, soon recalled to the business on hand, turned and told the young vice-president why she was so anxious to see her.
“Yes; yes, indeed, Nathalie,” cried the girl quickly. “I am Hooverizing this summer, and as I do not expect to leave town until late in the fall, I shall be most delighted to accept the office of acting president for the summer.”
A few moments later, relieved of her anxiety as to what would become of the Liberty Girls in case she went to the mountains, Nathalie thanked her friend, and hastened over to the Garden of Freedom, where nasturtiums, pink poppies, sweet peas, phlox, and other old-fashioned blooms peered at her in a riotous flaunt of color.
The Girl Scouts, who were charmingly gotten up to represent flowers, beamed with pleasure as their president complimented them on the splendid display they made, and the honor they had won by their hard labor. They not only sold cut flowers, but potted plants, as well as toothsome sweets, made without sugar, they declared, as they coaxingly tempted Nathalie to sample a few.
But she had time only for a nibble or two, and then she was off to the knitting booth, where a bewildering assortment of sweaters, helmets, mufflers, socks, and other knitted articles stared at her in a “homespuney” sort of way that reminded her of her grandmother. She remembered how, as a child, she used to watch her as she sat by the fire knitting, and the fun it was when the ball went rolling under the table and she scrambled after it.
No, she could not hurry by this booth, for Marie’s eyes, big but shy, and bright with a beautiful soft blackness, shone so pleadingly from the clear pallor of her ivory-tinted skin, that they could not be resisted. “Oh, Mees President,” cried the girl in her soft musical voice, “I shall tell somethings on you. I likes that you look at mine table—iss it not shmardt, hein? My mamma she says it iss stylish. Shure, und the peoples—oh, they buys und buys lots and lots of sweaters, und mufflers, und the helmets—yiss, ma’am, they have a glad on them, for they go fast mit the wind.”