THE BLUE BIRDS
AT HAPPY HILLS

BY
LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY
AUTHOR OF THE “FIVE LITTLE
STARRS” SERIES, ETC.

New York
THE PLATT & NOURSE CO.

Copyright, 1919,
BY
THE PLATT & NOURSE CO.

CONTENTS

THE BLUE BIRDS AT
HAPPY HILLS

CHAPTER I
KEEPING UNCLE BEN’S APPOINTMENT

“We are ready to start, but where are the twins?” exclaimed Jinks impatiently. Jinks was Meredith Starr’s chum who lived next door to the Starrs.

“Why, they were here but a moment ago!” said Mete.

“Perhaps they ran on to Mossy Glen without us,” came from Lavinia Starr, two years older than the twins, who were eight.

A shrill whistle from the woods then told the three waiting children that Don and Dot Starr were half-way to the meeting place. The Blue Birds and Bobolinks were going to meet at the barn, known now as the Publishing Offices, to start thence for the ten-forty train to New York.

“Hurry up, we’ve wasted three minutes waiting for those awful twins!” sighed Vene—the nickname for Lavinia.

At the Publishing Offices on the Mossy Glen estate, the three late arrivals found all the members assembled. Ruth and Ned Talmage had not far to walk as their home was at Mossy Glen, and the Starr children including Jinks were now accounted for. Besides these two groups, there were the other girl-members of the Blue Bird Club, or Nest, and the boys who founded the society called Bobolinks, that published the magazine and other important printed matter—such as tickets, notices, programmes, etc.

“Here come Ike and Jim—can we all crowd into those two autos, do you think?” asked Ned, anxiously.

“It will not be the first time they’ve carried such a load,” laughed Jinks.

Just as the children climbed eagerly into the two cars, Mrs. Talmage appeared hurrying along the path from the house.

“Now Ned—remember! Don’t allow anyone to go other than the way I’ve directed you. This is the first time that we grown-ups consented to have you children go to New York alone, and you must be careful to follow all advices from us,” declared Mrs. Talmage, with a note of anxiety in her tone.

“Oh, we’ll be all right, mother; don’t worry. Aren’t Mete and Jinks and I almost grown up?” said Ned, soothingly.

“No, you’re not! You three boys are just as full of mischief as Don Starr, and everyone knows what we have to endure from him!” sighed Mrs. Talmage.

The children all laughed—Dot Starr the twin, laughing loudest, but Don looked as dark as a thunder-cloud at his friends.

“Guess you all got out of bed with a left foot, this morning! That accounts for the grouches!” grumbled Don.

Another laugh failed to bring harmony into Don’s discordant heart just then, so Mrs. Talmage turned again to Ned:

“When you get off the train at Hoboken, you take the tube uptown—remember now, uptown! Don’t get on the cars that go to Newark or Cortlandt Street. Ask a guard which is the right train to carry you to 23rd Street.

“Then walk across from the 23rd Street exit to Fourth Avenue, and up Fourth to Uncle Ben’s address. You have it written on the letter, Ned, so you simply can’t go wrong!”

“We won’t go wrong, Mother. You only think we may!”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake—hurry up! We’ll miss that train,” complained Don, who now had an opportunity to give vent to his ire.

“Good-by, children! I wish you would telephone me as soon as you arrive at Uncle Ben’s offices, so I will know you are all right!” said Mrs. Talmage as the cars rolled away.

The party had ample time to board the train at the little station of Oakdale, and soon they found themselves in Hoboken—the terminal for the Jersey suburban trains.

As they were passing the news-stand at the foot of the steps that led to the tubes under the river, Don saw a variety of tempting candies.

“I’ve got my week’s allowance with me, Dot—do you want some chewing-gum?” asked her twin.

“S-sh! They’ll hear you! And you know Vene won’t let us have chewing-gum,” warned Dot, glancing at the other children. But they had not heard Don, as they were interested in buying the tickets to New York.

This was a perplexing matter, as tickets for Dot, Don, and Tuck Stevens were to be at half-price, and those of the other children at full-price. The twins took advantage of the problem to buy a box of gum and a roll of chocolate disks.

“Oh! Looka here! We’ve got ten pieces of gum for a nickel!” chuckled Don, delightedly, as he emptied the box into his palm.

“You take five and I’ll take five,” suggested Dot.

“Why, no! Didn’t I pay for them? You take one and when you want another I’ll give it to you.”

“But I always go even shares with you when I get anything at home,” argued Dot.

“That’s different! You don’t pay out your hard-earned money for it, and I had to. Why, just think how many times last week I had to be at school on time! Didn’t that mean getting out of bed so early that I ’most got insomnia from it?”

Dot had an inspiration. She hastily began chewing the single piece of white-candied gum and determined to ask for a second piece soon, as Don had promised to give her another one when she wanted it.

Don now hastened in front of his sister, to join the other children, but he was too preoccupied with the gum to notice where he went. He heard a guard call: “All aboard!” and he rushed in dragging Dot after him—just in time! The door was closed and away sped the train.

“Where’s Ned—and Jinks, and the others?” gasped Dot, the moment they found themselves safe on the moving train.

Don could not reply. He seemed to have a great obstruction in his mouth. Finally he shoved the obstacle over in the hollow of a cheek and gurgled out:

“Guess they went in the car ahead to be nearer the exit gate when we get there.”

“Don Starr! What have you got in your mouth?” demanded Dot, suspecting the truth.

“Gum, of course! What have you got?” retorted Don.

“I’ve got one piece! How many have you?”

“I’ve got what I paid for!” snapped Don, but he had the grace to blush at his selfishness.

“I—I just wish you’d swallow it! So there!” cried Dot, who had unwisely thrown away the gum she had, to induce her twin to give her a new piece.

Don glared only—he could not speak comfortably. Dot was so offended that she started to walk through the forward car in search of her friends. “Where’er yeh goin’, Missy?” asked a guard, stopping her.

“To find the others. They must be in front,” said Dot.

“Got your ticket? I didn’t see you drop one in the box back yonder, cuz I was watchin’ the two of yuh,” was the astonishing reply from the guard.

“Ticket! Don, have you got a ticket?”

“No—Ned got all of them,” replied Don, but he was so hasty in moving the gum out of his tongue’s way to permit him to speak, that it almost slipped down his throat.

A tremendous coughing and choking spell caught Don, and his face turned as red as a poppy, while Dot hammered his back exultantly—now she had a chance to get even with him!

“Where’er yeh goin’—Jersey City?” now asked the guard.

“Jersey City! Why—no. We are to get off at 23rd Street,” explained Dot, surprised for the time.

“This is a Newark train,” announced the guard, wondering what he could do with two stray children.

“Oh, my goodness! Maybe Ned isn’t on this train. Was there another train in the same station?” gasped Dot.

“Sure—one on either side of the platform, but we’re always hollerin’ out where we go so folks won’t get mixed,” returned the guard.

Don couldn’t allow Dot to take the lead in this exciting adventure, but he could not speak with his mouth full, so he slyly dropped the gum in one palm and held his hand in his pocket. Then he was free to take his part.

“Which is the nearest stop to 23rd Street?” asked he.

“Well, we will now stop at the Erie Station; next is Jersey City, and so on till we reach Newark. Why?” replied the man.

“I’m thinking we could get off and take some car back.”

“That’s what you’ll have to do anyway, ’cause you haven’t any ticket to show. But I don’t see how you are goin’ to ride back again widdout payin’ at all!” explained the man.

Then a light seemed to break in upon them at the same time! They caught hold of the guard’s coat and laughed:

“Don’t you see! Ned had all the money and tickets, so he dropped them for us when he went through the gateway!”

“And diden’ you’se spend your ticket money for candy?” asked the guard, suspiciously, as he knew the weakness of youngsters, having a brood at home.

“Cross my heart, we didn’t! I used my week’s spending money. Last week I didn’t earn any cuz I owed it all!” said Don, anxiously.

“All out for Erie Railroad!” now yelled the guard, as the train pulled in and it was his duty to open the doors.

“Git off here and wait fer a train what comes in on th’ other side the platform!” called he, shoving Don and Dot out from blocking the doorway.

“Much obliged! Good-by!” called Don, about to wave his hand that had been hidden in his pocket. The other hand grasped Dot’s sleeve.

The door slammed, the train moved out, and the twins were left standing alone. Don found he could not withdraw his hand readily, and discovered that the gum had not only stuck fast to his fingers but had also clutched a hold on various articles a boy always carries in his pocket.

“Dot you go and ask the newspaper man how long before a New York car comes in?” suggested Don, as he wished to be alone when that gum came forth.

Dot, proud to be trusted by her brother with such an important mission, ran away and Don hurriedly set to work. After much tugging the gum came out and with it came a marble, a broken jackknife, a fish-hook, a brass button, a sling-shot, and a few other treasures.

Don did his best to extricate his personal property from the gum without wasting too much of the rare treat. So he carefully chewed off every bit that clung to each article as he pulled it forth. He replaced the treasures in his pocket and thrust the gum in his mouth just as Dot came back.

“See that red sign—up there?” said she, pointing to an electric sign overhead.

“Well, that reads where the trains go. This one just coming in is uptown the man said.”

With that she dragged her twin aboard without ceremony—was he not chewing that gum again, and did she have any? No, sir!

Dot refused to speak a word to Don as they were whisked along to the Hoboken terminal. Here they jumped off and stood and looked about anxiously for their friends. Not a child was to be seen besides themselves.

“Did they go back to the train to find us?” asked Dot.

“No, they got on the New York cars and thought we were on, too. When they get to 23rd Street they’ll miss us and wait there till we come,” explained Don, taking the gum from his mouth again to speak.

“What shall we do?”

“Get on the first train for uptown,” replied Don.

“There’s one—I’m going to ask the man where it goes,” announced Dot, running to a guard standing by his platform.

“Where do you go?” asked the little girl.

“Downtown, New York.”

“Thank you,” and Dot walked away.

Another string of cars pulled in, and other guards got off after the passengers had left. Dot ran up to one and said:

“Where do you go?”

“Jersey City, Manhattan Junction, Harrison, and Newark!” called the man, without paying any attention to the child.

“Guess that isn’t it, yet,” thought Dot, giving the man a scornful look because he would not notice her.

The twins waited and waited, and then another train came in where the downtown train had pulled out.

“Hurrah!—Read the sign in the windows! ‘Uptown New York,’ Dot!” cried Don, crowding on before anyone could get in ahead of him.

Thus it happened that Don walked into a car without waiting for Dot, and she, being small, was pushed back by the grown-ups till the last. Just as she was about to step on, Jinks caught her skirt.

“Thank goodness! Here you are! We’ve all been hunting high and low for the two of you.”

“Why—where did you come from?” questioned Dot.

“Just came in on that car over there—I saw you waiting, before my train stopped, and tried to hurry out to prevent you from leaving us.”

As he spoke, Dot stepped back beside Jinks, and the guard shut the door and pulled the signal cord. Instantly the train moved and carried Don uptown alone. He had not seen Jinks and thought Dot was behind him as he walked through the sections looking for his friends.

“There now! Don is gone!” cried Dot, stamping her foot.

“On that car!” gasped Jinks, trying hard to choke back a laugh.

“Yes, and now he’ll get losted, too!”

“Not if he gets out at 23rd! We left Vene there to grab you if you reached that far,” explained Jinks.

“Where’s Ned and Mete, and the others?”

“Ned went to Cortlandt Street and agreed to meet me at Hoboken again. Mete went to Jersey City and other stations to ask for you. We left Ruth with the other Blue Birds and Bobolinks in care of Vene at 23rd Street station. Here comes a downtown train.”

It stopped and Ned stepped off. He glowered at Dot and asked: “What under the sun do you twins think we are, anyway?”

“Nuthin’ much, if you can’t take charge of a few children!” retorted Dot, glowering as darkly as he.

Jinks burst out laughing. “No use feeling upset about it, Ned. No one yet has been able to scold the twins!”

Another train now pulled in and Mete got off.

“I’d just like to know what right you trouble-makers had to leave us and wander around by yourselves?” demanded he, angrily.

“We didn’t wander—we rode! And what’s more you just got off the same kind of train we got on, so you went the same route!” exclaimed Dot, scornfully.

Now the train from uptown came in on its last stop at Hoboken. Off stepped Vene. She hurried over to join her friends with the exclamation:

“Oh, I saw Don on the train, but he didn’t get off at 23rd Street where I waited. Before I could call or get his attention, the cars moved on. I waited but he didn’t come back and I don’t know what to do!”

“What did you come here for?” demanded Mete, impatiently.

“I knew you would be here and could tell me what to do.”

“Yes, and most likely, by the time we all get back to 23rd Street, those other nuisances will have escaped! Then we’ll waste a whole day in hunting them up, instead of visiting Uncle Ben on time!” cried Mete, beside himself.

“No, no! I left them sitting in a row on the bench with a colored porter to guard them. I promised him some money if he would keep them right where they sat!”

“Fine! I tell you boys—Vene is a true suffrage girl! She uses her wits as well as we men do!” exclaimed Jinks, approvingly, for he was Lavinia’s chief admirer those days.

“Pooh! If she was your sister you wouldn’t think so!”

“All aboard—uptown train!” now bawled a guard, and all else was forgotten in the scurry to get on.

Dot felt worried about her twin, but being in such disgrace already, she did not add to her troubles by asking for Don.

Soon the guard announced “23rd Street” and the children trooped off. There sat the members of the Blue Birds and Bobolinks in a row on a bench, and a negro man standing beside them was apparently enjoying himself, as he listened to an orator standing at one end of the long bench. It was Don who held forth with such a flow of rhetoric.

“Say you, Don Starr! How came you here?” shouted half a dozen voices, as as many individuals ran over and caught hold of the boy.

At the sudden shaking, Don dropped something. Dot saw it fall and gave it a vicious kick. It was a huge ball of gum. Don saw it and knew what had caused it to roll away. He glared at Dot, and then turned to the boys.

“Mighty good thing I got my wits about me! You boys aren’t worth a cent to look after a bunch of youngsters! I know how to travel, all right! I’ve been to Jersey City, Hoboken, Erie, and Christopher Street, Ninth Street, Fourteenth Street, Eighteenth, Twenty-third, Twenty-eighth and Thirty-third Streets, all in an hour—and here I am as fresh as ever!”

“Fresh—of course you are! And I’m going to have Uncle Ben take a lot of it out of you just as soon as we get to his office!” threatened Mete.

“No you won’t either! I telephoned him from the 33rd Street station to ask him what to do and he said: ‘Go and wait at 23rd Street station as planned, and bring them all over here as soon as possible. You are almost an hour late for the appointment!’ so I am to take charge now, and see that we all get over to the office as quickly as you can travel!”

The children laughed at the order from Don, and then started up the steps to the street, but did not see Don stoop to catch up the ball of gum. He planned to wash it well at a drinking place he knew of in his uncle’s office.

Without further mishap, they all reached the 18th floor where Uncle Ben’s office was located, and Don slipped away. The gum was soon washed, and he chewed as noisily as ever as he ran after the last one to enter the door leading from the main hall to the offices.

“Don Starr! what are you chewing?” demanded Vene, in a disgusted tone.

“Nawthin’!”

“Yes, you are, too! Ned, see what he’s chewing! I just know it’s gum!” from shocked Vene.

“Don, are you chewing gum?” asked Ned.

“I’m not chewing a thing—can’t you see my jaws are as quiet as yours—quieter, cuz you’re talking!”

“Were you chewing gum?” now came severely from Mete.

“Not that you noticed it!” said Don, saucily.

“Open that mouth of yours!” demanded Mete.

“Can’t—my tooth is hooked!” replied Don, a faint twinkle beginning to wrinkle his eyes.

“I’ll yank the tooth out—open your mouth!” and Mete caught hold of his younger brother’s shoulders and shook him.

A choking, a sputtering, and a great confusion followed as Don was forced to give up the gum.

“Oh—you! you—you——” but Vene had no words to convey her horror at the untruth she felt Don had told.

“Good gracious—what a chunk! How could you crowd it in at one time!” gasped Mete, when he saw the size of the gum.

“He chewed nine pieces at once!” eagerly attested Dot.

“Did you chew the tenth?” was the unexpected query from Ned.

“Only the teeniest bit—just to get the flavor, then I threw it away!” admitted Dot.

“Oh, really!” from several voices.

“And she got angry when I wouldn’t give her five even!” added Don, scowling at everyone.

“Why did you say you couldn’t open your mouth ’cause your tooth was fast? Didn’t you know you were fibbing?” asked Ned.

“I didn’t say one word that was a lie! Now you think! My tooth was hooked. I had to use that gum to keep my tooth from getting cold and aching again. The dentist told me always to keep the nerve covered when I went outdoors. He said it was an exposed nerve that made a tooth jump. So I did as he advised me, that’s all!” explained Don.

Not another word was said about the gum then, as the inner door to Uncle Ben’s offices was reached and the Publishers went in where all was quiet, and such a thing as gum was never thought of!

CHAPTER II
WHO’S GOING TO HAPPY HILLS?

“Hello, Finn—where’er yeh goin’ in sech a hurry?” asked a newsboy of a pal who was hurrying past.

“Oh—hello, Skelly! I’m lookin’ fer that chap what knows about them passes fer camp.”

“Hully chee, Finn! Yeh don’t tell me ye’re goin’ to that Sunday School place—what?” jeered the boy called Skelly.

“’Tain’t a prayer-meetin’ camp, neider! It’s a regerler camp fer boys and gals. I was told there’s not a bit of Sunday School stunts goin’ on there,” replied Finn, defensively.

“Huh, all the same, you’ll come back actin’ like a little lady! Dey’ll cure yuh of cigarettes, matchin’ pennies and all the udder fun we’ve had,” scorned Skelly, bitterly.

“See here, now! I ain’t wantin’ the ticket fer meself—it’s only fer my sick sister, yuh know. The Doc said she’d got to git out of that hot, dark room in the tenement, and where kin I keep her—on’y in a camp like this is?” explained the worried brother to the leader of the Ludlow Street gang.

“Oh, I see,” returned Skelly, apologetically, “An’ so yeh want to find Ike who’s got the address of the place!”

“That’s it! Have yeh seen him this mornin’?” asked Finn.

“He went uptown to see the man at the printin’ office. He tol’ me all the tickets he had on hand were given out and he needed more. Why don’t yuh trot up and see the man yourself instead of hangin’ ’round waitin’ fer Ike?” ventured Skelly.

“Guess I will—where is it?”

Skelly thereupon dug down into the pockets of a ragged pair of trousers and finally brought to view a dirty scrap of paper. Upon it was scrawled: “Benjamin Talmage, Manager of Blue Bird Camp at Happy Hills, 354 Fourth Avenue, New York.”

“Dat’s up near 23rd Street, yuh know,” Skelly added, as Finn read aloud the address.

“I’ll git a hitch on a truck goin’ up, and try to see the boss right away,” said Finn, his face expressing relief at having some tangible plan to act upon.

Thanks and the verbal expression of gratitude were unknown to the street Arabs of New York, but Skelly knew from Finn’s face that he appreciated the information, and that was all that was required of a friend.

A large auto-truck sped past the boys, and Finn was soon perched on the tailboard, waving his old cap at Skelly. The truck turned in at 23rd Street to go its way to the East Side, so Finn jumped off and scanned the numbers of the tall office buildings as he started uptown.

“Hah! Here it is! Hully chee, what a swell shanty!” said he to himself as he stood wondering whether to enter the tiled hall. Would the elevator starter permit a boy so ragged and dirty to go up in one of those shiny lifts?

He still pondered this momentous question when Ike ran out and almost into him.

“Looka where yer goin’, why don’che?” grumbled Finn, then seeing that it was Ike, he clapped him soundly on the back.

“Aw, I say, Ikey! Gim’me a ticket fer me sister?”

“Look out what’che crackin’, Finny! Dat’s my back lung what sounds so holler when you beat it,” grinned Ike, the good-natured boy from Rivington Street who had won fame as a ticket-distributor for Happy Hills.

“Got one to spare?” anxiously continued Finn.

“Nope! Yeh got’ta apply personal. I’ll go up wid yeh if you wants one bad,” offered Ike.

“Come along den—I need yeh to help talk;” so the two were soon going up.

After leaving the elevator, the two boys walked down a very long corridor with offices on either side. Said Ikey:

“Now, you’se wants to be careful how you’se talk in here, see? Mr. Ta’mage is a fine chentlman and don’t like no slang. Mebbe yeh better keep yer mouth shet altogether an’ let me do the talkin’—cuz, yeh know, Finn, yeh do spill an awful lot of slang widger English!”

Finn was properly impressed and consented to have Ikey do all the talking. By this time the boys reached the door leading to the suite of offices they sought.

“Please, ma’am, tell Mr. Ta’mage Ikey Einstein is back yet—Micky Finn, too, wants to make his acquaintance,” said Ikey to the pretty telephone operator who sat near the door.

“Yank off yer cap, Finn—hurry up quick, before she sees it!” hissed Ikey in his companion’s ear as they stood waiting for an answer. Ikey had removed his apology for a hat when entering.

“Mr. Talmage says will you be seated, he’ll be out in a moment,” announced the girl, with a smile at the young visitors.

Ikey knew the particular bench meant for waiting callers, and silently led Finn to it. No sooner were they seated than the door by which they had just entered was flung open and a number of children of their own age came in.

“Hello, Miss Johnson! Uncle Ben in?” called the youngest boy in the group.

“He’s busy now, and has two waiting to see him,” was the young lady’s reply after she had acknowledged Don’s greeting—for the boy was our old friend and favorite, Don Starr, and his companions were no less than the officers of the Blue Bird and Bobolink Publishing Society that issued the monthly magazine for Little Citizens.

At the nod of Miss Johnson’s head in the direction of the two who were waiting, Don spun around and recognized one of them.

“Well, well, if this isn’t our friend Ikey!” said Don, in his tone and manners for all the world like a grown man, as he caught Ikey’s hand and shook it heartily.

The other children—Ned and Ruth Talmage, Meredith, Jinks, Lavinia, and Dot Starr, turned at Don’s words to watch the two boys.

“Where under the sun did Don meet that boy?” whispered Lavinia to her brother Meredith.

“Say, Vene, where does Don find anything he wants to get hold of!” returned Meredith, chuckling at his younger brother.

“I know!” now declared Dot Starr, Don’s twin sister.

The others waited for her to explain, so she placed a hand at the side of her mouth to prevent the two strange boys from hearing what she whispered.

“They are newsboys who first heard of us at the ‘Tree of Light’ last Christmas. Ikey is the thin one and he was at that Easter Egg Picnic in Van Cortlandt Park, too. That’s where Don met him; Ikey had such a lot of eggs that we asked where he got all of them, ’cause we knew he couldn’t have had that many to start with. And he told——”

“S-sh! Not so loud, Dot! He’ll hear you. What did he tell you?” interpolated Jinks.

“Why, you know he works in a newspaper printing place where they hire boys to clean up messes of inks and trash, and run errands, too. Ikey got a lot of free tickets from the printer to some lecture and he traded them in, a ticket for every egg he could get. Then he told Don he was going to sell those eggs downtown to his friends.”

“Did he?” asked Ruth, surprised that anyone would want to sell Easter Eggs.

“I’m going over and find out—I guess that’s what Don is talking about now,” replied Dot, joining her twin brother.

“Say, Dot, Ikey just told me he made 56 cents on those Easter eggs, and now he’s set up in business—newspaper business of his own. He wants me to go in as his partner—what do you think of it?” said Don in a low voice, for fear his brother or Jinks might overhear the plan.

“Pooh! You couldn’t leave Oakdale for a newspaper business, and what’s the good of having a business if you can’t look after it yourself?” replied Dot.

“He could yust invest his money an’ I’d look after it,” hurriedly explained Ikey, all for business.

“If Don looked after all he ought to at home, he’d have more interests than he could take care of. No sir! You leave Ikey Einstein to manage his own investment!” decided Dot, the practical.

“You’re jealous ’cause you were left out—that’s what!” said Don, impatiently, as Dot pulled him back to his friends.

Uncle Ben came out just then, and shook hands with his Oakdale friends. “Just go in that director’s room until I finish talking to these two young men, will you?”

So the little Talmages and Starrs and Jinks left Uncle Ben with Ikey and Micky Finn.

“Mr. Ta’mage, dis newspaper boy’s got a bad-off sister to which a Doc says she must get away quick to the country fer fresh air or a grave. Now Finn—he’s Micky Finn, you know, an’ a fren’ of mine—says he ain’t got no country place an’ neider have we got a cemetery lot if Nelly goes and dies, but mebbe you kin let her come right away, quick, to Happy Hills so she kin get well and not need a grave.”

Ikey told the story in one breath so that at the last he was not very distinct, but Uncle Ben knew the story—there were so many, many more just like it in the city! If only Happy Hills had fifty times the number of acres fitted up with fifty times the number of camp-nests!

“Micky, how old is your sister Nelly?” asked Mr. Talmage.

“She’s two years younger’n me,” stammered Finn.

“And how old are you, little man?” continued Uncle Ben, placing a friendly hand on the urchin’s shoulder.

The touch and tone made Micky Finn brace his backbone with conscious pride as he replied:

“I’m mos’ twelve, sur, an’ I’ve been the bread-winner fer th’ fam’ly fer four years—ain’t I, Ikey?”

“Shure he has! An’ Nelly gits more’n lots of sick gals we know, ’cuz Finn won’t play craps ner match pennies like the udder boys do!” bragged Ikey, anxious to win a ticket for Micky.

“Well, let me see! Who will go with Nelly, to take care of her? Have you any other sisters or family to travel with her?” asked Uncle Ben.

“We had a sister two years older’n us but she disappeared one night an’ we never hearn tell of her agin. She worked in a tobacco-shop. Since then, I had all the supportin’ to do. That was last summer, she went wid anudder gal to Coney Island an’ never got back.”

“I’ll have to write down your address, Finn, and send a lady down to see Nelly. If everything is all right, she will arrange to take your sister to the country at once. I’ll make out the ticket myself. Now you can go out and spend week-ends with her if you like. And should you take a summer vacation, you can go to Happy Hills free of cost for two weeks,” explained Mr. Talmage.

Micky Finn was so overwhelmed with gratitude and surprise at this unexpected invitation that he stood gaping at his benefactor, but said not a word.

“T’ank the chentleman, Micky! Can’t che t’ank him nice, fer what he’s gone and done fer you an’ Nelly?” Ikey said with a scowl at his friend for whom he was sponsor.

“I do thank—Aw, get out, Ikey! De gentleman knows the choky way I feel in my windpipe! Don’che, Mister?” wailed Finn.

“Yes, Micky, I know just how you feel, and I feel just as happy as if you had thanked me with every word known to convey the feeling of gratitude,” said Mr. Talmage, smiling.

“Dat’s all right to say to him, Mr. Ta’mage, but I don’t like my fren’s what I bring up here to do nuttin’ what ain’t all jus’ right. We all gotta remember to say what folks like you’se say to each udder, ef we’re goin’ to live at Happy Hills!” rebuked Ikey Einstein, thoughtfully.

“That’s right, too, Ikey, but you have had more opportunities to practice than Micky had; when he meets us often, he, too, will begin to change his habits and ways of expressing himself.”

As Mr. Talmage spoke, Micky Finn recalled the words his pal Skelly had said a short time before: something about becoming a little lady with fine manners but no fun!

“Good gracious, Uncle Ben—aren’t you most done talking to those boys?” called Don Starr from the door of the director’s room.

“Coming right now, Don! Well, Micky, let me know when you want to go and spend Sunday with your sister. I’ll try and get her off in a day or two,” said Mr. Talmage. Then the two street waifs took their departure.

Of course, you know what it is all about, don’t you? You remember what Uncle Ben did in the last Blue Bird book, and how the camps at Happy Hills progressed so that they might be ready to receive Little Citizens as early as the last of May?

If you have forgotten how the Nests and other plans at Aunt Selina’s country place were to be built, I will repeat the description.

The great estate and farm of Happy Hills in the Valley of Delight, had a fine large woodland tract where the Nests were built. A shallow brook ran through the woods, offering all sorts of fun and convenience to the little campers. At one side of the woodland lay a fertile stretch of land that was divided into many squares, one for each child at camp, to be used as farms. In this soil, a Little Citizen might dig and plant and harvest different kinds of vegetables and flowers and have them all for his own. No one could trespass or take away what a child planted on his or her own farm.

The Nests were large enough to hold six bunks and a bed. The bunks, three on either side of the square room, were to be for the six Little Citizens occupying that Nest, and the bed at the end would be for the Mother Bird of that particular Nest. Besides the bunks and bed, there was a locker and a clothes-tree at the head of each bunk. The lockers had lids to be closed and locked to hold personal things belonging to the child who was given that section of the Nest. It could also be used as a seat.

Each Nest was about fifteen feet square, and posts held up a sloping roof to shed the rain. This roof extended about two feet over the outer line of the square room to protect the beds and lockers from the rain when it stormed. Another arrangement to keep the inside of the Nest dry, was a canvas curtain that rolled up on spring-rollers in fair weather, but came down in wet or cold weather, to act as a wall or screen. These curtains buttoned down the sides and at the bottom.

A gallery three feet wide extended about the outside of the Nest. This narrow veranda was railed in safely by a three-foot fence to keep the children from falling off the platform of the Nest which was raised a few feet above the ground.

The Refectory was a large open building equipped with rain-proof curtains also, but on fair days they were rolled up so that it was like a great pavilion. Even the long tables and chairs folded up and could be quickly stacked up at one end of the room if the space was wanted for games or meetings.

Besides the sleeping Nests and the Refectory, there were a tool-house, a carpenter shop for teaching carpentry, a machine-shop to teach mechanics, a library with books and papers to read, and in fact many other departments for the education of boys and girls.

As you read in the last chapter of “The Blue Birds’ Uncle Ben,” the children published their June number of the magazine and planned to suspend for July and August. In this June issue they showed photographs of Happy Hills and the Nests ready to receive tenants for the summer. And as every benevolent institution and child’s hospital, as well as the Welfare Workers and physicians known to be interested in the poor children received a copy of the June magazine, the boys and girls publishing it felt sure there would be plenty of applicants to fill the camp.

So work went on until the last of May, when all was ready at Happy Hills, and Maggie Owens—you remember Maggie, don’t you?—already had her little flock of brothers and sisters in one of the Nests. She was the first Little Citizen to take up residence at the camp. Maggie had been admitted without a ticket as her case was well known to the Blue Birds and needed no investigation, but the tickets were ready for distribution the day before Decoration Day and Uncle Ben was truly surprised at the demand awaiting them.

Ikey Einstein had been suggested by the Big Brother’s Organization as an honest, shrewd little fellow who could be of great assistance in the matter of tickets, so the boy was interviewed and engaged at a salary to furnish information about any of the numerous applicants from the East Side, where Ikey lived.

And that is why Micky Finn sought out Ikey when he wanted to secure a camp-ticket for Nelly.

CHAPTER III
UNCLE BEN’S DRILL CORPS

Little Nelly Finn had been admitted to the camp at Happy Hills, and was the happiest little girl there. Never had she seen such grass and flowers, to say nothing of the big trees and noisy brook in the Valley of Delight. The day she had stood with a lady, and several other children waiting for the train that left at noon for Happy Hills, Micky promised her to save his pennies and come for a visit to the Camp that Summer. Not only Micky, but Ikey, Skelly, and another boy, who had a shoe-shine box, agreed to visit Happy Hills.

Nelly was established in the Nest next to Maggie, the Little Mother of six younger children—Maggie was eleven. Because of her motherly instincts, Maggie felt a grown-up interest in the newcomers, who were about Nelly’s age.

“I see you don’t know what to do wid dese girls, Miss Martin,” said Maggie, the afternoon of the new arrivals, as the Mother Wings of that particular Nest seemed bewildered and worried.

“This is all new to me, little girl, and I am only here until a school-teacher can take my place,” replied Miss Martin.

“My name’s Maggie,” suggested the Little Mother.

“How did you know my name?” queried the lady, curiously.

“I heer’n Miss Selina—she’s our Flutey Bird, you know what owns this place—tell Uncle Ben that six more little gals was comin’ wid a Miss Martin.”

“Maybe you can tell me where to find Uncle Ben now?” asked the city lady eagerly.

“Yes’m! He’s beginnin’ a drill fer the boys. They has to grow to be fine scouts, brave policemen, and extry-brave firemen. You see we’se goin’ to have a regerler city-run camp here, and Uncle Ben says boys must know how to proteck folks and guard us against fires and udder bad t’ings,” explained Maggie.

“That’s fine! Where is the drill to take place? Maybe we can all go and watch them,” said Miss Martin.

“We kin! I was just washin’ Freddy’s han’s to take him wid me—he’s too little to leave behind, yeh see.”

Miss Martin’s little flock of six understood that part of life, for had not each one of them been scrubbed and polished with brown soap and coarse rags just before leaving the city?

Freddy was soon cleansed from the results of making mud-pies near the brook, and Maggie triumphantly led the way to the large green clearing where the drill was to take place. On the way she pointed out other Nests and explained who occupied them, then she showed Miss Martin the hospital, or clinic, as Maggie called it.

“Dis Nest next to yourn is goin’ to have some blind kids in it, from the asylum up in the Bronx. Miss Flutey tol’ me not one of ’em ever saw anyt’ing on de outside world. She said all dey coul’ see was what was inside dere minds—do you b’lieve dat?” asked Maggie, doubtfully.

“Oh yes, Maggie. Blind folks have no idea of the exterior world and so picture it for themselves in their thoughts—that is anyone who has been born blind and never saw material things.”

“I see!” murmured Maggie, slowly comprehending.

Then passing the next Nest, she continued explaining:

“Them’s where the boys are campin’ just now. All the Nests fer the boys ain’t done yet, and most of dem have to live up in de row where all dat noise is comin’ from.”

“How old are the boys already here?” asked Miss Martin.

“Half of ’em are cripples er sickly lookin’ kids what was in a asylum er hospital, so dat’s why dey ain’t runnin’ aroun’ playin’ ball er diggin’ farms.”

“After the drill I’d like you to show us the farms,” suggested the lady.

“All right—I’ll show you anyt’ing you likes to see,” replied Maggie, graciously, but eyeing the six little strangers to see how they took her importance.

They now reached a rustic bridge spanning the shallow creek, and Nelly stopped to watch the fascinating ripples flow past under her feet.

“Oh looka! Looka—Miss Martin! Dere’s a fish!” screeched Nelly, excitedly pointing at some tiny minnows darting about.

The others crowded close to the railing to follow the direction of Nelly’s pointing finger, and great interest was manifested in the unusual sight.

“Pooh! One of the bigger boys caught a fish yistiddy! A real live fish, it was, an’ he said it was swimming in the big crick what comes from dis little one,” bragged Maggie, proudly.

“Caught a real fish!” gasped the group of astonished city waifs.

“Yep! And lemme tell you’se somet’ing else! Dere are reel berries a-growin’ on bushes over on dat hillside!” and Maggie pointed at a sunny slope a short distance from the camp grove.

“My!” chorused most of the little girls.

“An’ birds, an’ bumblebees, an’ snakes, an’—oh, heaps of awful stinger things what you’se have to run from er jump over!” warned Maggie with awesome tones and rolling eyes to impress her hearers.

“Snakes won’t sting, Maggie, unless you tease them. And even then there are many snakes quite harmless. As for a bumblebee! The big, clumsy fellow is as good-natured as a puppy,” said Miss Martin.

“Say, Miss Martin, you knows an awful lot of stuff, don’t you?” exclaimed Maggie, admiringly.

“I ought to, Maggie, as I am three times your age. Maybe you will know more than I do, when you grow up to be my age,” replied the lady, smiling at the earnest little face.

All during this walk, the other children had been silent, as they were not yet quite at ease. All was so new and interesting that they had no words with which to express their feelings, but Maggie had been a Little Citizen almost two weeks, now, and so felt qualified to act as official guide to newcomers.

“Mebbe Miss Marting will tell us somet’in’ about a bee er a snake?” ventured Katy Kronen, a little girl of eight.

“When we get back to the Nest I will tell you all about some snakes I have seen, and about the bees, too,” promised the Mother Wings, as they reached the open field where outdoor games and drills were to take place.

“Dere he is—ain’t he grand?” cried Maggie, excitedly.

“Who—where?” asked several voices.

“Our Uncle Ben—he’s really de Uncle to some kids what live in Oakdale. Dey made up dis camp, and Miss Selina what’s got a heap of money is lookin’ after us an’ payin’ de bills. Uncle Ben is her nephew, but everyone calls him Uncle Ben, ’stead of Mr. Ta’mage, an’ he says he likes to have so many nieces an’ nephews,” explained Maggie all in one breath.

Miss Martin now had her first glance at the man she had heard so much of—not only in the Welfare work but also from the papers at the time of the Christmas Tree and Easter Picnic in New York.

She saw a tall well-built man with the happiest, cheeriest face she had ever seen. No wonder everyone liked him so!

Maggie waved a hand energetically to attract his attention, and soon the man smiled and waved his hat at her.

“Dere now—he’ll come over pritty soon,” sighed Maggie, with sublime faith in her prophecy.

And sure enough! As soon as Uncle Ben had taken down the names of the boys who were to enter a squad of Camp Police, he came over to welcome the lady he had not yet met.

“Dis is my neighbor Mudder Wings, Uncle Ben,” said Maggie by way of introduction.

The two smiled and felt much more at ease because of such an informal introduction than if it had been given by a diplomat.

“I have heard of your educational work with the city children,” said Uncle Ben.

“You have? Why I had no idea it was important enough to be remembered by such a busy man as you are known to be,” commented Miss Martin.

“It is most important to all who are sincerely interested in the welfare of our future citizens, because the work you are doing educates and familiarizes the children with Nature, so that they will grow kind and affectionate towards things that used to inspire fear and cruelty. I trust we will be able to keep you here this summer to conduct a series of Nature talks for the Little Citizens?” said Uncle Ben.

“I should like nothing better, Mr. Talmage, if I do not have to make my usual summer tour of camps for the purpose of creating an interest in Nature Study. I sent a few substitutes to try the work this year and so I may not have to go personally,” rejoined Miss Martin.

“Let’s hope you may remain with us. We have a great work to accomplish here, Miss Martin.”

“Yes, I can see that. How I should love to be connected with such a plan, where money is no object, but the welfare of Little Citizens is the main idea. Now let me see what you plan to do this afternoon with the boys. I heard it was a drill.”

“Yes, I am just organizing a staff of helpers to look after the general good of those at camp. Won’t you come over and stand under the shade of the trees while I give the boys their first lesson?” said Uncle Ben.

So Miss Martin and her little companions followed Mr. Talmage across the grass to the shady spot he had designated.

“Now boys! Attention! I shall open this first drill by giving you some good rules to guide your life in camp, and later, the Blue Birds and Bobolinks are going to distribute cards which they are now printing with these same rules and regulations.

“First and foremost: You cannot repay the kind people and children who made this lovely country camp possible for you in a better way than to show kindness and thoughtfulness to everyone you meet. And when you go back to the city, to take with you the rule of doing unto others as you would be done by. If this Golden Rule is obeyed the world will be a happy place for everyone.

“Every day, and every hour, you will find ways to show your gratitude to Miss Selina for this camp. It may be that a child is frightened at something—you can comfort and encourage it. Maybe a boys’ quarrel or fight is on—you can separate them and make peace. It is more than likely that someone will use slang or swear words, or call names or use improper English! You can correct them in a thoughtful way that will not be resented, but appreciated.

“‘The Guide for Little Citizens’ that we publish in the little magazine each month, ought to be well known by most of you now—how many here have had a copy of the magazine?”

Two-thirds of the hands went up and Uncle Ben nodded.

“Well, for the benefit of the few who have not had a copy of our fine little monthly, I will explain:

“Our general motto is ‘Do something for Somebody.’

“Our seven Nest Resolutions are as follows:

“‘A Little Citizen makes himself useful to others and is loyal to all friends, relatives, or foes, in thought and deed.

“‘A Little Citizen loves his Country and resolves to be a good citizen. He loves everything in the land or sea—beast, bird, fish, or insect, and will not injure or tease them.

“‘A Little Citizen loves and protects the trees, the flowers, and other growing things in Nature’s creation.

“‘A Little Citizen will care for all beautiful things: books, pictures, clothing, and everything useful, ornamental, instructive or entertaining.

“‘A Little Citizen will refrain from discourtesy of any sort; from using vulgar language or being disobedient. In following these ideals each one will soon see the great improvement in all.

“‘A Little Citizen resolves to daily seek opportunity to accomplish some good thing—something that will add to his character-building and do good to others.

“‘A Little Citizen will help where help is needed, encourage the unhappy and hopeless, and be true to others as he would be true to his own best self.’

“If everyone will remember these rules and use them wherever possible, you will find what a happy camp this will be for each one.

“Now I want to speak of my firemen—a squad of the older boys who can be our official firemen for the summer camp. For this work I have chosen the ten boys who are standing at the left, over there. Come forward, firemen, and let me introduce you to the Little Citizens of Happy Hills.”

Ten strong boys ranging from nine to twelve years of age now came over to Uncle Ben’s side and stood eager to hear what he would have to say to them.

“First of all, I want to tell you—and then have you tell and teach the campers at Happy Hills—that most of the fires that destroy life and property are not due to accident as much as to carelessness and mischief. It is ignorance of what to do in case of a fire that permits a small blaze to grow into a consuming flame that wrecks blocks of buildings and wastes millions of dollars worth of property.

“If everyone knew just what to do and did it at once, you can understand that there would be little danger. Of recent years, the large schools in cities have introduced a course of lessons that take up ‘First Aids’ and ‘Presence of Mind’ tests for the children so that they may be ready to apply such knowledge when needed.

“You have most likely heard the proverb: ‘Fire makes a good servant, but a bad master.’ Now just as long as we keep fire in its rightful place to do all sorts of work for us, and to keep us warm in winter, or to create steam in the water placed on it for many important services, then fire is the servant. But once let it get the least bit of headway through neglect, or mischief, or by any other cause, and it immediately consumes whatever it touches and feeds upon all it burns so that it becomes a raging demon.

“A child can control a fire in the stove or in a lamp—all one has to do is to turn down the wick or pull out a damper. But once we let fire leap from its bounds, we need a force to fight it. And that is what I expect of you boys. To so train yourselves that in case of emergency, you will know instantly how to fight the demon, fire.

“To help you all I can, I have invited one of New York’s Fire Commissioners to visit us shortly and tell you many wise things I do not know in connection with this work. But long before he comes I want you to be practicing daily and have sham-fires. I have a hand-engine waiting in the great barn back of the tool-house, and enough hose to reach from the brook to any Nest or building in the woods.

“I have also ordered, but they have not yet arrived, a set of small ladders and hooks and other implements useful in case of fire. All apparatus for the Fire Department will be kept in this new shed back of us, and no Little Citizen is ever to be allowed inside this door, unless it be one of the boys detailed as a fireman.

“You ten boys will have a dark-brown camp-uniform to show you are Firemen; and in case of a fire you will don the heavy overalls and caps kept in the Fire-house.”

As Uncle Ben explained the plan and held up a sample fireman’s uniform, the boys shouted and whistled and clapped with delight, for this sort of thing was very unusual and gratifying.

“Now, Firemen, you may stand back while I call out our Police Force. The twelve boys on the right will step up.”

The chosen Firemen retired after being introduced, and the twelve policemen eagerly ran over to Uncle Ben’s side.

“These are to be our official policemen in camp. They are going to be taught all that a policeman needs to do and know, and they are responsible for the laws and good reputation of Happy Hills. If anyone needs help or advice about matters here or in any personal problem, the policeman must give what aid he can.

“The police must see that rules and regulations are carried out to the letter, and all games, drills, or other public gatherings must be ordered by them, and all nuisances removed.

“If a member of either Fire Department or Police Force is disloyal to his fellow-man or breaks his vow to live up to the laws governing his department, he will be discharged, and another boy elected to fill the vacant place. But I hope no such vacancies will occur.”

Uncle Ben then mentioned other important things and good points in managing the camp, and told the police he had blue uniforms for them to wear when on duty. He held up a suit made of blue denim, and a cap to match, but no clubs were to be given to this police force! Weapons were tabooed by Uncle Ben.

“Now, boys, I want each of you to ‘do his bit’ in this camp, and to drill well so that you can give a fine exhibition of your ability when called upon to use it. I expect the Blue Birds and Bobolinks at Happy Hills next week, and it will be a great surprise to them to see what we have accomplished in so short a time.”

The boys quickly agreed to study and practice well, so Uncle Ben smiled approvingly and called upon a group of girls to step forward. There were six girls from ten to twelve years of age in one group, and four, of thirteen years, in another group.

“Here you see six nurses who will have charge of the Little Citizens who should accidentally be scratched, cut or have any other physical trouble. These nurses will have the right to go to the infirmary and use whatever they may need for a patient. But they will have to ask the grown-up in charge of the infirmary for the needed remedy.

“These nurses will also see that Little Citizens are careful of their manner of living in camp, and will report anyone who breaks the rules or is careless of the welfare of others.

“The four big girls you see in the other group are Mother’s Helpers. Everyone knows what a Mother’s Helper is, and with these four Helpers to go about and offer help to any little Mother Wings, there ought to be a chance for everyone to have a good time.

“Take Maggie, for instance! Maggie has six little brothers and sisters to look after, and they are a handful. Now one of these official Mother’s Helpers can help Maggie in the morning so that she need not be late for breakfast on account of having so many little ones to wash and dress,” explained Uncle Ben, smiling at Maggie.

The latter heaved a deep sigh and said: “Oh t’ank you, Uncle Ben!”

“Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp, the Firemen will drill at this place, and at ten o’clock the Police Force will meet and drill,” said Uncle Ben, and the meeting was over for that day.

CHAPTER IV
THE BLUE BIRDS VISIT HAPPY HILLS

A week had passed by swiftly while the Firemen and Police Force practiced and drilled constantly to become proficient in their work. And the official nurses found many little ways in which to help with the smaller children and when anyone was in trouble. Miss Martin had thought out a plan, and was beginning a story-telling class to be held directly after luncheon in the big Refectory. She purposely called it story-telling so the Little Citizens wouldn’t think they were being bored with lessons or class.

“Now, boys, show me what you can do today—for tomorrow our visitors are coming, you know,” said Uncle Ben, as he called his Firemen and Police together at the Big Park, as it was styled.

But there were still other squads waiting to show off what they could do, and these groups had not yet been introduced to the general public.

“I’ll tell you, my friends, what I discovered after our last week’s meeting. I found that we needed a Camp Cleaning Department and a Health Department. The Camp Cleaners are elected every two weeks, and the ones doing their work best during the two weeks win medals. Those in the Health Department work a month, and are given a certificate if the time has been well applied to duty. The reason for limiting the Cleaning Department to two weeks is because there is much daily work to attend to, and this Force really works more in two weeks than any other department in a month.

“The Nurses are under the Health Department and both the Health and Nurse Departments are supervised by the Infirmary Head.

“Tomorrow morning the Street Cleaning Department begins work. Each of the twelve boys is equipped with a big round basket on a push-mobile, and a broom and shovel. The paths that lead through or across the camp-site will be cleaned of papers, or any other trash that is likely to fly about where there are so many children. It is the duty of every Mother Wings to have the trash-bag waiting in front of the Nest so the Cleaning Department can remove the bags and leave empty ones in their place—exactly as we do in New York.

“The Health Board must visit and inspect the Nests each day and report any lack of attention or seeming cause for concern to the Mother’s Helpers, Nurses, and Infirmary Head. Then the Helper investigates at once and the Nurse sees if there is anything she can do, and both report to the Infirmary. If it is serious the Head immediately attends to it.

“Our Health Board wears this uniform,” and Uncle Ben held up white percale overalls with blue stripes on the collar and cuffs of the under-blouse that went with it.

“And our Street Cleaning Department wears this uniform,” then a pair of white overalls without stripes, but a white helmet to match the overalls, were shown to the enthusiastic Little Citizens.

“Isn’t this the most fun you ever heard of?” cried one boy, who was a Health Officer.

“Oh! I wish we could live at Happy Hills all the time!” came from a Policeman, wistfully.

“Now Little Citizens, we will stand back and watch a trial drill of our brave Firemen,” called Uncle Ben.

The big boys belonging to the fire department now ran to the shed they had called the “Fire-house,” and were soon in their uniforms. Then they performed as only eager, enthusiastic boys can before a number of spectators. They were applauded loudly and Uncle Ben said they were ready for the Grand Exhibit on the morrow.

The Police Force drilled next, and they, too, were heartily applauded. The second exhibition ended, Uncle Ben ordered all to fall in line and march away to play.

“Wish we had a brass band, Mr. Ta’mage! Wouldn’t it be fun to have parades!” called the Fire Chief.

“Say, Bill, that’s a fine idea! Are there any Little Citizens here who can play on an instrument?” asked Uncle Ben.

“I kin play a fiddle!” squeaked a weak boy’s voice.

“I’ve got a mouth-organ,” called another.

“I beat the drum!”

“I ust to play a fife.”

“I can blow a horn—I got paid fer it on the East Side, when any patent medicine quack wanted to get a crowd around to buy his stuff,” admitted one of the big Firemen.

And a score or so of boys all cried that they wanted to play something in the band. Uncle Ben knew music was a great thing in a community even if it had a discordant sound at first; it would be helpful and elevating for them even to try and play.

“I’m going to act on Bill’s suggestion at once! I will wire Mr. Richards to pick out the instruments we may need to begin a Camp Band. He will know what to buy,” declared Uncle Ben.

“Say, Mister Ta’mage, tell him not to waste his good money buyin’ ’em new—he kin git all kinds and all sizes of music instruments at a pawn-shop along the Bowery. Me brudder got a fine bass horn at one, fer a quarter of what it was wuth!” bawled a big East Side German boy.

“Yah! Hear Dutchy talk! It takes your big brudder what was practicin’ music fer yer Kaiser, to grab a bargain!” jeered Young Italy.

“He didn’t not! My brudder is blowin’ his horn fer a enlist camp on Long Island—so now! An’ my fadder and mudder are natural Americaners, I want to tell you yet!” retorted Bill.

“Here, here, boys! No war arguments at Happy Hills! It is absolutely forbidden! Bill is as good a citizen as I am and should anyone question my veracity on the subject, he can leave camp now! We don’t want to give our Police Force any unnecessary trouble and I know what such a discussion will lead up to.”

“Mr. Ta’mage, I gotta cymbals to my house in New York. My uncle left them wid us when he was drafted,” said another boy from the ranks.

“You write at once, Jimmy, and ask your mother to send them on to us,—collect. You can play the cymbals in the band,” declared Uncle Ben.

But that brought down a flood of trouble upon his unsuspecting head, as every boy at camp instantly yelled and begged for some position in the new Brass Band, although many of them had not the slightest idea of the difference between a half-note and a fish-worm.

“It all boils down to this: We’ve got to buy instruments and all take part in the band. The girls will have to take up the choral work and give musicals in singing while we accompany them in playing,” determined Uncle Ben.

The Blue Birds and Bobolinks arrived about noon, the day following the drill and the decision to start a brass band. As the noisy party stopped before Aunt Selina’s door, each one tried to crane his neck for a glimpse of the wonderful camp they had been the means of founding. But the trees screened everything from curious eyes; still the shouting and laughter could be heard, although even that was mellowed by the distance from the house.

“Oh, Uncle Ben, we are wild to see the Little Citizens. Aunt Selina and you have not written half enough to satisfy us!” cried Ruth Talmage, as she jumped at her uncle, the moment the automobile stopped.

“Uncle Ben, Mr. Richards telephoned us this morning early, that he couldn’t come with us. You must have told him to get some stuff in New York. He said he would attend to it today and leave the city on a midnight train, so’s to be here tomorrow,” said Ned Talmage, delivering the message as he was asked.

“That’s fine, Ned! If Mr. Richards can get what I want there will be a heap of fun at Happy Hills this summer,” replied Uncle Ben.

“As if there was no fun here!” laughed Miss Selina.

“Come on,—come on, and don’t stand there talking! I want to see the camp,” called Don Starr, catching hold of Jinks’ hand to pull him away.

“Wait a moment! Don’t you want something to eat?” questioned Mr. Talmage.

“But why can’t we eat in the Refectory with the Citizens?” wondered Meredith Starr aloud.

“Sure thing, Uncle Ben! We don’t want a ready-made house with fine furniture and things, when we have a dandy camp right at hand where a fellow can rough it for a few days!” added Don, and he felt very impressive with the manner in which he said “rough it.”

The Little Citizens were expecting their young benefactors, and the whole camp was as spick and span as a Street Cleaning Department could make it; and every child was polished till it shone, thanks to the Mother’s Helpers; and the Police Force was uniformed and waiting at cross paths of the camp ready to salute the group of Blue Birds and Bobolinks the moment they passed the City Line. Only the Fire Department was invisible, but they were waiting impatiently at the Fire House for the signal that would bring them out in a glorious show.

For be it known, my friends, that the Police Force, the Street Cleaning Department, and the Fire Company, had planned a secret all unknown to Uncle Ben, or any Little Citizen—at least a non-official citizen—that meant the girls, as every boy in camp belonged to some Civic Department or other and wore its uniform.

The secret was so well guarded that not even I had a peep of it, but it was dreadfully exciting as one could tell by the flushed faces and meaning signals that passed between the important branches of the Camp Government.

“Dere dey come—jus’ leavin’ de house!” called Jimmy, who was perched up on an electric light pole to spy.

“Which way are dey takin’—Primrose Walk or Daffodil Lane?” asked an eager voice from the crowd.

“Comin’ straight down Daffodil Lane—gee! dem boys what calls demselves Bobolinks are swells all right!” said Jimmy, as he slid quickly down the pole and joined his comrades.

“How many of ’em?” asked a boy.

“’Bout six er eight—big and little.”

“How little?” came from several small boys.

“Two look to be about eight, some look ten and de udders about Dutchy’s age,” explained Jimmy, which goes to tell the reader that Bill, the boy of German parentage had to suffer the nickname of “Dutchy” in spite of Uncle Ben’s protests. A boy will be a boy the world over!

“Now—all ready for the cry!” warned the Fire Chief.

“One, two, three—yell!”

Just as Uncle Ben and his little friends came up to the camp-boundary line, the Little Citizens gave a war-cry of:

“Lit! Lit! Lit-tle Cits!

Cit! Cit! Cit-i-zens!

Unc! Unc! Uncle Ben!

Hurrah for the Prince of Men!

Bob! Bob! Bob-o-links!

Blue! Blue! Blue Birds too!

Aunt! Aunt! Aunt S’li-na!

’Rah! ’Rah! Flutey Mah!”

The concerted chorus, and the syncopated action of the scores of hearty voices was deafening to the newcomers, especially as it was unexpected; but it was most satisfying as the laughter and hurrahs attested the moment the welcome was ended.

Aunt Selina laughed and laughed at the way the Little Citizens ’rahed for Flutey Mah!

The Blue Birds and Bobolinks were then escorted about the wonderful camp and shown everything important or otherwise. Even the mud-pies made by Maggie’s baby brother that morning had to be shown and laughed over!

“Now, my Publishing Friends, we will adjourn to the Fire-house and watch the Fire Company drill,” announced Uncle Ben.

“What Fire Company?” asked Don, amazed—as were the other visitors, too.

“You’ll soon see! Have you failed to see the Police Squad keeping order about the town?” laughed Uncle Ben.

So eager and curious about other things had the Blue Birds and Bobolinks been, that they had not seen the stiff boys at guard in blue uniforms.

“Well, I never!” exclaimed Ruth.

“Whose idea is that?” questioned Meredith.

Without reply, Uncle Ben gave a signal to his police and the men saluted, turned upon their heel, and marched away in single file towards the Fire-house.

“Oh! I want to be a fireman, too! Isn’t it fun!” cried Don, running after the departing Force much as a small boy would at a circus parade.

“Now, come and see my Firemen drill,” added Uncle Ben, laughing at the amazement on the faces about him.

“How lovely!” cried Vene Starr, as she realized what had been planned by Uncle Ben for their entertainment.

Immediately after the Blue Birds and Bobolinks were stationed on a small platform near the Fire-house, a Policeman rang the fire-gong in the center of the camp-town. It was a great iron hoop hung upon a cross-beam and was sounded by striking it with a bar of metal.

Not until this moment had Uncle Ben noticed anything unusual about the Park, but now he saw a column of smoke issuing from a structure at one end of the field that had not been there the day before. It was loosely built of old boards and discarded lumber thrown aside by the carpenters when building the Nests. He understood what it meant, too.

The moment the fire-gong sounded, the Little Citizens standing about to watch the fun, began yelling at the top of their lungs: “Fire! Fire! Save us from the fire!”

Then they all started to run for the temporary house at the end of the field. At the same time, the Fire Department flung open the doors of its house and rushed out pulling the hand-engine at their heels. The boys with the hose reel followed, and last came the Hook and Ladder Team.

All made for the now flaming structure and naturally, the visitors ran too, to watch at close hand the daring and bravery of the Fire Department. Uncle Ben hoped the sparks from the fire would not start anything else as it was too near the Nests for safety.

The Fire-engine reached the scene, and while they were getting ready to pump water from the creek into and through the hose-pipes, the other firemen were screwing nozzles to the hose, and connecting up the lengths so that it would reach the burning dwelling.

Other firemen were placing ladders against the side of the frail structure to pretend they were climbing up to save lives, but Uncle Ben protested quickly.

“Don’t dare too much, boys! The shack will collapse with a suddenness that will give you no time to get away! Don’t scale the ladders!”

While he spoke, other boys were using axes and rams on the wooden frame to show how a closed and locked house can be made to give way before a fireman. But the advice reached the excited boys too late! The blows from ram and axe had shaken the loose frame, and the flames on the inside had eaten a way through the corner-posts that held up the shack.

Just as the weight of Bill was brought full against the side of the building, the whole thing fell in like a house of cards. The ladder and fireman fell with it. Instantly a dense smoke arose from the fresh fuel, and sparks flew out in every direction.

“Life Savers! Life Savers!” yelled the few boys who had seen the accident, and they rushed in to grab Dutchy from the leaping tongues of flame that now licked up the wood.

The firemen at the creek heard shouting and calling but they thought it was all part of the game so they began pumping water into the hose, and momentarily expected to see a fine stream played upon the fire.

But the nozzle had been dropped when Bill fell headlong into the fire and the two firemen ran to help drag him out; now the nozzle lay pointing directly at the Blue Birds and Bobolinks who were intensely concerned over pulling Bill safely out of the fire.

Suddenly a great stream of water shot out of the nozzle and quickly drenched the girls standing in its pathway. Don, taking in the situation at a glance, ran over to hold the hose properly and turn it upon the blaze.

He secured the nozzle all right, but in turning toward the fire he had to sweep it about in a circle, and in so doing, the rush of water from the hose managed to drench everyone in the radius of its swirl.

Amidst the screaming from the girls and the shouting advices from the boys, the firemen yelled and worked, while Don did his best to flood everyone near the almost burnt-down building with the stream pouring incessantly from the nozzle that was being so carelessly directed by him.

“For goodness sake who’s driving that flood after me wherever I run to get away from it?” now bawled Uncle Ben, as nearly angry as he had ever been.

“Here, you! Gimme dat hose—cain’t ye see ye ain’t sendin’ a drop on de fire but soakin’ yer fren’s!” shouted Jimmy, as he caught the nozzle from Don, and poured one last flood down Dutchy’s back.

When poor Dutchy Bill could gasp again, he managed to say: “Did any of you’se blockheads t’ink a feller coul’ burn wid all de creek emptyin’ itself on his back!”

But that was only his way of showing how thankful he was for the timely aid given him by his companions. For he would have been seriously injured had not the other boys been quick to drag him forth from the flames.

“That was some fire, boys!” declared the Chief, delightedly, as he ordered the Company back to their quarters.

“I thought it was a flood—not a fire!” commented Ned, as he tried to wring out his light summer coat.

“We all look as if we had just come out of the ocean,” added Dot, grinning at the clinging organdie dresses of her companions.

“Still, it was a good blaze and heaps of excitement, and that’s all a fellow wants at a real fire, you know,” explained Jinks, as he remembered the fire where Mete and he had saved some lives.

“If that were all that was needed at a fire then every city fire would be a success as there is always excitement to be had and a big blaze if you give it time,” said Uncle Ben, who had recovered his good-humor.

The fire apparatus was replaced in the house and the brave firemen came out to be congratulated on their prowess. Don being the only dry Bobolink of his party, stood watching the boys, and finally said:

“Uncle Ben, you ought to have given a medal for bravery! Bill scaled the ladder in spite of danger to life and limb.”

“We’re going to give you the medal this time!” replied Uncle Ben, seriously.

“Me! What for—what did I do?”

“You wasted more water than Happy Hills uses in a month, and you spoiled a dozen or so good dresses and suits, so we will present you with a leather medal!”

At that the older children laughed merrily, and Don knew a leather medal was nothing to be proud of; still he kept his tongue under control until he had had time to ask someone what a leather medal meant anyway!

CHAPTER V
MISS MARTIN’S TALK

The Blue Birds and Bobolinks had to hurry to the kitchen where a good-natured cook and kitchen girl offered to dry their wet clothes. Meantime, the hapless boys and girls would have to wear overalls just as the Little Citizens did for work.

The majority of the Little Citizens had followed their visitors to the big kitchen and when the transformed Blue Birds came out in blue denim jumpers, everyone laughed.

“What can we do while we’re waiting for our clothes to dry?” asked Dot Starr, who never could keep quiet a moment.

“Let Miss Martin tell one of her stories!” suggested Nelly.

“She’s an awful good story-teller! You just oughter hear one,” added Maggie, with the air of one who knows.

“If you will all sit down on the Refectory floor while we are waiting for dry clothes, I will tell you a short story,” agreed Miss Martin. And everyone sat down just where he or she happened to be.

“What shall it be?” asked the lady.

Just then a hop-toad jumped upon the platform of the Refectory floor and almost landed in Betty Blue Bird’s lap.

“Oh, oh! A horrid toad!” cried she, jumping up to shake herself free from the disagreeable contact.

“I’ll tell you a story about a nice little toad!” laughed Miss Martin, instantly.

“Oh yes, and cure Betty of her dread of wood-creatures,” added Dot, eagerly.

“That little toad only hopped up to say, ‘Glad to see you in the country, children!’ because he is so happy here himself, he wants everyone to feel as happy as he does.

“You see Speckles—that is the toad’s name, I’m sure—had had a dreadful long season of it last winter as he lay dozing under the old tree-roots over there. You will find a deep hole running under the roots, and in the fall the wind blows leaves and other dry material into the opening to keep out the cold.

“Speckles has a wide mouth and great shining eyes, but his eyes could see nothing to eat in the tunnel where he waited for spring, and his mouth had chewed nothing since the cold blast of winter had driven him to cover late in the fall.

“Speckles was too tired and cold and hungry to force a way out to the open until he was quite sure there would be a fair-sized meal for his empty stomach, so he waited and dozed some more. As he dozed he wondered—and that made a dream you know—where Spot, his mate, could be. Was she still sleeping or was she out and working for something to eat?

“That made Speckles sit up! He rubbed his button eyes with a fore-foot and yawned—oh what a yawn from that great mouth! He determined to go out for some air. Perhaps, who knows—there might be a tidbit about somewhere to ease the gnawing in his insides!

“The dry leaves were soon pushed out and forth came Speckles, but a very different-looking toad from the fat one that went into winter quarters the previous fall.

“‘Good-day, Mr. Cricket!’ said Speckles, politely, to a very tender-looking cricket that sat just above his reach on a twig.

“Being once removed on the plane above a common toad, Mr. Cricket never deigned to notice the polite greeting. Had the toad been above, the entire scene would have changed instantly! Perhaps proud Mr. Cricket would have been the suppliant for life and liberty.

“Speckles hopped over to the tunnel to which he had escorted his mate the season before, and now he churked a sickly roundelay to wake her from her dreams. Spot was having a glorious dream of bugs and maggots and all kinds of toothsome dainties, and the faint call from her mate failed to rouse her the first time. Again he chirruped, a bit louder and stronger this time, and Spot awoke with a shock to find her feast vanish! It was but a dream!

“Spot then waddled out—she need not have waddled, as she was thin and scrawny, but she was still dreaming that she had stuffed herself at the feast, so she waddled. Then, too, her joints were stiff from the cramped position she had been in for many months.

“‘Ha, Spot, my dear!’ saluted Speckles, as he saw his mate stumbling from the winter resort.

“‘Well, Speck, have you found any dinner?’ was the first house-wifely question from Spot.

“‘I met Mr. Cricket, but he seemed very lean and unsatisfying, so I passed him up,’ replied Speckles.

“‘Oh, did you? Or did he hop up himself?’ tittered Spot.

“‘Isn’t it all the same, my dear? I did not eat him!’

“Spot gave a sleepy look at her spouse but said nothing.

“‘I have been thinking, my dear wife, that perhaps some of our friends may hold a musicale at the frog-pond tonight—shall we hop down and see? We may find some juicy bugs on the way, too.’

“‘Yes, let us be off! I must find a home for the children as soon as possible, too, and perhaps the tepid water of the mud-hole will be just right for the eggs.’

“So the pair hopped away from the trees and were soon at a small spot beside the creek, where the water had made a tiny bay in the bank. On the way they found a spider and a few thin ants, but what was such a tiny mouthful to such hungry toads?

“On the muddy brink of the small inlet, Spot sat and wondered! Here she had laid a number of tiny eggs the spring before, and these had hatched out into fine, fat little tadpoles. How well she remembered the day the tads turned into tiny toads with wide gaps for mouths and bright button eyes like her own, and had hopped out of the water to prance about and play with each other!

“Where now were all those dear children? Would any of them remember the old home-spot and return to bring their grand-children, and gladden the old frogs?

“‘Oh, well,’ sighed Spot, ‘It is the way of all human nature! Once the child is grown it throws off all restraint and protecting care of parents and plunges headlong into life!’

“But Speckles interrupted her thought by calling her attention to an old decayed log under which he had just burrowed.

“‘Spot—come quick! A fine mess of bugs here!’

“And Spot jumped over to gorge herself on the feast—almost as delicious a feast as in the dream, but far more satisfying than the dream-feast had been.

“Spot then made her way carefully down the muddy bank and waddled out to water that reached to her nose. The rest of her body was submerged. There she sat all night, listening to the singing of the male toads who serenaded their mates on the banks, while their wives were attending to family duties.

“Speckles sang and sang, too, as he sat on the grassy bank just above Spot where she was laying the yearly batch of eggs.

“At the first streak of dawn, Speckles whispered: ‘Spot, the day is breaking—we must away to our home.’

“Spot scrambled out at that, and followed her mate to the woods, saying as she went: ‘I wish we could have a grand family reunion this year, Speckles. When the new eggs hatch out into polliwogs, I would like to have our children of last year come home and meet the babies.’

“‘That is a silly mother’s sentiment! I suppose our large family of last year is well-scattered in every direction this year.’

“Spot said nothing but sighed for she knew how useless it was to wish an impossible wish!

“Some time after this event, the eggs laid by Spot that lovely moonlight night, hatched into queer little black things with but two legs and a slippery tail. Some of the saucy polliwogs whisking about in the outside creek jeered:

“‘Pooh! You Tads! Where are your front legs?’

“‘They’ll grow soon, and when they do we’ll come out there and duck you impudent Polliwogs!’ threatened one Tad, named Tibby.

“At the bare mention of ‘duck’ every Tad jumped and even Tibby Tad shivered with apprehension, for it was well known that a duck was a deadly foe to a Polliwog or a Tadpole.

“‘Quick—run to cover! Here comes a duck!’ shouted a Polliwog from the larger creek.

“Instantly every Tad burrowed down through the muddy inlet and remained hidden until they heard the Pollys’ laugh and jeer, then the Tads knew they had been made sport of.

“‘I’m going to swim out there and slap that Polliwog’s face!’ exclaimed Tibby Tad, as he started up from the soft mud.

“Just then a dreadful thing happened on the surface of the water above him. A big black thing fell ker-splash into the pool, and the ripples circled about as it tried to scramble forth again.

“The big black bug saw the Tads, however, and made a quick dive for them. Alas! Some were caught and gobbled up, but Tibby escaped without a scratch!

“‘That wasn’t a duck, but it was just as bad as one,’ said Tibby to himself, as he decided not to swim out to the big creek that day but stick close to the home-bank of mud.

“Some time after this, the other legs began to grow and the Tads who had survived the raids of ducks, beetles, bugs and other enemies, found they could hop feebly to the bank.

“‘Why this is our birthday—we are six weeks old today,’ exclaimed Tibby, as he managed to scramble out of the puddle and sit up in the grass, panting after the unusual exertion.

“He watched his brothers and sisters crawl up beside him, and after a time, they began to jump and have the most fun! Leap-frog was too strenuous for that day, as the little legs would wobble when they tried to hop.

“‘Come with me, Tina,’ coaxed Tibby to his sister, as he found she was the sturdiest of the lot who had hopped from the pool.

“As Tibby and Tina hopped away, a few of their brethren followed. Now and then the Tads—or Toads they now were—stopped to feast upon an unknown tidbit, but they ate it whether it was familiar and certified by the Pure Food Commission or not! They ate and ate, every sort of bug or worm they found, and not a single thought was wasted on Mr. Hoover or his wartime rations! Tibby and Tina were not very patriotic in their self-denial that first day out of the puddle!

“Tibby led the way, for he was the bravest of the party. Soon he came to a tall grassy place where he heard a queer sound.

“‘Tina, do you hear?’ asked Tibby.

“‘Yes, brother, what is it?’

“‘No time to ask—run, Tina!’ cried Tibby, and the two made a mighty leap just in time to escape a quail that pounced down upon the tiny toads and gobbled one quickly out of sight.

“‘It was Clumsy that disappeared!’ sighed Tina, all sympathy for the awkward little toad that could not escape death.

“‘Watch out for other assassins! We know not where the next may lurk,’ whispered Tibby, for he was poetical as well as practical, you see.

“Tina admired her big brother and watched carefully as he had advised, so she was the first to spy a swift animal with a bushy tail. What was it? How it did jump—almost as fast and high and far as a toad!

“‘Run, Tina, Run! It’s a squirrel!’ shouted Tibby, as the tiny toads stood petrified with fear.

“The squirrel soon had the smallest and weakest of the family and that left four to wander along heart-broken over their loss.

“‘I fear we shall end like the “ten little niggers that sat on a gate,”’ wailed Tibby, the poem of those unlucky little black children appealing to him at the moment.

“‘Tibby, will you or I be the last one to swing on the gate and then fall off, so there was none?’ mournfully asked Tina.

“Suddenly, before Tibby could reply, there was a happy cry and two fat toads appeared who greeted the four baby toads.

“‘Oh my darlings—it is Mamma Spot! Don’t you know me?’

“Then Speckles puffed up proudly as he saw young Tibby and the baby brother, and said, ‘Tib, my son, I am glad to see you have brought the children safely home.’

“What became of the other tads in the puddle I never could find out, but the four we followed to the woods lived happily with Speckles and Spot and as they grew up and married they raised their Tads in that same puddle.

“The pretty toad that jumped into Betty’s lap a while ago was either Father Speckles or Tibby, who sniffed something to eat and wondered if we humans ate the same delicious bugs that he preferred above everything else.”

Everyone clapped at the ending of the story and Betty laughed gayly, as she admitted that she would like to find Tibby, just to tell him how glad she was he had escaped from his enemies.

CHAPTER VI
LITTLE MOTHER MAGGIE

The clothes were dry, and the Blue Birds and Bobolinks were again dressed, but Uncle Ben advised them to keep the overalls to protect their good clothes while they were playing in camp.

Tea—it was called supper at Happy Hills—was served at 6 p. m. sharp each day, and now the Refectory was soon arranged for the children. As the Oakdale visitors intended having the evening meal at the camp Refectory, a table was set out for them.

Maggie found the neighboring table the one occupied by the adored Blue Birds, and very little did she eat that noon! Even the table manners of her six little sisters and brothers failed to distract her attention from watching the girls at Uncle Ben’s table.

Supper over, Uncle Ben said: “Now what shall we do?”

“Let’s go over and look at the Little Farms,” said Ned.

“Oh yes, Uncle, you see we want to know what to say in the next issue of the magazine when we offer prizes to the farmers of Happy Hills,” said Ruth.

The Little Citizens had gathered around and now looked eager to hear more of the prize idea. Uncle Ben surmised as much and laughed.

“I doubt if the Little Citizens have heard of your plan to distribute prizes. I will tell them now.

“Citizen Farmers, I beg to announce that the Blue Birds and Bobolinks are about to give a prize for the best kept farm in camp, another for the largest vegetable of ten varieties raised; the ten to be radishes, beets, cabbage, carrots, turnips, squash, beans, potatoes, onions, and corn.

“Another prize will be given for the greatest amount of good produce raised on one farm this summer. Yet another will be awarded to the farmer who makes the most of rotating crops. I have explained to you what that is.

“As most of you have just started the farms you can all begin fairly to try for the prizes. The age and size of the farmer will have much to do with the judgment of the Blue Birds. So I suggest that the farmers be divided in classes, one for boys of eight and over, one for girls of eight and over; another class for children—boys and girls—under eight years of age. The prize will be duplicated for these classes. Any remarks?”

There were none, so Uncle Ben led his young visitors to inspect the farms.

“Mr. Ta’mage, we’se gotta street cleanin’ squad, an’ a police force, an’ a health board wid nusses, an’ to say nuttin’ of dem firemen, but we hain’t got no head farmers in camp to show helpers all de time, what we wants to know,” ventured a voice from the crowd that followed at Uncle Ben’s heels.

“That’s so! Farmer Jones is master here, but he can’t be at everyone’s beck and call. We’ll have to plan a farmer club tomorrow, and I will send down books and pamphlets for all to read or study.”

“Why can’t some gals be in the farmer clubs as well as the boys that have everyt’ing goin’,” remarked Mother Maggie.

“You’re right, Maggie! We men have to share alike with you women now that you have the vote in New York State!” said Uncle Ben, smiling at his Citizens.

At the Little Farms the visitors were delighted to see what had already been done. Mr. Jones was there to explain things.

“You see, we worked very hard at digging the plots when the first Little Citizens arrived at camp, and now, as new arrivals come each day, they too are set to work at their farms; so we will have some farms harvesting while others are just sprouting their first crop.

“I showed the children how to dig and work over the soil until it was right for planting. Then I taught them how to choose the right seed for this time of the year, and each child was shown how to plant the seed chosen by him.

“Now you see, some plants are already growing fine, and some are just sprouting from the ground. Some farms have been seeded and are not yet sprouting, and some have just been made ready to plant.

“We farmers think it great fun to hunt the bugs and worms that would injure our plants. We are very careful to keep the ground well watered so the roots can keep healthy and feed the green shoots above the earth. We have some fine radishes that will soon be large enough to pull for dinner.

“Bill’s radishes are the best and finest, and he will soon be able to pull some and sell them to the cook at the Refectory at market price.”

This attracted attention to Bill’s garden and the children took great pride in the order and neatness of the farm-plot.

“Looks as if Bill might win a prize for neatness,” said Uncle Ben.

“You’se diden’ say what de prize was! Ef it’s going to be a choice of t’ings, lemme take cash, ’cuz I’m goin’ to save all dis summer an’ lay by to git a farm fer us all ferever!” vowed Maggie, enthusiastically, as she waved her arm at her six brethren.

“We will consider that matter for you, Maggie, and decide what the prize shall be,” agreed Uncle Ben.

As the children went from one well-kept farm to the next, something interesting was learned from each plot.

For instance the Blue Birds heard from Farmer Jones that a radish was really a root. Because of its red color it could be mistaken for fruit or a bulbous vegetable, but it grows and produces stems with leaves, so it must be classed with root vegetables.

“Besides all this, a thin root tapers from the round bulb. It is this long tapering root that finds the food and drink in the deep, dark ground for the plant above ground to grow upon,” explained the Farmer.

“Now the interesting thing about a radish is this: the plant stores up food in its root for its own use. It takes the first half of its life to make a great big root, and when the root is fully grown and the upper green leaves are through, it dies. Then there shoots up a long slender stem, and on top of this the flowers of the radish bloom. As these in turn fade and die, the seeds form and the entire plant dies—its work accomplished.

“If we dig up a dried radish plant we will find the round radish entirely changed in appearance. Instead of a juicy red bulb we find a shrivelled colorless root, because the stem and flowers that finally turned to seed ate up all the nourishment the green leaves had given to the radish-root. And the stored up food gone, there was nothing to draw upon, so the root died, too.”

“How interesting! Do tell us some more, Mr. Jones,” exclaimed Vene Starr.

“Well, then, here’s a potato. Is that a fruit, a root, a plant, or a bulb?” asked Farmer Jones, smiling at his catch-words.

“It’s a root,” shouted Don.

“No, it’s a plant—a potato-plant,” said Ruth.

“I think it’s a bulb—like tulips or other bulbs,” added Vene.

“It’s neither, children—a potato is a stem!” said the tickled farmer.

“A stem—what to?” asked many curious voices.

“Let me tell you: A potato is an underground stem with all the properties of a stem but it shoots downward instead of up above the soil.

“You see a potato has many eyes, and these eyes grow when properly cut and planted. The white shoot pushes itself up out of the ground and bears leaves, which is the vine, or plant.

“The old potato which was planted to furnish food for the plant is gradually used up as the green leaves open out and grow to be a large healthy vine. Then, the old food-store being used, and the potato-plant flourishing, new roots or stems grow downward from the plant; these swell out, and out, and out, until all the little tendrils that would be long thin roots in another kind of vegetable, are swollen bulb-like tubers of the potato-plant.

“When the plant is exhausted and can furnish no more life and strength to its underground tubers, it dies, and the potatoes stop growing.

“If a plant above ground kept on indefinitely furnishing life and food to the potatoes underground, they would keep on increasing until one hill would supply more than one ever saw. But the plant produces just so many tubers and then stops.”

“Oh, that is funny! I never dreamed a potato worked so hard for us,” giggled Dot Starr, as the farmer concluded his talk.

“Is a carrot or turnip a stem or bulb, too?” asked Don.

“No, a carrot, like the radish, is a root and is grown from seed. As the seed bursts open, the sprout sends up two tiny leaves, while the root goes down into the earth to seek food for its plant. The root grows fatter and fatter as it keeps on feeding the green leaves that in turn give the root sunshine and air. In the fall when the plant dies, the carrot is ready to be dug out and used.

“If it remains in the ground through the winter, it freezes but does not die. In spring, it sends up a new shoot and this flowers to make seeds. The old carrot in the ground dies as its seeds are perfected, for it has produced the wherewithal for many more plants.”

“I s’pose the turnip and beet and other swollen roots are all the same then,” suggested Ned, who had been listening with great interest to Farmer Jones’ talk.

“Just about, and you can quickly determine for yourself which class a vegetable belongs to by examining the root or full-grown product. A cabbage, kohlrabi, and similar vegetables are not roots.”

As the children passed other Little Farms, they found that some owners had planted dwarf and bush peas; dwarf and climbing beans; and other vegetables not commonly used by other Little Citizens.

Maggie appeared very eager as they neared her small farm, and finally, Vene called out to the others:

“Oh, see that pretty plot. Full of flowers! Whose is it?”

“That’s Little Mother Maggie’s,” replied the farmer, smiling at the wizened little girl.

“How neat and well-kept,” commended Uncle Ben.

“Yes, Maggie spends all her spare time here and takes great pride in the plants. I told her the variety to plant to show quick results; but now she has a box full of young plants at the Nest, where she is starting later flowers for her garden when these are gone,” explained Farmer Jones.

As Maggie could do with her garden what she pleased, she now went carefully between the rows of flowers and gathered all that were full-blown. These she presented to Uncle Ben and to the Blue Birds.

“Oh, Maggie, why did you pluck all the lovely blossoms?” cried Ruth.

“Farmer Jones says dey make twice as many flowers if I keep a-pickin’ dose wide open an’ ready to fade,” replied Maggie, astutely.

“For instance, take a pansy plant,” added the farmer. “A plant may only produce a few blossoms and these will be very large and beautiful. But cut them off as soon as they are fully opened and the plant will send up more buds—not quite as large. If these are picked too, more buds will appear, but will be still smaller, and so on. If you want to produce an extraordinarily large and beautiful flower on a plant, you pinch off every bud that appears excepting the one you wish over-fed with the plant’s food. All the strength and vitality that would be divided between many blossoms now goes to the one and produces an extra large and fine single flower.”

“When I go home I’m going to plant flowers and try that idea,” said Vene Starr.

The Little Citizens were almost finished with the inspection of the farms when a signal sounded from the fire-gong. The visitors looked at each other for an explanation.

“It is the call for evening song,” said Uncle Ben.

“Who started that idea?” asked Ned.

“Flutey. She said no child should go to bed without having its soul lifted to a sense of harmony that would really affect its sleeping hours. And we find the singing is really a good thing for us all,” explained Uncle Ben.

The Little Citizens seemed to look forward to this song-exercise and soon all were seated in the open Refectory, where a small upright piano stood. One of the young women who helped with the Nests, sat down before the instrument and played a gay little air; then the signal sounded for silence.

Miss Selina made it her business to be present at these song-times, and generally stood up after the prelude and offered a very short, simple prayer. Then the Little Citizens sang.

In the short time they had been at Happy Hills, most of them had memorized several sweet songs, and could sing really well. Uncle Ben and his group sat in the back row the better to get the effect of the chorus singing, and when the lovely song called “The Prince of Peace” was finished he felt that he must wipe his eyes for they were moist.

The Blue Birds and Bobolinks encored this song with such enthusiasm that Flutey smiled and said: “Little Citizens, our visitors appear to favor that selection. Suppose we now treat them to the new one we have been learning. How many think they can sing it in public?”

Someone had drawn out a large paper chart from back of the piano and now it stood in the center of the room. Upon it the visitors saw the words of the song plainly written for all to read or learn by heart.

The pianist played the air over once and some of the children hummed it eagerly. Then they all stood up and sang.

It was “The Song of Love” and as the childish voices filled the place and echoed from the woods and vale, Uncle Ben felt that this was one way to introduce universal peace and brotherhood. However could such a motley gathering of city waifs, whose parents most likely came from every known country in Europe, return home feeling the same in mind and soul as before spending this summer at Happy Hills! He knew it was impossible, and that every child singing there that night must be benefited permanently by the words and music of such songs as Miss Selina had purposely selected.

Uncle Ben made another great discovery during that singing, but he made no mention of it at the time. He was determined to investigate the matter well before taking others into his secret.

Little Mother Maggie, because she had to keep her little family quiet and in order during the singing, generally sat at the back of the class. Uncle Ben sat directly beside her and so made his discovery.

When the Even Song was ended, the children trooped to their different Nests to retire for the night. Uncle Ben asked the Blue Birds and Bobolinks to escort Aunt Selina home while he helped Maggie with the little ones. This they eagerly agreed to do. So Maggie was delighted to have Uncle Ben walk to the Nest with her.

“Maggie, you seem to have your hands full with so many children,” ventured Uncle Ben, after they had left the hall.

“Yes, sir, but dey’ll grow big some day an’ den I kin help myself.”

“What do you mean—help yourself?”

“I means, dat den I kin do somethin’ what I wants to fer myself,” replied Maggie.

“Can’t you do it now?”

“Dere ain’t no time, when six kids is to be looked after—on’y maybe a bit at night when dey is all in bed.”

“What is the something you want to do for yourself, Maggie? Maybe I can help you a bit now,” offered Uncle Ben, hoping to win the little girl’s confidence.

It was not difficult, as Maggie was frank and confiding by nature, so she stopped short in the pathway and exclaimed rapturously:

“Oh Mister Uncle Ben! I loves de flowers growin’, I loves pickshers! I loves pritty people like Miss Martin an’ de Blue Birds an’ you! An’ oh! how I loves singin’!”

Uncle Ben had the information he wanted! But still he drew her out.

“Why, Maggie, no one would call Miss Martin or me pretty! And some of the Blue Birds and Bobolinks are not nearly as good-looking as you are,—if you were plump you would be as pretty as anyone.”

“Mister Uncle Ben, you don’t unnerstan’!” replied Maggie, with a worried expression. “I diden’ mean looks, don’che know—I mean somethin’ else, but I can’t call it like I wantta!”

“I understand, Maggie; and I know that you wish to call it ‘individuality,’ or the mental beauty of the soul. It is this grace of each one’s thought-power that makes true beauty and attractiveness.”

“Dat’s it—yes, dat’s it, Mister Uncle Ben! But I diden’ know how to say it!” cried Maggie, her eyes shining.

They had reached the Nest by this time, and Uncle Ben was so interested, that he said he would step in and help put the six romping sisters and brothers to bed. Maggie was over-awed!

Uncle Ben took quick notice of the cleanliness of the Nest, and the crude attempts at decoration. Maggie had gathered wild flowers and filled empty tin cans with water to hold the lovely blossoms. The very arrangement of the colors and ferns showed her artistic temperament that so pleased the visitor.

“Why did you remove all the paper from the cans, Maggie? Didn’t you like the gay colors of the printing, and the pictures of tomatoes, and corn, and squash on the outside?”

“Oh sakes alive! Dem ain’t pickshers! Dey is awful ink ads. what folks have to make to boost dere stuff er not sell it!” returned Maggie, scornfully.

Uncle Ben laughed aloud. Here was truth indeed!

“So you thought that flashy tin was better, eh?”

“Not much better, Mister Uncle Ben, but cleaner—besides de flowers said dey wouldn’t stay fresh if dey had to drink water from a tin what told everyone it had one time been full of beans!” said Maggie, with disgust at the very idea!

Uncle Ben could hardly keep from laughing again, but he did not want to offend the little girl he was questioning. Now he said:

“Maybe you’d like something nicer to hold flowers?”

“’Tain’t no use wishin’—I hain’t even got any green paint to paint dese tin cans wid. If dey was green dey would look all right, ’cause you see everyt’ing—the grass, the trees, the plants demselves, is all green before the flower shoots up and opens. An’ a green can would look more like leaves for the flowers to stick up from,” explained Maggie.

Uncle Ben now found that his hostess was logical and a student of Nature’s ways and motives. He felt that his visit was teaching him more about Maggie than he ever thought to know.

The six little ones were in bed by this time, and Maggie kept glancing at the electric light which hung from the center of the sloping roof of the Nest.

“What’s wrong with it, Maggie?” asked Uncle Ben.

“It’ll go out at nine sharp an’ leave you in the dark,” said she.

“Oh—then you want to go to bed?”

“No, I don’ go to bed when dere’s a full moon like dis one. I coulden’ sleep away such a lovely time! I likes to sit on de steps and think!”

“And think? Don’t you sing to the moon, Maggie?”

“Who tol’ you?” quickly countered the little girl.

“No one told me, but the moon ought to make you feel like singing, I think,” returned Uncle Ben, soothingly.

“I sings soft-like so no one kin hear. It might wake up de children an’ make ’em cry, so I jus’ sing inside, you know!”

“So I thought. Well now, Maggie, I have a favor to ask. Suppose we ask Miss Martin in the next Nest to keep her eye on the sleeping children here, while you and I walk over to the lake and watch the moon sail over the trees. There you can sing to me without disturbing anyone, you see.”

Maggie looked at Uncle Ben and grasping his arm, said:

“I’ll do ennyt’ing for you, but you’ll wish you never ast me to sing!”

Miss Martin quickly consented to keep guard over Maggie’s brood as well as the little ones in her own Nest; and Uncle Ben shared his secret with her, while Maggie sought for a hat and an old pair of cotton gloves—for was she not going for a walk with a real gentleman! Ladies always wore gloves at such times.

Uncle Ben took Maggie’s hand to make her feel quite at ease with him, and soon the two reached the Summer House built on the little bluff overlooking the ornamental lake where Aunt Selina first heard Ruth plan for Happy Hills.

All was quiet and peaceful and the faint lap, lap, lap of the water as it was lightly rippled by the night-breezes, gave one a feeling of being in another world. So thought Maggie.

She forgot where she was and who was with her as her soul drank in the beauty of the scene, and when Uncle Ben whispered, “Sing ‘The Song of Love,’ Maggie,” she sang it softly as if in accord with her own wishes at the moment.

The melody came forth so pure and clear and free, yet so controlled, that Uncle Ben marvelled. He had found a wonder indeed!

Maggie softly trilled every song she had learned at Happy Hills, and then her silent companion took her hand and they walked back to the Nest.

“Diden’ you like my singin’, Mister Uncle Ben?” queried Maggie, wistfully, for he had not said a word.

“Maggie, it was so wonderful that I can’t speak!”

“I know! I know, how you’se feel! I always feels dat way when I stan’ outside a church an’ hears some angel singin’ inside. Den I want glad rags an’ fine ways so I kin go in an’ see de shinin’ wings an’ face what’s singin’!” cried Maggie.

“Thank you very much for this treat, Maggie, and tomorrow I will treat you in return,” said Uncle Ben, patting her head.

“Now hurry to bed, little girl. Good-night!” added the visitor, as Maggie stood on the top step of the three that led to the Nest.

CHAPTER VII
UNEXPECTED GENIUSES FOUND AT HAPPY HILLS

Uncle Ben sat up with Flutey a long time that night, after he entered the house, and when the two parted to go to bed, it had been decided to experiment as Uncle Ben planned.

The following morning the Blue Birds and Bobolinks heard Uncle Ben telephoning long-distance to New York. Having secured the number he wanted, he talked for a long time over the wire.

“Whew! That call will cost Uncle Ben a lot of money,” ventured Don, who was curious to know what it was all about.

“It will be money well invested if the returns are such as we look for,” returned Flutey, smiling but not offering to inform anyone of the cause.

“Well, Aunt Selina, it’s arranged! She’s coming down with Richards this afternoon. I’m so glad I could reach her,” said Uncle Ben, entering the breakfast room.

“And Mr. Richards said he would bring down that music teacher who used to direct the band,” added Miss Selina.

“We’ll have quite an opera company as well as an orchestra at Happy Hills,” laughed Uncle Ben, highly pleased at something.

“I guess I’ll stay at Happy Hills the rest of the Summer, Uncle Ben, and help play the drum,” now ventured Don.

“Pooh! A lot you’d play! You’d only beat it!” exclaimed Dot, for she knew there would be no place for her in the band.

“He’ll beat it from here, all right, when we go home again,” laughed Jinks.

“As soon as I finish my breakfast, I’m going over to the camp and make a tour of each Nest. I have important information to secure before noon. What do you boys and girls propose doing?” now asked Uncle Ben.

“Can’t we go with you?”

“You can go to the camp but not with me on my tour of inspection. You must amuse yourselves this morning.”

“All right! We’ll go and help the Street Cleaning Department,” offered Don.

“And we girls can watch the Health Board work. I think it must be great fun to see those girls teach the younger ones how to clean their teeth and chew their food!” giggled Ruth.

Immediately after the morning meal had ended, Miss Selina ordered Jackson to bring her wheelchair out and she sat in it, ready to start.

Flutey was no longer troubled with rheumatism, so it was not that she had to use the chair, but Happy Hills was at least a half mile from the house so that a walk there and back, besides the walking about the camp, or going in and out of the Nests, was too fatiguing for a lady long past seventy years.

“We’ll push the chair, Jackson, as we want to be with Aunt Selina,” said Ruth, as the manservant waited.

“All right, Jackson. You may attend to other duties,” added Flutey, smiling.

Uncle Ben had gone, carrying his important secret with him, but once the Blue Birds and Bobolinks were on their way to camp, they forgot about his desertion of them.

Uncle Ben reached Miss Martin’s Nest and engaged her in conversation over his secret. She was as eager as he, and soon they had decided upon what was best to do.

“Maggie, I am going to have a little talk with you, to tell you how much I liked your singing last night,” said Uncle Ben, walking up the steps of Maggie’s Nest.

The little girl was sweeping up the floor of the Nest as her visitor spoke, and quickly looking up, she smiled at him.

“I’ve decided to find someone to take the care of the children entirely from your hands during the day, Maggie, and Miss Martin says she can easily manage them as well as those she now has charge of.”

“What fur?” wondered Maggie.

“To give you plenty of time to sing.”

“Sing! Me—sing all day?” cried Maggie, amazed.

“Sing when you like and as often, but at certain times of each day you must sing and practice just the way the teacher wants you to.”

“What teacher—have we a singin’ teacher here?” gasped Maggie.

“We intend having one, and she is coming down today to start those pupils who really have good voices. I think you have a good voice but she can judge better than I. If she says you can sing, will you promise to practice?”

“Oh, Mister Uncle Ben,—will I?” came from Maggie in a trembling whisper.

“Den maybe I kin sing like dose angels in Fift Avenoo churches, hey?” added Maggie after a moment’s thought.

“Just like them, I hope—may be sweeter than they sing!”

“Oh no, Mister Uncle Ben! Never could a poor kid like me sing better’n ’em!”

“But you wouldn’t be poor if you had a fine voice,” ventured Uncle Ben, carefully watching his protégé.

Maggie’s eyes opened wider and wider as this astounding statement dawned upon her mind, and finally she dropped upon the floor beside the broom.

“Dat’s so—I coul’ buy de children all dey need an’ git some nice clo’es fer myself wid what was left!” sighed she, the tears of joy coming to her eyes.

Uncle Ben now felt sure he had read the girl aright. Her first thought had been of the little sisters and brothers who had never had what was necessary—she came last—if anything was left!

“Well, Maggie, I’m going to give you a new name for the singing teacher to use. You must always be ‘Margaret’ henceforth, and see to it, that everyone is corrected should they call you ‘Maggie.’ Tell them it was my order that you be called ‘Margaret.’”

“Oh, you’se sure kin read my wishes, Mister Uncle Ben! How I always hated that ‘Maggie’ widdout any soft music in its sayin’! But Margaret is differunt! It’s low and smooth!”

Even in this degree was the girl’s sense of harmony so finely attuned that she rebelled at hearing herself called by an inharmonious sound.

The teacher arrived with Mr. Richards and the music master on the one o’clock train, and the car soon carried them to Miss Selina’s country estate. A group of merry children met them on the steps of the veranda, and after a noisy time at luncheon, all started for the camp.

Uncle Ben had gone over the camp-ground that morning and made a list of names of those Little Citizens who showed any desire for music—to join the band or chorus at Happy Hills.

Mr. Richards had personally attended to the order of securing instruments made especially for half-grown young folks, and these bulky boxes had been shipped by special delivery to the train at the Pennsylvania railroad station that morning. They arrived at Happy Hills on the same train with the teachers.

Great was the confusion that afternoon as many of the Little Citizens tried to blow a cornet, bass horn or beat a drum. And such a squeaking and squealing as issued from many throats when the singing was tried out by the teacher!

Margaret had insisted all that morning on being called Margaret instead of Maggie, and her head was held up an inch higher with the sense of her promotion to a harmonious name.

She had allowed other girls and boys to precede her in the testing of their voices, and now she came last. Uncle Ben waited anxiously for this moment, and when she stood up beside the piano and did as the others had done, singing “Ah, eh, oh, ooh” for the teacher, he listened carefully.

“Now sing this: and close your eyes to keep out all sight of things outside your mental vision of song,” advised the teacher, as she sang the queer sounds she wished the little girl to try.

Margaret did them, and the lady had her try others, until the girl laughed: “I kin sing songs better’n ’em funny noises!”

“Can you? Well then let me hear you sing ‘The Song of Love’ that I see printed on that chart,” replied the teacher.

Margaret sang it with her natural childish voice and in spite of having never had any idea of music other than that which inspired her soul, the true placing of her voice and the volume in the tones so pleased the teacher and music master that both exclaimed:

“Mr. Talmage, I am sure we have a wonder here! If she will show the same ambition to learn properly as she does to sing naturally, we will be amply rewarded.”

The training of Margaret began that summer, and so careful was the teacher because of the girl’s youth and refined mentality, that the course seemed to include everything except singing lessons.

Margaret was taught to walk and stand properly, and when seated or lying down, to keep her body from sagging. She was given breathing exercises daily, and taught to masticate her food thoroughly. She was shown how to speak with a sweet, low voice, and to enunciate her vowels carefully, always listening for a harsh note or discordant sound in her speech.

Easy, simple songs were permitted the girl, but the majority of her exercises were “Ohs and Ahs,” until she felt that singing was not quite so easy to master as she had thought. But she persevered, and when her growth was attained and her voice matured with the years, Margaret became one of the most sought-after of all soprano church soloists!

Other voices were found at Happy Hills, but none so marvelous as Little Mother Maggie’s. A strong tenor developed from a boy’s high singing voice; and a contralto emerged from a Russian peasant child’s low-pitched voice. Both became well-known public soloists and some others who were trained that summer found success in chorus and choir work, later in life.

The band was the greatest source of attraction for the boys, however. The music master began instructions with ten pupils, each of whom, having had some teaching at school, could read notes. At first, the blare of instruments sounding from those young, hearty lungs, caused the audience to muffle their ears. As Uncle Ben remarked:

“Seems to me, a barnyard is on a strike!”

Everyone laughed and the master said: “Once more, now boys; and show Mr. Talmage how hens cackle, roosters crow, cows moo-oo, donkeys bray, and horses neigh—all together!”

And the blast that resulted made Uncle Ben run away!

But harmony came from this chaos as the boys practiced faithfully day after day, and before the band leader returned to New York he felt encouraged to keep up the class through the winter months. Uncle Ben hired an assembly room on the East Side and other boys joined the band, each one eager enough to buy his own instrument. Before the following spring, a band of forty boys could play quite well!

So much for the musical talent at Happy Hills!

A few days following the advent of the music teachers, Miss Martin called Uncle Ben’s attention to little Nelly Finn.

“Have you seen the child use pencil and paper?” asked Miss Martin.

“No. But don’t tell me we have a born artist among us,” laughed Uncle Ben.

“Really, Mr. Talmage, I think we have a designer with unusual talent,” replied Miss Martin, anxiously.

“Designer! Why the child has never been outside of a dirty tenement room. Being crippled, you know, she could not run about as other children do. Where could she see anything to inspire her brain to design?”

“Wasn’t Beethoven stone deaf? And didn’t he compose the sweetest music and most perfect symphonies without ever having heard the sound of them—other than in his own thoughts! That, as well as other wonders, proves that it is not from without that we find inspiration and true talent. It is solely from within, and one whose mind is seeking for the beautiful and eternal will find it there, whether it be music, verse, form, or color,” said Miss Martin.

“You’re a philosopher, Miss Martin, and a true one, at that,” said Uncle Ben, highly pleased at his companion’s reply to his doubts.

“So you see, Mr. Talmage, Nelly Finn may be a great designer in mind, and the fact that she does not lose her artistic ideas of what she sees and feels in her thoughts, by coarse contact with the outside world, leaves her original and expressive.”

“Well, show me some of the sketches you seem to think are so marvelous,” said Uncle Ben.

As is generally the case, those who come to laugh go away to wonder, and it was so with Uncle Ben. The moment he saw the lead-pencil lines crudely drawn on yellow manila wrapping paper, he detected the talent displayed. He took several of these samples with him to show Mr. Richards.

“What do you think of this work, Richards?”

“Where did you get them?” asked the newspaper man instantly interested.

“Oh, one of our Little Citizens is an expert artist, I find,” laughed Uncle Ben.

“Why, Talmage, this is quite clever! Do you know, we must change the name of our campers? They are not Little Citizens. They are Little Wonders! Now tell me truly, where did you get these sketches?”

“One of Miss Martin’s Nestlings, Richards. No less than puny Nelly Finn,” replied Uncle Ben.

“What! The sister of Micky, our newsboy and boot-black?” cried the astonished newspaper man.

“The same.”

“I can see myself resigning from the paper, Talmage, and giving all my attention to discovering talent at Happy Hills. Then to find teachers for such talent that it may bloom in full beauty,” laughed Mr. Richards, but he was feeling quite serious over Nelly’s development.

“We won’t hide these talents ‘in a napkin’ whatever else we have to do,” added Uncle Ben.

“But Nelly must just play and grow strong this summer, then we will enter her in some class where she will be given all the help she needs without ruining her original ideas. Who knows, Ben, but she may rule the world of fashion with her designs?”

“No one would dare prophesy such a thing to look at the wisp of a child now,” added Uncle Ben.

Nothing was said to Nelly about her gift, for they all agreed it might create other ideas in her mind than those she loved to draw upon paper. But it had been decided that she would be given a good home and a teacher to train her childish ideals to conform with her talent.

“If we keep on digging up any more geniuses at Happy Hills, Flutey, you will have to close your house this winter and take a big place in New York just to prepare a home for your Little Wonders,” teased Mr. Richards, that night after he had told about Nelly’s talent.

“Not such a bad idea, at that!” added Uncle Ben.

“Good gracious, Ben! You don’t mean it—really!” cried Miss Selina, aghast.

“Why not! Richards and I are homeless city waifs, as well as the Little Citizens, so we could live with you and help keep house,” replied Uncle Ben.

“Ben, think of my age! And New York, too!”

“Why should I think of your age now, when you have proven without a doubt that you are only fifty-five or sixty in reality! Years count for nothing when one is as spry as you are,” laughed Mr. Talmage.

“Why Ben Talmage! How you talk! Only last year I was all tied in knots with rheumatism and couldn’t walk!” cried Flutey.

“Oh Flutey, stop trying to make believe you want to be back where I found you!” exclaimed Ruth, indignantly.

The other Blue Birds laughed teasingly at Miss Selina, and she smiled too. “Yes, I suppose the surest way to charm back that rheumatic state is to think of it!” said she.

“Well, it’s just the same with old age! If you keep talking and thinking of it, pretty soon you are old and helpless! And we know you’re not—so there!” declared Ruth.

“Didn’t you trot everywhere with the Blue Birds and Bobolinks while you were at Mossy Glen?” demanded Ned, her grand-nephew.

“Yes, but I was visiting and had nothing else to do!”

“Oh, is that it! Well, I’ll tell you what, Flutey! I’ll rent the big house and ask you to visit me all winter. Then you can run about and enjoy the Little Wonders we found at Happy Hills without thinking of your age. If it is your own home that makes you so aged, we will never allow you to return here!” said Uncle Ben.

“You’re all talking a lot of poppy-cock stuff! Flutey has been livelier here at Happy Hills than I ever saw her before,” said Dot Starr, who must have a word in everything.

“Sure! Doesn’t she visit the camp twice a day, and go up and down all the steps to the Nests, to say nothing of going about the Little Farms, and hospital and Refectory. If she can stand that, she can stand a little of New York,” said Don, who felt a great attraction in this sudden idea of a New York Home for Little Wonders!

“Well, we have all summer to plan such an outlandish thing as Uncle Ben just sprang on us, so we will think it over,” said Mr. Richards, who did not think it wise to urge matters further.

“What are we going to do tomorrow, Uncle Ben?” now asked Ned.

“Farmer Jones said he would show us what he does with all the wastage from camp that the Street Cleaning Department wheels to the dump each day,” said Jinks.

“That won’t take all morning—only an hour,” added Ned.

“And after that—what do you want to do?” said Uncle Ben.

“I say, let’s give the Little Citizens a picnic. We can all go in installments in the autos to some other woods or lake and have something to eat, then play games and come back,” suggested Don.

“Oh yes, give Don a ride and something good to eat and he is happy!” jeered Meredith.

“I don’t think Don’s idea is so bad, Mete, especially as we can use some of the large farm-wagons filled with straw for the older children. They have not seen any part of the neighborhood as yet, and they ought to have an outing. We can finish all chores at camp and see that the little farms are all right for the day, and then leave Happy Hills about eleven; have a picnic luncheon somewhere and return about five,” said Uncle Ben.

“Where could we go?” asked several of the Blue Birds and Bobolinks.

“There is a beautiful lake nestling among the hills not ten miles from here,” suggested Aunt Selina. “It is used by anyone giving a picnic, and is considered free to the public, although the vast extent of woods is owned by a Philadelphia man.”

“If it is commonly used by the public, it will be just the spot. No harm will be done by going there,” said Mr. Richards.

“If we are going on a picnic tomorrow, we must plan all sorts of goodies to eat,” ventured Don, anxiously.

“Why not take what we might have at the Refectory—cook it in the woods, that’s all the difference,” said Uncle Ben.

“What’s a picnic without cake and ice-cream!” scorned Dot.

“I’ll see that the ice-cream gets there safely if Don and Dot will turn the freezers,” laughed Ned.

“We have a great freezer at the camp which is turned by electric power, so that need not worry you longer, Don,” said Flutey consolingly.

So it was decided to have a picnic the following day, and Miss Martin was telephoned at once to ask the cook and other help if they could prepare the necessities for the picnic dinner in time.

This was satisfactorily arranged, and everyone went to bed betimes so that they might rise at an early hour and help in various ways to enable all to get away on time for the outing.

CHAPTER VIII
THE STREET CLEANING SQUAD

It took little time for the news to spread around the camp that a picnic was planned for that day, and many a Little Citizen forgot newly acquired table manners, in the eagerness to talk it over.

Breakfast out of the way, the cook and her helpers went to work to freeze cream, bake cookies, and prepare other delicious goodies for the treat. The Little Mothers hurried to their Nests to attend to their several duties.

The Health Board went its round conscientiously to see that all beds were aired, all dust swept and wiped up carefully, all clothing dry and clean, and above all, that everyone brushed and cleaned their teeth properly.

The Blue Birds were present at these visits and enjoyed watching the older girls of the camp take charge of things and order the children around.

One of the Health Officers named Marybell was a red-haired, freckled girl of twelve. She was a born captain and now found her opportunity in life.

“Say you, Rebecca Einstein, who tol’ you’se to sweep that dust under de crex rug?” said Marybell upon reaching the Nest where Rebecca had the sweeping to do that day.

“Dere ain’t no dus’ pan,” complained Rebecca.

“Wall, you’se know where t’ git one, den! Go ’an git it!” ordered Marybell, pointing a determined finger towards the kitchens.

Rebecca ran, glad to be away from the disconcerting gaze of the Blue Birds.

“Now you Eliza—come here and show the ladies your teet’ an’ finger-nails,” said Marybell, selecting the girl she had the most trouble with on those very scores.

“I ain’t all done wid dem yet,——lemme run an’ finish,” said Eliza, hurriedly, but blushing at being caught so unexpectedly.

“Ain’ done! Laws me, sloven, yeh had more’n an hour since breakfast t’ do yer toilet!” exclaimed Marybell, frowning.

“She gits out of doin’ ’em all the time,” willingly tattled another girl.

“Come right here, Emmy, an’ lemme see yer own nails!” said Marybell, while the other little girls in the Nest tittered.

When Emmy slowly shuffled up and held out her fingers, Marybell expressed disgust at the sight. “A black mark fer you’se, an’ one fer Eliza! Yeh can’t be depended upon. Mebbe yeh better stay away from de picnic an’ tend to yer teet’ an’ nails!”

“Oh no, no! Please not dat, Marybell! Give us all black marks, if yeh wants to, but let us go today!” cried the two delinquents.

“Well den, git a hustle on an’ clean up before I git back,” said she, shaking a warning head at them and going her way to the next Nest.

This inspection continued, the Blue Birds enjoying every phase of it, until they arrived at one of the newest Nests—that is the tenants had just come from the city. Marybell had been asked to look after them until a regular Health Member was selected for that district of the camp.

As the visitors came near the Nest they saw a little girl with skirts pinned up about her waist, standing bare-legged in the creek, which was up to her knees. She was bending over and doing something energetically, but her back being turned to the Health Officer and the Blue Birds, they could not see what it was that so occupied her time and attention.

“What’s dat gals’ name—out in de brook?” Marybell asked one of the six Little Citizens of the Nest.

“She’s Annie Markey,” said several voices obligingly.

“What’s she standin’ in de crick fer?”

“She’s scrubbin’ her teet’ like we wuz tol’ to do.”

“Scrubbin’ her teet’ in all dat water! How long’s she been at it?” wondered Marybell.

“Ever since we came back from breakfus’, cuz she says she was tol’ all dat grey had to come offen her front teet’, an’ she can’t rub it off,” explained the oldest of the group.

Marybell hurried down to the creek and called: “Annie—hoh, Annie Markey, come out here!”

Annie turned and saw the Officer beckoning her. She came up on the bank, and Marybell saw she held a bit of broken mirror in one hand and the brand-new toothbrush in the other.

“Open yer mout’,” said Marybell.

Annie obeyed—it opened widely.

“Back teet’ all gone—nuttin’ but holes left dere! Now skin yer teet’—like dis!” And Marybell showed two rows of sharp front teeth as she wrinkled up her face fearsomely.

Annie imitated the Officer and Marybell frowned. “You’se ain’t got no kinda teet’ to clean, nohow! Dey gotta go to a dentis’ an’ be scoured er pulled—I don’ know which, but I’ll report you to de hospital anyway and let ’em do what dey says,” was Marybell’s terrifying verdict.

“Oh please don’ report me to a hospital—please! An’ I don’ want all my teet’ pulled neider! I’ll run away firs’. I come here to eat all I kin and have a good time, an’ now yeh wants to pull out my teet’ an’ I can’t chew any more!” wailed Annie.

“Nah, I don’t, Annie! I on’y wants to git out dem bad ones what will ache, an’ de udders kin be scoured to git de black off. What made ’em so bad?” soothed Marybell.

“De school-teacher in Harlem says it was ’cause I eat so much candy—me fadder keeps a candy store wid cigars, yeh see.”

“Hum—we unnerstan’—nuttin’ like trashy candy to eat up good teet’!” declared Marybell, wisely, for she had just been told a few lessons prior to this application, about the evil effects of sweets on the teeth of children.

In the last Nest in the row, Marybell found that a roof had leaked during a slight shower the preceding night. The bed-clothes of the bed standing under the stream of rainwater were soaked, but so eager was the child to finish its work and get away that the damp sheets were used in making up the bed.

“Say—you chumps, who made dis bed?” shouted Marybell, as the six Little Citizens ran up to await inspection.

“Franzy Bedell—it’s her bed!” cried five voices in unison.

“Franzy—pull off dem beddings!” ordered the Officer.

Franzy slowly removed the covers and exposed a large damp place at the foot of the mattress.

“Diden’ yeh know any better! Why, even in Rivington er Ludlow Streets, de mudders know better’n use soaked beddin’. Ye git a black mark fer dat!” exclaimed the captain of the squad.

Franzy said nothing but awaited further punishment.

“Now spread each artick’l out on somethin’ to dry an’ don’t yeh dare make dat bed till dey is good an’ dry—you hear?”

“Yes’sm!” quickly said Franzy, glad to get off so easy.

“I’m comin’ back, remember, so don’t yeh cheat again!” And with that threat, Marybell led the Blue Birds away.

On the way back to the Infirmary where Marybell had to hand in her reports, she said: “Sometimes dem ninnies jus’ pull de bed-covers up an’ smooth ’em out, tryin’ to fool me to thinkin’ dey was all aired and made fresh, but I kin tell! Yep, I kin tell every time!”

“What else do you have to watch, Marybell?” asked Ruth, who was highly interested.

“Oh, some of de kids wear clo’es what is dirty or damp from the brook, an’ I has to make ’em change er report ’em. Lots of dese East Siders can’t see good, an’ lots got somethin’ wrong wid dere noses an’ t’roats. I has to watch ef dey breat’ hard. Den I tells de nurse at de infirmary an’ she makes tests.”

“I guess there’ll be a lot of better children going back home after this summer,” mused Vene, seriously.

“Yes, and it’s too bad the city can’t let girls like Marybell take charge of certain school departments just as she is doing here at camp,” said Ruth.

Marybell now reported to the superior at the Infirmary, and the Blue Birds waited outside for her reappearance. Meantime, the Bobolinks were entertained by the Captain of the Street Cleaning Squad.

“We begin on Primrose Lane—dat runs down de middle of de camp-ground. One Member goes down Violet Lane while anudder goes down Daffodil Lane. Each member of the Squad has his own streets to take care of—dere all called by flower lanes and paths, but we fellers call ’em streets like dey do in Noo York, yeh know!”

While the Squad was collecting the rubbish that was placed outside each Nest in the morning, the Captain showed the boys how they worked for promotion. A Captain held his office two weeks and at the expiration of his term, if he was worthy, he was given a medal for service. Any boy holding a medal would be allowed to come to camp the following year. Every boy in the Squad was eager to be Captain of course, but such an office was voted upon and decided by the deportment of the applicant, during his stay in camp.

“Now come over to Farmer Jones’ dump-heap and I will show you what he does with trash and debris,” said the Captain.

As the Bobolinks neared the extreme corner of the estate far removed from camp and house, they noticed a disagreeable odor.

“Ha, ha! You smell our pigs!” laughed the Captain.

“Pigs! Whose pigs?” chorused the Bobolinks.

“Little Citizens’ pigs! We are raisin’ a hull litter of ’em on de leavin’s of de table. I’ll show you.”

The Bobolinks were soon watching the fat little porkers who had so much clean food to eat. All the garbage from the kitchens was carefully sorted by a few of the Squad each day, and the peelings or bits of raw fruit and vegetables were thrown into a great kettle near the sty. This was boiled into mush and fed to the pigs. All bread, meat and other refuse from table or kitchen, was mixed well and given to the pigs at noon. The mushy food was fed in the morning and at night. The sty was kept as clean as possible, and the pigs were scrubbed every day to keep them clean and healthy.

“Goodness me! Who scrubs them?” laughed Ned.

“Oh, we draw lots for that work. Every feller in the Squad wants to do it, but we take turns,” replied the Captain.

Then he showed the Bobolinks the other refuse heap. The papers were all picked out and kept in bags to sell. All rags were also collected for sale. Tin cans and other metals were picked out and thrown in a bin for sale also. The money thus earned was to be used for an outing or for some form of general good for the Little Citizens—such as a victrola, or game, or other pleasure.

The Bobolinks followed their host back to the camp and found the Squad had completed their rounds and were rolling the little basket-wagons to the dump. So they said good-by to the captain and ran away to join the Blue Birds who were coming from the Infirmary.

“Say, Uncle Ben has this plan worked down to a fine system, hasn’t he?” said Ned, approvingly.

“Of course he has. I’d like to own one of those pigs myself, and try for a county-fair prize,” said Jinks.

“It’s a wonder he hasn’t thought of keeping bee-hives for Little Citizens, or mushroom cellars, and a lot of other things,” laughed Meredith.

“Now say, Mete, that bee idea isn’t so bad. Let’s suggest it. Lots of these boys would be glad to try it out, I should think.”

“I’ll mention it when we get home tonight,” said Meredith.

“There’s one thing they’ve overlooked thus far, boys,” said Jinks.

“Yes—what?” queried the others.

“Some scheme to get rid of these mosquitoes and flies! That always takes the fun out of camping, I think,” replied Jinks.

“Maybe they have something planned, but it ought to work. That’s another item we’ll ask him about tonight,” said Ned.

It happened that night, after everyone was seated on the piazza of Miss Selina’s house, that the topics were mentioned and Uncle Ben had to admit that he had not yet taken care of ridding the camp of flies and mosquitoes.

“I’ll tell you what, boys! I wish you’d take charge of those two important matters and I’ll attend to the bee idea. I believe the care of bees will help the boys at camp a lot, and give them honey as well as pastime.”

“We’ll do the fly and mosquito business, all right, Uncle Ben, but we must have crude oil to sprinkle over the marshy or pool spots in the woods,” said Ned.

“Easy enough to secure oil, and whatever else you may need for the pests,” agreed Uncle Ben.

So the Bobolinks found an important work to do while they visited at Happy Hills, and not only were the Little Citizens more comfortable thereafter, but they found out how to keep free of flies and malarial mosquitoes.

CHAPTER IX
THE LITTLE CITIZENS’ PICNIC

As the time drew near for the large farm-wagons to arrive at the camp to convey the Little Citizens to the picnic ground, many eyes kept turning in the direction of the farm-yard, and every few moments one could hear a whisper of: “When will they come, do you think?”

Finally, however, a rumbling was heard and a great shout went up: “Here they come! Is everybody ready?”

“Hurrah!” “Hurry up, everyone!” and other calls made the camp sound like Bedlam for a time. The cook had ordered her assistants to pack the large baskets with all sorts of goodies, and these most valuable items of luggage were safely placed under the high seats of the farm-wagons.

While the men were superintending this work, some of the boys clambered up on the front seat and sat beside the drivers—quite a post of honor, too, to sit there! The other Little Citizens piled in wherever a seat could be found, and soon the merry, noisy crowd was ready to start.

Meantime the two touring cars had gone on to find the place and see that all was ready for the reception of the others.

On the way, the Mother’s Helpers and “First Aides” had much to do to keep order and peace in the crowded wagons of happy children. Finally the lake was seen and a loud clamoring came from throats eager to have a rough-and-tumble frolic once more—such as was common in the city.

The Police and Firemen forgot their duties in the general scramble for the boats, of which there were three.

“Citizens! Don’t anyone get into the boats—I find they are not water-proof!” shouted Uncle Ben through his hand-megaphone.

“Oh gee! What’s the fun of comin’ here if we can’t sail?” grumbled one of the Street Cleaning Department.

“Say, Muller, don’t you give de Boss any sass, now, er I’ll lock yeh up fer de day!” threatened a Policeman, roused to an abnormal sense of duty.

“Who’s givin’ him sass! Can’t a feller ask a question widdout de police buttin’ in?” complained Jakey Muller.

“Dass all right! Jest don’t say nawthin’, see!” returned the Policeman, as he hurried away to watch a base-ball drawing for pitcher and batter in the forthcoming game.

“Humph! Think ye’re smart ’cause yuh got on a blue uniform. Ef I wants to sail de boat, I does, so there!” mumbled Jakey to himself, as he watched the Policeman disappear.

“Heigh, Jakey—come on over and see the fun!” now called a friend a short distance away.

The discontented boy turned and saw some friends waiting for the farm-hands to finish putting up some fine swings, but such a tame form of sport failed to attract the Little Citizen, who had determined to ride in a boat or do nothing at all.

Soon after this a score or more of children were having lots of fun swinging and being the motive-power back of the swings, for “pushing” the others so high that they would scream in dread of falling was more delight than being in the swing screaming!

A group of Little Citizens were paddling in the edge of the pond, watched over by Little Mothers and a few grown-ups. A group went exploring up the hillside, feeling sure that a bear’s cave, or perhaps, the secret home of the Wood Nymphs would be found on the expedition.

Uncle Ben and some of his helpers were clearing away the brush and stones that were in the way of a smooth eating-spot. The grass must be clean and level, for dinner to be safely served there. The boys were wildly applauding a “home-run” and some of the riders in the swings were “letting the old cat die,” when Jakey stepped into a boat just to sit down and rock it for fun!

A crowd of little girls were playing “drop the handkerchief” and other outdoor games, when Jakey felt lonely in the boat. He decided to ask others to join him.

“Hey, H’lena Bissel—come on over and sit by me—it’s lots of fun rockin’ t’ boat!” called he.

“Mister Uncle Ben told us not to an’ I won’t!” called back Helena.

“Don’t then! Sugar-lump!—sugar-lump, too good to melt!” taunted Jakey, making a grimace at the little girl.

“I ain’t ‘sugar ner spice’ but you’re nuttin’ but ‘snails an’ puppy-dog tails,’ so!” jeered Helena, who had heard the Mother Goose line and wanted to repeat it at the first occasion.

“Mamma’s pet! Mamma’s pet—what can’t do what she wants cuz she’s too goody-good!” replied Jakey, turning his back upon the angry little girl.

Helena marched away from his company, and soon Jakey saw Maggie’s little sister Prunel with nothing to do.

“Come and play wid me, Prunel,” coaxed he, not mentioning the boat this time as it seemed to inspire his hearers with doubt and fear.

Prunel (where Maggie had found the name is hard to say) was really named Polly, but such harsh sounds could not be tolerated by Mother Maggie, and when she took control of the six younger sisters and brothers, she saw to it that each one had a beautiful name, thus Polly became Prunel.

Prunel was about seven and very energetic for her age. It took much of Maggie’s time and thought to keep Prunel out of mischief at Happy Hills. In the city, Prunel had to attend school and look after a short route of newspaper deliveries after school.

“What’che playin’, Jakey?” asked Prunel, coming over to the lake-side.

“Oh I’m a navy battle-ship and dat submarine’s tryin’ to blow me up. I am shootin’ him all to pieces, see?”

As he explained, Jakey aimed stone after stone at the nearest boat while he stood balancing himself in the other boat.

“Shall I be the German what shoots the torpedo?” asked Prunel, all intense interest.

“Naw, you git in wid me and both of us kin sink him, I guess,” replied Jakey.

“It won’t be half as much fun as if we had someone to really fight,” suggested Prunel.

“I got a fine idea—you jus’ get in here quick!”

So Prunel, without knowing it had been forbidden, got in the boat with Jakey, eager to hear his plan.

“I’m goin’ to break dis rope what holds the boat, yeh see, an’ float around both dose submarines by holdin’ fast to dese overhanging branches, see?”

“Don’t you let go on ’em—cuz yeh hain’t got no rope er oars to get back wid,” warned Prunel, anxiously.

“Do you t’ink I’m such a silly?” said Jakey, as the boat swung about to the great excitement of both sailors.

It bumped into the end of the other boat, and the children laughed gayly as Jakey said: “Maybe I diden’ jar dat Hun dat trip, eh?”

“It would be heaps more fun if you’d get in anudder boat and play shoot at mine. I could fire back, and we could see which one gets hit t’ most—den he would be sunk, you know!” said Prunel.

“It sounds good—say, you keep in dis boat while I jump in dat one. You’ve got a lot of stones left but I kin get some from the bank in a minute,” consented Jakey.

Jakey went to the end of the boat and stood upon the prow waiting for an opportunity to spring over into the adjoining boat. This was easy to do, and soon he jumped and landed safely in the bottom of the flat boat, but the impetus he used when springing sent the other boat out from under him and Prunel, being alone and without any hold on willow-branch or rope, was floated out from shore.

“Say, Jakey Muller—hurry out and get me back!” called Prunel, but not loud enough for the others to hear, as she knew it was not just what she should have done without asking permission.

“S-sh! Wait a minute! I’ll wade out and pull you back!” replied Jakey, in a low voice also.

He sat down and pulled off his sandals and stockings, but the boat had caught the edge of the current that made a channel quite near shore at this spot of the lake.

He endeavored to reach the end of the boat but it eluded his hand. Then he waded deeper and tried again, still the boat moved outward and Prunel was becoming frightened.

“Oh pshaw—I gotta jump fer it!” growled Jakey, and at that he reached quickly while taking a far-advanced step. His foot went in a hole, and he fell face downward into the lake. The boat sped onward now faster, as it felt the carrying tide of the current.

Before Jakey could regain his footing and splutter out the water that choked him and blinded his eyes, Prunel was at least fifty feet from shore. She had remained perfectly quiet until now, thinking Jakey would surely rescue her. But when she saw him fall, and get up again without hope of reaching her, she began to whimper with fear.

Jakey took a last look at her and with fear in his eyes as he thought of his disobedience, he turned to run away from the picnic grove—even if he had to run all the way back to the city. He could not face Uncle Ben’s stern rebuke, for he was sure he would be properly scolded and punished for breaking a law.

Had not Maggie seen a boat with one passenger skim out in the direction of the old grist-mill, Prunel might have met with more serious disaster than that which befell her craft.

“Looka dere, Miss Marting! A little girl is out in a boat alone,” called Maggie to her friend.

“Why—it’s——” Miss Martin quickly glanced at Maggie before completing her sentence.

But Maggie, too, saw a resemblance to Prunel. She hurriedly hunted about amongst the groups of children, and not finding her sister anywhere, she shouted to one of the Policemen.

In the meantime, Miss Martin, understanding the situation, ran to tell Uncle Ben what had happened to Prunel. He called upon the Police and Firemen nearest him and all ran to the place where the three boats had been tied but a short time before.

Here they saw Jakey wading from the water and taking to his heels so the Policeman who had warned him cried: “Now what’che gone and done?”

Jakey trembled from head to foot as he was caught and brought back to Uncle Ben. Then he explained how the accident had happened to Prunel. As he hurriedly described the scene, the Police found that neither boat had any oars so pursuit to bring back the water-waif in that way was out of the question.

“Can anyone swim dat far?” questioned one of the firemen.

“Not in fresh water—I kin swim anywhere in salt water,” returned one of the boys.

“Mebbe de boat’ll float in to shore down furder. Mister Uncle Ben, dere’s a finger of land runs out way down, you see!”

“But there is also a mill-race just the other side of that finger of land, and the current to the mill runs mighty fast about that jutting bank. If the boat doesn’t come in or isn’t caught before it reaches that place it is impossible to say what may be the consequences. An old water-wheel turns the mill and the race feeds the wheel. The child is in danger out there with no means of helping herself and we are here with no way to reach her,” said Uncle Ben, anxiously.

“What’s all the excitement—anyone fall overboard?” called Jinks, coming up and asking his question laughingly.

“Little Prunel is afloat in that boat—see her down the lake there?” replied Mete, who was standing beside Uncle Ben.

“Great Scott! And all of you standing around here doing nothing?” cried Jinks, scornfully, running away to the squad of Police who were still umpiring the last game of ball.

“Hey there! Dutchy—did you bring your dog?” yelled Jinks, when he had covered half the distance between the two groups.

“Yeh! Why?” came back the answer.

“What’s Jinks going to do with the dog?” asked Uncle Ben, starting to run after the boy, and thus starting all the other boys on the ground running after him. Inside of a minute the long line of boys running, looked like a thriller in a moving-picture play.

“Leave it to Jinks to think up some way of rescue!” called Ned and Mete, panting beside Uncle Ben.

“Remember that fire we went to when we were on the Canal trip?” added Don, who came just too late to do all the talking to Jinks.

Before the crowd of curious boys reached the spot where Jinks had hurriedly explained the situation to Bill, the two boys and a few of the ball-players had started off along the shore, calling and whistling to the great mongrel dog that was Bill’s beloved and particular care.

The shaggy, tawny hound came crashing from the bushes with tail wagging joyously at the unusual outing he was given that day. When Bill saw him, he snapped his fingers and called excitedly:

“Crummie go in and fetch! Fetch it out, good ol’ doggie!” and at the same time, he threw a stone far out into the lake to attract the dog’s attention to the water.

Crummie went in ker-splash and swam about for a short time looking for the object which his master had thrown for him to bring out again.

“Say, Dutchy, Prunel is too far out for the dog to reach—let’s run along shore till we get to the finger over there. You see, the current runs quite close in to shore there and we can send Crummie out from that spot. Maybe we can tie a rope to his collar and let him swim out with it to the boat, then we can pull the girl in to shore,” quickly explained Jinks.

“Fine! Say you, Dink Brown—run back and get a rope er somethin’ fer us, will you? We’ll be down on that finger waitin’ fer you. Mebbe we kin shout an’ make the kid hear what we want her to do,” replied Bill.

Before he had completed his sentence, Dink was running back to Uncle Ben to ask for a rope. Then the other boys with the dog ran swiftly away to the spot Jinks had designated.

As they ran, Jinks found a section of newspaper on the pathway, and this he caught up and began rolling into a long tube.

“What’s ’at fer?” asked Bill.

“Make a megaphone for us to call through, you know.”

“Big idea! Make it wide at the open end so’s she can git the call better. If you make it narrow the sound won’t go out so clear, you see.”

At the finger of land, Jinks stood out on a large rock and shouted and shouted at Prunel who was crying fearfully and kneeling in the bottom of the boat while clinging to the oar-lock.

At the echo of Jinks’ call she looked about but did not at first see the boys standing where the channel curved in towards land. At the second shout, however, she looked in the direction from which the sound came, and stopped wailing as she saw the group of police waiting to assist her.

Then she heard her name called and listened to what was said.

“We’re going to send the dog out to the boat—you call ‘Here Crummie! here Crummie!’ as soon as he goes in the water. He will come to you and then you will find a rope tied to his collar. Fasten the rope to the ring in the boat and we will haul you in!”

It needed several trials before Prunel understood the plan, but once she did it was all right, although the boat was fast reaching the place where the current flowed in towards land so the dog had to hurry out with the rope if it was to work as planned.

“Here I come—get him ready!” called the boy who had been sent for the rope.

The boys turned and saw him racing along with a long coil of swing rope that had been hastily cut down to use. Dink, being the swiftest runner in camp, was soon back with the Police and Jinks.

One end of the rope was tied to Crummie’s old leather collar and then he was sent in to bring out Prunel. At the same time Jinks shouted through the megaphone:

“Call him, Prunel! Call him, again and again, till he reaches you with the rope.”

Then they heard the little girl cry excitedly: “Here Crummie! Here Crummie!”

“See her over there, Crummie? Fetch her out! Fetch her out, I say! Go get it—get it—good doggie!” coaxed Bill.

And Crummie, sniffing over the water, saw the approaching boat and heard the child’s cry for help. Instantly the yellow dog understood what was required of him and in he went, dragging the long line of rope after him.

The boys on shore held their breath so the dog would not be confused, and Prunel kept on calling, “Here Crummie! Here Crummie! Good dog—come to me, Crummie!”

And the dog swam as fast as he could in a direct line for the object he saw on the surface of the lake. He came within five feet of it when it swept past him in the current now running fast to the mill-race.

Groans and cries on shore showed that more than one anxious group were watching the efforts of the brave dog. But Crummie was of the nature that resents failure or trickery. He was of the dogged kind that will fight harder in spite of all obstacles, and perseverance and persistence always win out!

Crummie kept on swimming after the boat while Prunel continued calling and pleading, and the boys on the bank kept on anxiously letting the rope out and wondering if it was long enough to reach.

“Gee, Jinks, it’s the end!” gasped Bill.

And just as Jinks was about to give up in despair, one of the other boys yelled: “By golly! Crummie’s got hold of the rope that dragged after the boat!”

Everyone strained their eyes to see, and sure enough the dog had caught hold of the rope that had tied the boat to the bank and was swimming back the way he came against the current.

The struggling animal was not making much headway against the swift stream and Jinks instantly saw that he would tire himself out and be useless, so he signaled to Bill, and the two ran through the bushes growing on the shore and reached a place opposite the boat. Then Jinks called again to the dog.

“Here, Crummie! Crummie, come in here!”

At the strange voice, the dog stopped battling against the current but did not turn. However, Bill saw through Jinks’ idea and quickly abetted him.

“Here, good old Crummie! Fetch it home! Fetch it home!”

And at his master’s well-known call, the dog turned and swam for shore where the two boys were waiting to help. Jinks pulled off his shoes and stockings, rolled up his trousers and waded in as far as he could. When Crummie came within arm’s reach, Jinks leaned out to catch hold of the rope, but the dog growled fiercely.

“Ha, ha, ha! Crummie won’t let you interfere! He don’t know what you’re after—mebbe you want to take away the prize he’s bringin’ in to me!” laughed Bill, delightedly, now that the strain was over.

Even Jinks laughed at the treatment he had been given by the dog, but Crummie dragged the rope straight up to his master and left it in his hands. Then it was seen that the rope that had been tied to the old collar had torn it away and was out in the lake.

“When did the swing rope break?” asked Don, who failed to understand.

“Soon after the strain came on it, most likely,” said Mete.

“I’ll tell you what I think!” ventured Uncle Ben, who had hurried up with Maggie, and now stood patting Crummie’s wet, matted head.

The children all looked at him for an opinion, and he continued:

“I think that Crummie would have gone for that boat and found his own way to drag it back to land, whether any of you boys had interfered with him or not. Now, seeing that our hero dog lost his neck-band in his effort to save a life, I shall award him the medal for bravery this month. Anyone opposing this motion say ‘No!’; if there is no opposition and everyone agrees with me that Crummie shall have the prize let us all say ‘Aye!’”

Such a tremendous shout of “Ayes” went out instantly, that Crummie was unanimously voted the hero for the month, and Bill was the proudest boy in camp.

“What’s the prize going to be, Uncle Ben?” asked Don.

“Oh something that Crummie will appreciate and everyone will stop to admire and read. I’m thinking a wonderful studded collar with his name and the story of the rescue engraved on a silver plate might be suitable.”

“Oh yes—yes, indeed!” chorused most of the Blue Birds and Bobolinks.

“And, Uncle Ben, spend a lot of money on it to make it as big and shiny as you can,” advised Dot Starr.

“How much money do you think will do?” asked Uncle Ben, teasingly.

“Well, you know how much a funeral for Prunel would have cost if Crummie hadn’t saved her life, so you might as well spend that much anyway,” replied Dot in all seriousness.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea!” cried Don, inspired by his twin’s words. “Have it tell on the collar that the prize is a souvenir of a watery grave that was never filled by the saved child ’cause Crummie was here to fly to the rescue—you might say ‘swim’ to the rescue, only it doesn’t sound as grand as ‘fly.’”

Everyone laughed heartily at Don’s suggestion, and Ned said: “Don’s growing a streak of poesy and we all had better beware or he’ll rhyme us into jingles some day.”

Don scorned such ideas, and after giving Ned a meaning look, he said: “I wouldn’t be anything so silly as a jingler like Ned Talmage is! I’m going to buy Crummie and start a kennel of fine life-saving dogs to send to the Allies! So there!”

“Ha! that’s why Don wants Uncle Ben to spend all that funeral money on a collar. He’ll sell the collar and keep the money to found the kennels!” laughed Mete, in a big brother’s tone of voice.

“Say, you kids! Don’t fool yourselves on dat score! Dis dog is mine and he stays mine till the las’ trumpet blows—see!” was the last word from Crummie’s master, and the yellow dog wagged his tail approvingly as he blinked up into Bill’s blue-green eyes.

CHAPTER X
MISS MARTIN’S NATURE STORIES

The picnic was declared a grand success in spite of the fright little Prunel had had, for such a thrill as the Little Citizens had been treated to at the danger and escape of one of their members was not to be had every day! So that event added glory to the occasion and was one long to be remembered.

The day after the outing, most of the Little Citizens were seated at the Auditorium (as they called the Refectory when other occasions demanded its use) waiting for the Blue Birds who had promised to come and hear Miss Martin’s nature story that day.

Miss Martin was seen coming from her Nest and soon after she had greeted the children, the Blue Birds were heard laughing and talking as they hurried down Harebell Road.

When all were seated Miss Martin began:

“I’m going to tell you about some pests we have in camp, and your Uncle Ben agreed to be present so he could hear what a nuisance they are. I see him coming from the Fire-house so he will soon be here. Before he arrives, however, I want to ask you children a favor. When my story is finished I shall call upon you to ask how many will volunteer to work in the Health Department for a few days to get rid of flies and mosquitoes, and I wish everyone here to offer their services to Uncle Ben.”

“Oh we will! You don’t have to ask us a favor like that—we’d do it anyway!” replied one of the Health Inspectors.

“Am I late?” asked Uncle Ben, now coming over to the group gathered to hear the stories.

“Just in time,” replied Ruth, making a place for him.

“My first story will be about a mosquito that settled down at Happy Hills and founded the colony of pests that annoys us so at camp.

“Skinny was a malarial mosquito that happened to crawl from the reeds near the lake into a carpenter’s tool-chest while the man was eating his lunch late last fall. As his job was completed, the carpenter caught up the tool-box and hurried towards Miss Selina’s place to leave it in the tool-house.

“Skinny was very sleepy because of the cold air, and the tool-box being left in a snug, sunny spot on a shelf in the tool-house, she soon fell asleep for the long cold winter months.

“But in the spring the warm sun-rays roused her and she began to open her sleepy eyes and stretch her stiffened legs; her poor wings she could not use at once—they were so nerveless and stiff that it took some practice to whip them into general use again. She succeeded somewhat, just as the carpenter came in and took up the tool-chest.

“‘Where’re you goin’ to work, Pete?’ asked a man standing outside the shed.

“‘Down at Happy Hills Camp. I’m goin’ to build some Nests for the Blue Birds’ Little Citizens, you know.’

“‘Well, thar ain’t no mosquitoes around er no flies, either, so you won’t be pestered any, I guess,’ said the first man, as Pete walked away down Daffodil Lane.

“Skinny heard the conversation and smiled. ‘Not a mosquito on the place, eh? Well I will have to get busy and change that lonesome state of affairs mighty quick!’

“So poor Pete carried the little pest along in his harmless tool-chest, and while he left it standing in the sunshine until he could find the boss carpenter, the sun-rays made Skinny feel so lively that she decided to try her wings and soar a bit.

“This was easier than she had thought possible, so she flew down to a little shallow pool in the creek for a drink of water. Here she found a slimy little back-water puddle so warm and comfortable that she soon chose that spot for the eggs she proposed laying to found the mosquito colony of Happy Hills.

“Early the following morning, Mrs. Spot Toad saw hundreds of oblong-shaped eggs floating on the slimy pool, but it was none of her business so she did not report the matter to the Board of Health as one of the Little Citizens would have done. In fact Spot was so busy with her own family cares that she forgot all about the mosquito larvæ soon after she had seen the small sooty specks floating on the water.

“Skinny left her eggs to hatch and went her way rejoicing, but not for long!

“She had hardly reached a tree where a dozing carpenter tempted her to eat, when a mother Blue Bird swooped down from her nest and caught up the lean, lanky mosquito to feed to her babies. Of course there was no nourishment in a poor thing like Skinny, but it would help fill the gaping mouths of the baby-birds a bit!

“Inside of twenty-four hours, Skinny’s eggs began to hatch out, but they were not mosquitoes—they were wrigglers. In appearance they resembled wooly, little caterpillars, but one end of the squirming body was the breathing tube for air. The fuzzy part of the wriggler was the means of its moving about, and they all wriggled or jerked about continually. Some grew faster than others, but all grew very fast, their heads seeming to grow faster than their bodies.

“In about six days’ time the wrigglers had grown so strong that they floated on the top of the water in the hot sunshine, so that the heat might crack open the skins that enclosed the young mosquitoes. As one shell opened after another, the insects crawled out and waited upon the tops of their little boats to dry their wings and legs. The sun soon accomplished this work, and then the hundreds of young mosquitoes were flying about waiting for an opportunity to eat something good.

“About this time the first Little Citizens appeared at Camp, and many of the children ran down to the creek to play in the water. Of course Skinny’s family sniffed the sweet young blood of the children there, and many a young mosquito ate till it almost burst open, and the Little Citizen had an irritating bite on arms or legs.

“Many, many of the young mosquitoes remained near the creek and laid eggs for a new family, and others flew away to the puddles in the woods, or settled on the eaves of the roof where rainwater had left tiny pools. Others saw the lake, and still others found water in pails or bottles and vessels of all sorts. In a very short time every one of Skinny’s children was laying a multitude of eggs that would hatch out in a day or two, and in ten to twelve days there would be a pest of mosquitoes at Happy Hills.

“By the time Little Citizens were running about these woods, playing, or digging by the creek, or making mud-pies from the soft mud in the little pools, thousands and thousands of nasty mosquitoes were flying and humming everywhere, while hundreds of thousands were being hatched from the wrigglers that had been the outcome of eggs laid by every mosquito in the place.

“Finally the Little Citizens had such itching red spots on their bodies, and so many of the younger children had to keep away from the fascinating little brook because of the pesky, stinging insects, that Uncle Ben said something must be done at once to rid Happy Hills of this menace.

“But what can we do to so many? If we have to catch every wriggler or mosquito about Happy Hills, it will take ten times the number of Little Citizens here to catch and kill them—and then there will be thousands of insects left to breed new pests.

“Ah, but there is a way that will smother all the young and kill the old mosquitoes! Now listen carefully!

“We will get kerosene or crude oil, and pour a little on the surface of the water wherever we think a mosquito has laid her eggs. While we are doing it, we will oil all the still waters so no mosquito will dare to settle anywhere and lay new eggs.

“You see the oil will spread out over the surface of the water and keep the wrigglers from getting air for their bodies—this will soon smother them and they will sink to the bottom of the pool, dead! The old mosquitoes that should come to visit the pond or pools, will light upon the glassy, oiled water and instantly find it impossible to remove their hairy legs; besides, their noses will be filled with the fumes and soon choke them so that they, too, will sink down to the bottom of the stagnant pool or float dead upon the oil.

“Happy Hills will then become a comfortable place at night and a more enjoyable camp for the children at day.”

Miss Martin concluded her first story and the children showed their interest by the many questions they asked. Among other things, she was asked if there was more than one kind of mosquito, and this brought up an explanation of the difference between the malarial mosquito and the simply poisonous, stinging kind.

“The mosquito that causes malaria by its bite can be detected if you see it sting, for it always stings with head pointed downward and its tail and hind legs held straight up in the air. The common mosquito stands with its body on a horizontal line when it stings, but both kinds are poisonous and are of no use whatever. The sooner the country is cleared of such plagues the better.”

“You have done a good work, Miss Martin, by telling us how to rid the camp of mosquitoes. I ordered several barrels of unrefined petroleum oil and Jones told me this morning that they are at the freight station. He is there now with a wagon to bring them back. When he comes, we will all start in with cans and anything we can find to hold oil, to hunt mosquitoes,” remarked Uncle Ben.

“There’s another pest to be gotten rid of, Mr. Talmage,” suggested Miss Martin.

“And have you a story ready for it?” laughed Ned.

“It won’t take a moment to weave one just as long as we may need for the occasion,” replied Miss Martin.

“Is it the fly that you have such an antipathy to?” continued Uncle Ben.

“Yes, it is, and if you will do as I advise, Happy Hills will soon be rid of flies as well as mosquitoes,” rejoined Miss Martin.

“Well, tell us a story and we will judge of the importance of the battle against the fly,” said Uncle Ben.

So Miss Martin sat thinking for a few seconds before she began:

“‘Oh, Flossy, did you know Uncle Ben Talmage has started a camp at Happy Hills for the Little Citizens?’ cried a noisy fly to her companion one nice day in June.

“‘Really! How interesting; but what good will that do us here? We are keeping house in the pig’s trough, so how could we hope to reach camp so far away?’

“‘I’ll tell you about a plan I have, Flossy. Of course, there will be lots of children staying the summer at Happy Hills, and where there are little ones there is sure to be food and things lying about for flies to picnic upon. Now we can steal a ride from the pig-sty to the camp when Farmer Jones feeds the pigs. We can sit in the bottom of his swill-cans and sneak into camp without anyone seeing us. Once there we can set up housekeeping at any of the Nests. Soon we will have a large family and found a great fly-colony.’