TOM AND AUDRY

Tom and Audry took many strolls in the evenings and often sat in the little pavilion which he and Whalen had built. On these occasions he told her much about the scouts and especially about Temple Camp.

“Do you know,” he said as they sat in the little rustic shelter one evening, “the first time I saw you and noticed how you wore knickers and khaki and all that, I thought probably you were just out for adventure; you know what I mean. Gee, I never thought that you took an interest in the other side of scouting. Most kids that go in for it don’t stop to think about anything but just fun and adventure.”

“I’m not exactly a kid,” she said prettily.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that, but I mean—you know—”

“The idea underlying scouting,” she said.

“Yes that’s it, the idea underlying it.”

“Service and citizenship,” said Audry.

“That’s just it. Most fellows don’t think anything about that at all. I guess I don’t either. I guess most girls don’t either. You see lots of them that wear khaki and knickers and all that, and go hiking, who don’t really understand what it’s all about—I mean scouting. That’s where you’re different from other girls.

“When you were afraid to walk along that ledge with me I was sort of disappointed. But I see now I should never have asked a girl to go out on a place like that. There’s something else besides stunts in scouting, I’ve learned that from you. All this chasing around in the woods doesn’t mean anything unless you’re strong for service. You’ve got to learn to be strong in every way—so as to make good citizens.”

Poor Tom, he was very far gone in admiration for this girl in khaki who was afraid to go out on a ledge. He saw the new light which she showed him with a readiness which should have flattered her. It was just her own teaching reflected as in a mirror.

What he never thought to remind her was that the great outdoors, the woods, the rough life, and even the dangerous ledges, are what make one big and broad. And that if one is big and broad and wholesome, why then he has a fine character and if he has a fine character he is a good citizen. And that’s all there is to it. Poor Tom, with all his wholesome, adventurous life, could not see this because pretty and clever Audry Ferris got in the path of his vision and dazzled him. She was not superior to him, she was only smarter.

“It isn’t strength of body that makes a soldier,” she said. “It’s strength of character. To have the strength to do something unpleasant because it’s right. That was what won the war. That was what triumphed over militarism—bodily strength.”

“You—bet—your—sweet—life,” said Tom. “I wish some of those kids at Temple Camp could hear you talk. They seem to think scouting is just a game. Why you never see any of them studying. We have laws, good ones, but do you suppose they ever read them? Not much.”

“As I understand it,” said Audry, “it isn’t just building bonfires and sending signals and all that. It’s the idea of service—”

“Why sure it is,” Tom vociferated. “You see right through it.”

“Service for the common good,” she said.

“Absolutely,” said Tom.

She had read the phrase in a book but poor Tom did not know that.

“That’s the trouble with these men up here,” Audry said. “They have strength enough, goodness knows. But they’re all failures. They’re not assets to their country.” This imposing phrase she had likewise derived from a book. “That’s how you are different from them—you have character.” Tom gazed delightedly at her. “You can efface yourself,” she said complacently.

Tom did not want to efface himself. He felt that he was just beginning to live. He felt rough and crude in her presence, and a little ashamed that he had made such a god of the woods. He had not understood scouting in its finer sense.

“Trouble with me I’ve been mixed up with a crew of wild Indians,” he said. “I was in service and I saw fellows die for the cause, too. But I never sat down and thought about these things as you have.”

“If your scouting is any good at all,” Audry said, “it isn’t because it teaches you to cook. Mirandy can do that.”

“Sure she can,” laughed Tom in admiration of her lucid wit.

“If it doesn’t teach you service, what use is it?” Audry persisted, looking at him with her big, brown eyes.

“You said it,” said Tom. “God and country, that’s what the scout handbook says.”

“That’s why I wasn’t so carried away by what Mr. Whalen did,” said Audry. “A great many men are strong and even brave. It’s character that counts. These men are all deficient in some way. None of them will ever really amount to anything because they can’t lay a course and follow it.”

Tom was speechless with admiration.

“But you have character—purpose,” she said.

They arose to go and Tom helped her over puddles which had remained after the late rains. He did not release her hand as promptly as he might have done. And when he did, he ventured to adjust the sweater which hung rather loosely on her shoulder. He was all for service.

“I think a fellow can learn a lot more from a girl than he can from another fellow, don’t you?” he asked. “I mean especially—you know what I mean—if she—sort of—you know—has an influence on him?”

His passion for service had become so great that on their way to the cottage he reached over and adjusted the sweater on her further shoulder so that it might more effectually protect her from the rising breeze. He did this carefully, not hurriedly.

After he had left her he was sorry that when they spoke of service he had not reminded her that Ned Whalen had been in service and had a cruel wound to show for it. His thoughts lingered on Whalen but he thought of him mostly in connection with Audry. His thoughts of Whalen were a sort of by-product....