An exclamation escaped dazed Nathalie; and then a search was started, resulting at last in finding the card in one of the pockets of the skirt. Another cry issued from the finder as she read:

“O dear!” said the girl with a shamed glance into the faces surrounding her, “I will never again say that Lucille is cross—oh, she is a duck of a dear! It is the very thing I want, too. Now I shall not be the only Pioneer without a uniform. I must run and tell Helen!” In another moment she was racing with mad speed across the lawn, the uniform bulging out of the half-opened box in her arms.

In a short space she came speeding back, crying, “Oh, Mother, where is Lucille? I must go and thank her this very minute!”

“Up in her room, I think,” spoke up Dick, but Nathalie was already half-way up the stairs.

“Lucille, it was just too lovely of you to think of me this way!” cried the girl rapturously; and then before Lucille realized what was going to happen, she was receiving a hug that threatened to demolish her entirely. “There, Nathalie Page,” she cried, “that’s more than enough; please leave just a wee bit of me, I’ll take your thanks for granted.”

“No, you won’t!” persisted Nathalie with another hug. “I’m here to give them to you in person.” She loosened her hold so her cousin could breathe and then began to kiss her softly on the cheek. “Oh, but, Lucille, it was lovely of you to think of it,” she ended as she finally freed her cousin, who ruefully began to twist up a few stray locks that had been pulled down in the hugging process.

“Oh, pshaw, I don’t want any thanks,” Lucille responded as she finished tucking up her hair. “As long as you are pleased, it’s all right.”

“But I’m serious, Lucille, for you have heaped coals of fire on my head, I’ll have to ’fess that I was not a bit pleasant about waiting on you, because, you see, I had so much to see to with the Pioneer Stunts, the work, and everything, and then—”

“And then,” mimicked Lucille with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I’m an awful cross patient; is that it? But it’s all right, Nat, turn about is fair play, and if you had felt as badly as I did those few days, to miss it all, the anticipated good times at Bessie’s, well, you would have been cross, too.”

“Oh, I know it, and I was worse than you were, for I should have possessed my soul in patience, but it was perfectly dear of you to give me the uniform, and then to be so nice about it.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m nice,” teased her cousin, “but run along, child, for I have about forty-seven letters to get off by this mail.”

And Nathalie, with a heart brimful of joy at the many surprises of the day, was very glad to hurry away and talk matters over with her mother.

“What shall I talk to Nita about?” she lamented the next morning as she flew hither and thither, getting her work done in a jiffy so that she could reach the gray house by ten-thirty, the hour set for the talk with the princess, as Nathalie delighted to call her.

“Mother, can’t you suggest something?” she asked dolefully as she stooped to kiss her mother good-by. “I do feel that it will not be right for me to take money for just chattering nonsense, and Nita won’t let me tell her stories.”

“Well, it does seem as if it was undue extravagance, but still, if Mrs. Van Vorst thinks you are worth paying in order to help make her child’s life more enjoyable, it seems to me I should not worry about it.”

“Yes, I know, but if I could only tell her stories,” rejoined the girl, “perhaps I could help her more, for I could make my stories instructive, about nature, history, or—”

“That is true,” was the answer. And then, as if reminded by the word history, she said, “Why not tell her stories about the Pioneer women? You say she is so interested in the Girl Pioneers. In that way you could teach her American history.”

“Oh, Mumsie, you are a dear,” cried elated Nathalie. “That is just the thing, how stupid I was not to think of it! I will stop at the library on my way home this afternoon. What a help it will be to me, too, for we are going to have a fagot party, sort of a good-by to Louise Gaynor. Gloriana! I won’t have any reading to do for that, for I’ll be posted from my talks with Nita.” Then she was off down the walk on her “way to business,” as she laughingly told her mother.

“Oh, tell me all about the Pioneer Stunts!” exclaimed the princess as Nathalie settled herself for a cozy chat after her cheery greeting to her new pupil. Nita’s eyes were sparkling expectantly, and the anticipated chat with her new friend had brought a tinge of color to her usually pale face.

“We have not had that as yet; it is to take place to-morrow night—oh, I’ll tell you all about it,” was the reply. And then, as Mrs. Van Vorst entered the room with a pleasant good morning, Nathalie demanded, “Do you not want me to tell stories to Nita?”

“That is for Nita to decide,” was the careless rejoinder. “I have asked you here to please my daughter, and if she wants you here just to talk, why, talk away.”

“But I feel as if I ought to instruct her in some way,” demurred Nathalie.

“Do not worry,” returned Mrs. Van Vorst. “You will be worth all you earn if you only succeed in making Nita happy for two hours, and give her something to look forward to when you are not here. Of course, if you could get something informative in once in a while, it would do good, no doubt.”

“I don’t want any stories,” interrupted Miss Nita petulantly. “Miss Stitt used to tell me stories by the yard and I have hated them ever since.”

Nathalie made no reply; she was thinking how she could slip in a bit of information without Nita’s realizing it. “Oh, I will tell you about the flag drill!” she cried with sudden thought.

“Yes, do,” acquiesced Nita, readily falling into the trap. “I want to know just everything about it.”

“Well, you shall,” promptly returned her delighted teacher, and forthwith she set to define the meaning of the word liberty. “You know, Nita, when the Pilgrims and Puritans settled America they came here to build homes where they could have liberty of conscience, speech, and action. Of course, you know all about how these first little settlements grew, until there were thirteen of them that bade fair to become very populous and wealthy. Well, the King of England, fearing perhaps that they would grow into a great nation and take power from him, began to deprive them of some of their rights and privileges.

“The people for a time submitted, but as his tyranny increased they began to feel greatly depressed, for it looked as if the liberty that they had been enjoying in the new land was going to be taken away from them, and that they were going to be chained like slaves.

“Now the first scene in the flag drill represents liberty—as the Goddess of course—lamenting that if she can live only at the price of slavery, she would rather die. So we see her walking up and down the platform repeating in great agitation the famous words of Patrick Henry, ‘Give me Liberty, or give me death!’

“Just at this moment music is heard, and the Daughters of Liberty enter—”

“The Daughters of Liberty—who are they?”

“Why, don’t you know that when King George tried to impose the Stamp Act on the colonists they rebelled, and there was a great time. Bands of men were organized all over the country, who called themselves the Sons of Liberty, and refused to accept the Stamp Act, and—”

“Oh, yes, I know all that,” cried Nita impatiently, “but what did they have to do with these girls who are to be in the Flag Drill?”

“Just you wait and you’ll see,” replied Nathalie somewhat abashed by this practical question. “Well, these little patriotic bands acted like a whirlwind of fire, spreading patriotism—the determination not to submit to the king’s tyranny—all over the land, so that King George was defeated for a time at least.”

“Oh, yes, I know all about him,” was the reply, “Miss Stitt just doted on history, and she drilled me in American history until I just hated it.”

“In 1776,” continued the Story Lady, “seventeen young girls met in Providence at the house of Deacon Bowen, and formed themselves into one of these Liberty Bands, only you see they were just girls like you and me. They were very industrious and spun all day making homespun clothes, for they had resolved that they would not wear any more clothes that had been manufactured in England.

“It is claimed that the clothes worn by the first president of Brown University in Providence, and the graduating class, too, on Commencement Day were garments made by these girls. These young girls not only vowed that they would not drink tea, because you see, it all had to come from the mother country, but they would have nothing to do with any young men who were not as patriotic as they were, and who were not willing to follow their example. These bands of girls were formed all through the colonies and became known as ‘The Daughters of Liberty.’”

“Oh, now I know, but do hurry and tell me what they did to the Goddess of Liberty!”

“Well, in our Flag Drill music is heard; then the Daughters of Liberty appear on the platform,—there are to be thirteen of them, to represent the thirteen states,—all carrying banners.”

“What kind of banners?” burst from Nathalie’s auditor impatiently.

“All kinds,” was the answer. “You know, the first flag used in this country was the English one, with the red cross of St. George; that was the flag carried by the Mayflower. After a while it was used only for special occasions, for the Red Ensign of Great Britain took its place. But as time wore on, each little State came to have its own flag or banner, so that when the Revolution came these State banners became known as liberty banners.

“Some of them were very quaint and grotesque, with strange emblems and designs—some had rattlesnakes or pine-trees—and queer inscriptions. A flag from South Carolina had a silver crescent on it; another from New York had a beaver; troops from Rhode Island floated a white ensign with a blue anchor; while the New England flag bore a pine tree. But to go back to the Daughters; as they march on the platform they form a half-circle before the Goddess, who has retired to her throne, a chair draped with red. In her hand she carries a green branch,—no, don’t ask me why, for you will know when you hear the girls sing the ‘Liberty Tree.’

“When they finish singing, each girl in turn steps before the Goddess and tells the story of her flag, until a story has been told about each of the thirteen flags. Of course, there were a number of these liberty banners, but we use only thirteen of them.

“There! I said I would not tell you any more today, and I’m not going to. Oh, did I tell you that I told Mrs. Morrow about your mother consenting to let us have your lawn? She is perfectly delighted, and at the next Rally the scribe will write a note to your mother for the Pioneers, thanking her for her offer.”

And then—Nathalie could not remember what started the conversation in this channel—she was telling about her brother Dick and his operation, while Nita listened with big sympathetic eyes, for somehow she was very much interested in this invalid brother of Nathalie’s.

“You see, it is this way,” rattled on Nathalie. “Dick must have the operation as soon as possible—and—as it happens—well, you know Mother’s income is limited since Father died and we have had to retrench a great deal. Then to make matters worse, just at the present time some bonds that Mother owns are not paying any interest and we feel dreadfully about it, all on account of Dick. So we are all trying to be as economical as possible; Dorothy and I have a little bank, and every odd nickel we can scare up we drop it in, and oh! the money your mother is going to give me for talking to you, why, that’s going in the bank, too! Dorothy and I sometimes wish that some magic fairy would come along and turn those stray cents and nickels into gold dollars, but there, I should think your head would ache, my tongue has galloped so hard and fast.” She paused, and with a merry laugh cried, “I should not wonder if after a while your mother paid me not to come and talk to you, for you will get so tired of me.”

“Indeed I won’t!” asserted the princess stoutly as she threw up her arms. There was a mutual hug and then Nathalie was off, for she had to get dinner and it would take her at least ten minutes to walk home.

A week later Nathalie was flying out of the gate of the big gray house with something tightly clasped in her hand. It had been a week of hard work, for O dear, she had grown tired of talking, and then too, she had spent some little time in the library hunting up pioneer women. She had been overjoyed that morning when Mrs. Van Vorst, who had been secretly acquainted with the scheme of telling about these women founders of the nation presented her with a new book from a New York publisher that gave a number of interesting details about these dames of early times. She and Nita had spent the two hours that morning reading about the New Amsterdam vrouws. She laughed slyly as she hurried along to think how adroitly she had managed in such a short time to tell her pupil not only about the Pilgrim and Puritan dames, but other interesting historical events of those early days.

As the girl ran swiftly up on the porch and spied her mother reading a few feet away, she burst out with, “Oh, Mother, what do you think Mrs. Van Vorst gave me for teach—talking, rather, to Nita for the week? And I’m to have the same every week. Oh, Mumsie, just guess!”

Mrs. Page’s eyes smiled into Nathalie’s joyous ones as she said, “I’m not a good guesser, I’m afraid, Daughter, but I’ll venture—five dollars?”

“Five dollars!” repeated the girl disdainfully. “Oh, Mother, guess again, it’s more than that,” she added encouragingly.

“Well, I’ll have to give it up,” replied her mother after a short pause, with a regretful shake of her head. “I told you I was not a good guesser.”

“Ten dollars!” burst from happy Nathalie. “Just think, a dollar an hour, two dollars a day, and ten dollars for the week! And, Mother, it’s all to be put away for Dick!”

The night of the entertainment arrived, and promised to be a howling success, as Grace declared, who, with Nathalie, had been detailed to act as an usher. They had been kept pretty busy seating the guests, who had appeared in multicolored gowns, and gay flowered hats, with here and there a dress coat of masculine gender which gave quite an air of festivity to the occasion.

The program was opened by Lillie Bell. Attired in a very quaint colonial gown, she tripped along the platform, and with well-simulated blushes and much demureness of manner made an old-time curtsy. After being greeted with an ovation from her many friends, she bashfully sidled up to a rather puzzling-looking instrument on the platform, on which many eyes had been focussed ever since the raising of the curtain, and seated herself before it.

Upon this old-time spinet she played such ravishing strains of melody that the hearts of her audience were captivated, and she was encored again and again. Louise Gaynor, a dear little colonial dame, now appeared, and in her tru-al-lee voice—as the girls often called it—sang some old English ballads, “Annie Laurie,” “Robin Adair” and several of similar character, whose celebrity had grown with the years.

The second Stunt was the renowned race for the Forefathers’ Rock, Kitty Corwin as Mary Chilton, and Fred Tyson as the slow-footed John Alden. A spinning contest followed, the fair spinners being colonial dames from Plymouth town, New Amsterdam, Boston, and Jamestown. The fair maiden of Plymouth, Priscilla, spun with such deftness and skill that she not only won the plaudits of those assembled, but the prize. As she gracefully bowed her acknowledgment to her friends’ loud clapping, she backed hastily off the platform. Alas, she backed into John Alden, who at this opportune moment had appeared on the stage, with such terrific force that she almost bowled him over. John, however, to prove that he was not as slow as the name he had gained, adroitly caught the falling maiden in his arms and then led the blushing damsel, Jessie Ford, forward as his captured prize.

Barbara Worth proved quite a heroine in her single-act comedy on Pioneer craft, the plucking of a live goose. Mistress Goose, however, not understanding her part of silent acquiescence, being a twentieth-century goose and not a pioneer one, mutinied, and as Barbara came to the end of the couplet,

“TwiceayeardeplumÉdmaytheybe,
Inspryngentymeandharvesttyme,”

she escaped from her captor’s clutch and with a loud, “Quack! quack!” of disapproval flew across the stage.

Barbara, dumb with fright for fear the goose would fly down among the spectators, gave chase, and then ensued a regular “movie” as amid loud calls urging her on in the race, and protestations voiced by the goose in a clamorous quacking, she chased it about the platform. Just as Barbara was about to capture her prey she tripped on a rug and measured her five feet two on the floor. But Barbara was game, Fred Tyson declared to Nathalie as they watched her, and jumping to her feet she soon captured her featherless fowl, which, after being shown in its deplumed condition, was borne from the scene of its torments by the victor.

The curtain now rose on “The First American Wash Day,” a little playlet representing the women of the Pilgrim colony, with arms bared to the elbows, rubbing and scrubbing in tubs of foamy soap-suds, washing clothes, for the noble sires of our nation.

Nathalie gave a quick start and her eyes leaped wide open as she convulsively clutched Grace by the arm, and then she grew strangely still as she watched the actors on the stage. The scene was a distinctive one, as the children of the Mayflower ran hither and thither gathering boughs, make-believe sweet-smelling juniper, to place under the tripod from which kettles of water were suspended over a small fire that simulated a cheery blaze.

As these pioneer mothers washed, and then wrung out their clothes, slashing them about in true washer woman’s fashion, some one in the rear of the stage recited in a loud, clear voice:

The applause of the spectators testified to the merit of the performance, and as the curtain dropped, Nathalie, whose eyes were ashine with a strange fire, hastened out into the hall. “Oh, it was mean of her! It is the same as stealing, she knew she had no right to use it!” were the thoughts that flashed at white heat through her brain, for the playlet that had just been enacted was the one she had lost in the library!

And the one who had passed it off as her own, the one who had been the head performer, and who had recited the verses, was Edith Whiton!

On rushed Nathalie straight towards the dressing room, determined to tell Edith just what she thought of her, but the sight of a crowd of girls of which Edith was the central figure brought her to a standstill. “Of course, Edith, we all recognized you!” “It was a clever Stunt.” “Well, you have shown you are a Pioneer, all right!” Many similar pÆans of praise came to Nathalie’s ears.

The girl stood still, inwardly raging with indignation, almost ready to cry with the strife between her outraged sense of right, and a commonplace little monitor who whispered, “It would be mean to accuse Edith of a sneaking act in the very midst of her glorification. And then, too,” continued the whisperer, “you are not really sure that Edith has not some excuse to offer; there was no name on your paper.” Nathalie swallowed hard, then her muscles relaxed, and the hard angry gleam disappeared from her eyes. Well, Edith might be mean and small, but she at least would be above her, she would say nothing!

With a certain pride that she had risen above doing what she would undoubtedly have regretted afterwards, Nathalie hurried into the dressing-room. A few minutes later as the curtain rose it displayed in its completed form the second idea that she had spent so much time in planning.

Around the hearthstone in a Dutch kitchen sat a huys-moeder, busily undressing her two little kinderkins while she sang the crooning nursery rhyme:^[1]

Through a window in the back of the cozy kitchen a blanketed squaw was seen dandling her swaddled papoose in her arms, as she peered hungrily in at the glowing fire, and watched the huys-moeder fill the warming pan with coals, thrust it between the sheets of the little trundle-bed, and then give her babies some mulled cider to drink.

The tiny figures in their cosyntjes, or nightcaps with long capes, had just crawled into bed when “tap-toes” sounded, and the honest mynheer and his good vrouw hastened to cover the still glowing embers with ashes for the fire of the morrow. The Dutch curfew had sounded, which meant that all good simple folk must hie to bed.

This fireside scene in old New York won its merited applause, and Nathalie, who had been the Dutch mother, Mrs. Morrow’s kiddies, the kinderkins, and Fred Tyson, the mynheer, were called before the curtain to receive the plaudits of their friends.

As Nathalie was hurrying from the dressing-room, glad that she was through her long-anticipated Stunt, and doubly glad that it had been a success, her name was called. She turned to see Helen, who, with an anxious face, was peering from the adjoining dressing room.

“Oh, has anything gone wrong?” demanded Nathalie hastening to the door.

“I should say!” exclaimed Helen with woebegone countenance, “I have left my gun at home, and I must have it. Oh, I can’t imagine how I could have been so careless! Can’t you get some one to go and get it for me? Tell them to hurry, for my scene goes on in ten minutes.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” sympathized Nathalie, “tell me where to find it, quick, and I’ll get some one.”

“It is in the hall just behind the rack! Do hurry, Nat, I’m just about wild!”

Nathalie darted away; but alas, she could not find any one who could go at that moment, every one had some important duty to perform just then and there. Even the Scouts, who were always so ready to help the girls, were missing. “Oh, it is too bad!” bemoaned the girl. Presently her eyes lighted and in another instant she had flown up the stairs, seized her long cloak in the dressing-room, and then sped down the steps into the garden, and out into the street.

Ten minutes, that meant she would have to run every step of the way to get that gun there in time. So with the lightness of a bird she darted down one street, up another, and then—her heart gave a great leap as she came to the long, lonely stretch of road skirting the cemetery of the old Presbyterian church. But on she flew, hardly daring to cast her eyes towards the tall tombstones that gleamed at her with ghostly whiteness from the ghoulish shadows cast by the waving branches of the trees above them.

No, she was not afraid of ghosts, but she suddenly remembered a story she had heard as a little child, of a young girl who had been waylaid and killed by a man in a cemetery one dark night. Fiddle! she was not going to be afraid of a mere story, so with a snatch of melody on her lips she kept bravely on and soon left behind her the marble records of the dead. It did not take but a minute to ring the bell, tell Helen’s aunt what she wanted, then grab the gun and start off on her return journey.

Oh, she did hate to have to go by that old graveyard, she would take the other way around; but no, that would take twice the time and she must hurry! So nerving up her courage she ran on with the firm determination to play soldier, and level her musket if any one assailed her.

As she neared the cemetery her breath gave out, and instead of running by this danger post she had to walk every step. Determined not to look in the direction of these ghostly reminders of the past, she pushed resolutely on. She had almost reached the end of the long fence when the sudden snap of a twig, followed by a rustling noise caused her heart to pause in its beating. A scream escaped her quivering lips, for there in the bright radiance that fell like a silver veil over all objects she saw the figure of a man rise from one of the tombstones near the fence and come towards her!

“Fromyourthroneonmyknee,
Thepigsinthebean-patchsee,
Thecowsintheclovermeet,
Thehorsesintheoatfieldeat.
Theducksinthewaterpass
Thecalvesscamperthroughthegrass.
Theylovethebabyonmyknee
Andnonethereareassweetasshe.”