DURING the past week Tory and Dorothy had been making happy preparations for the arrival of Mr. Winslow at the evergreen cabin. They had secured the consent of the other girls without difficulty. In the meantime several of the Girl Scouts had been puzzled by the effort to keep the Scout pledge made to one another at their final meeting.

Of necessity, in the village there must be a number of persons who were ill and would like to be cared for, provided the attentions were tactfully offered. How to discover the persons specially in need of sympathy and aid was not so simple an undertaking. Most ill persons had their own families and friends. Outside attention was scarcely necessary.

One afternoon, under the impression that she had not fulfilled her own duty in the matter, Margaret Hale decided that she would make a call upon Edith Linder and ask her advice. Edith lived in a poorer quarter of Westhaven among the foreign element, many of whom worked in the factories. To her own embarrassment, Margaret appreciated that she had never been to call upon Edith before. In the days when Edith had spent the winter at Memory Frean’s cottage she had gone frequently to inquire for her. Indeed, she had been one of her advocates when Tory Drew insisted that Edith was not the type of girl to make a successful eighth member of their Patrol. Later Tory had completely changed her viewpoint. Nevertheless, Margaret realized that since her return to live with her own family, she had relied upon seeing Edith at their regular Scout meetings and had made no effort to see her at her own home.

This had not been deliberate. Margaret was too well-bred herself to consider the social inferiority of a girl whom she liked as a personal friend, and was a member of her Girl Scout Patrol. The truth was that she had not thought of their possessing any special interests in common outside their Scout work until this afternoon. Now it occurred to her that Edith might put her in touch with persons who really were more in need of help than her own acquaintances.

She would stop and ask Louise Miller to accompany her. Rarely did she call upon Louise! They had a special regard for each other, but with her school work, her Scout work, music lessons, reading and the desire to be with her own family whenever it was possible, Margaret could reasonably plead the excuse of not having time for visiting. Moreover, Louise was nearly always with Dorothy McClain when she had the leisure. At present Dorothy and Tory Drew seemed more often in one another’s society, so it occurred to Margaret that Louise might not only be more free, but glad to be reminded of the affection and admiration she felt for her.

It was true that Margaret Hale possessed a deep regard and appreciation of Louise, in spite of the other girl’s clumsiness and lack of social gifts in contrast to her own graceful manner and appearance.

Margaret knew that their circumstances had been altogether different. Her own father was wealthy and prominent and devoted to his family, her mother cultivated and charming. They both had done everything in their power to make their home atmosphere beautiful and serene. Margaret never remembered anything but sympathy and affection and understanding surrounding herself and her two younger sisters. They had everything they could possibly wish, money, position; put into concrete terms, they owned a lovely home, not one but two motor cars, the services of three or four maids, a gardener and a chauffeur.

Yet no one could be less spoiled than Margaret or more unselfish; a part of this was her own nature, another part her mother’s thoughtful training.

Personally Margaret felt humble in the depth of her sincere and beautiful nature. Her possessions she realized were not herself nor due to her own accomplishments. Individually she believed herself less clever and less gifted than most of the girls in her own Patrol.

Louise Miller possessed none of her material and spiritual advantages. She was poor and not congenial with her own family, yet Margaret believed had a stronger nature and rarer talents than she expected to possess.

This afternoon the small space in front of Louise’s home looked especially barren and ugly. Two small boys were fighting. They stopped at Margaret’s approach, more interested in her than in battle.

After ringing the front door bell Margaret thought she heard a querulous voice in the hall, fretfully scolding some one. She could not be sure who it was until Mrs. Miller herself opened the front door, appearing tired and dispirited.

At the sight of the visitor her face brightened. She asked her in the parlor without mentioning her arrival to Louise.

Margaret was annoyed. She had not come to call upon Mrs. Miller and was not interested in what she was saying, although she thought her pretty in a faded fashion.

When Louise’s strong, almost ugly face appeared at the open door, Margaret thought her handsomer than her mother, so important was her undoubted strength of character.

As a matter of principle Mrs. Miller always objected to Louise’s going away from home in search of amusement. This afternoon on Margaret’s account she did not protest seriously. She preferred Margaret to Dorothy McClain as Louise’s friend, for one reason because Louise was not so absorbed in Margaret. Another, because Mr. Hale possessed greater wealth than Dr. McClain.

Slowly Margaret and Louise walked on toward an entirely different quarter of the village. Louise confessed that she had been so busy at home during the past week that she had no time for outside work. The younger children had been suffering from colds and been difficult. She had been trying to keep them amused to spare her mother as much as possible.

Apparently Louise did not consider that she had thus accomplished her Scout duty. Margaret insisted upon it, and tried to induce Louise to appreciate the fact.

By and by the girls talked no more of themselves or of their Scouting in their interest in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Most of the cottages in the factory district were new and clean. Near the large factory buildings the dilapidated tenement houses looked gray and battered.

The girls knew Edith’s street and house number and were glad to discover that her home was one of the new cottages.

The yard was larger and more attractive than Louise’s.

In the small space a garden half of vegetables, half flowers, flourished in the summer time; now with the winter the yard revealed only a few hardy shrubs and several small fruit trees with bare, thin branches.

Edith herself was responsible for the garden. Until her family moved into Westhaven she had lived upon a small farm where her father had not been successful. Edith still believed she preferred the country to the village, except that the village gave her the chance to be a member of the Eagle’s Wing Troop of Girl Scouts.

Instead of going indoors the girls continued their walk. They were frank in explaining to Edith that they wished to investigate the neighborhood and to ask the benefit of her opinion.

Westhaven was only a small village, yet Margaret and Louise were astonished at their ignorance of the factory neighborhood.

In the winter afternoon the smoke of the huge chimneys ascended in long, dark columns; there was little wind blowing, but a sultriness that might mean a storm later on.

Edith had been prompt in her reply to the other girls’ question.

Not far off was a school a dozen yards from one of the largest factories in the village. Among the children there were always some who needed aid.

Now that the girls of her Patrol had learned to understand Edith Linder they had made this discovery: What had appeared to be sullenness and lack of appreciation of friendliness was shyness. She had never known any girls intimately until her arrival in Westhaven. The little farm where she had spent her childhood had been some distance from any other and she some years older than her own brothers and sisters. During the summer in Beechwood Forest the other Girl Scouts had learned that Edith’s gifts were practical. She was strong and capable, although lacking certain refinements she never had the chance to acquire until her contact with her Patrol of Girl Scouts. She learned from them, and equally they would be able to learn from her.

Following Edith’s suggestion, Margaret Hale stopped and called Joan Peters and Martha Greaves, the English Girl Guide, on the telephone.

They would be interested in their expedition. Tory and Dorothy she knew to be busy elsewhere. The fact of Dorothy’s departure to New York she had not heard.

“She and Martha were just starting out for a walk,” Joan reported, “and would be with them in a few moments.”

The little group walked on in a more leisurely fashion, waiting for their companions, whom they were to meet on an appointed corner. It was now about three o’clock in the afternoon of a day that was to be long remembered in Westhaven.

The streets were comparatively empty. At this hour the employees in the factories were particularly absorbed by their work, with lunch over and the afternoon still in its early hours.

The three Girl Scouts were able to walk abreast without troubling any one, moving aside if it became necessary.

Near a shirt factory not far from the corner where the friends had agreed to meet, Edith Linder paused.

“In there my mother and father are at work,” she explained. “I may have to work there some day myself, but I shall never like it. I only care for a farm and outdoor occupations.”

“Well, then, marry a farmer, Edith,” Margaret Hale said laughingly.

“Perhaps I will if I have a chance,” Edith answered.

Louise looked more serious.

“Suppose we live together, Edith! You and I who love the outdoors in such different fashion. Yours is certainly the sensible one. I have such a grubby attitude, wanting only to poke around and study the trees and soil, never to make things grow.

“Why is the smoke coming out of that side wall of the factory? Do you suppose trash is being burned over there?”

Idly Louise spoke, with no special interest in her voice and a little surprised by her own discovery. Ordinarily she was not as observant as she should be.

The other girl’s hand closed on her arm until the tightness of her hold was uncomfortable.

“What is it, Edith?” Margaret Hale asked anxiously. She had not listened to the conversation for the last few seconds.

There was no immediate reply, but the tension in Edith Linder’s face and figure was plain to her companions.

“It is nothing, I suppose, I was a little afraid of a fire,” Edith returned. “I think one often is in a factory neighborhood. I suppose I am more fearful because I have lived in the country.”

Undoubtedly the smoke was increasing, yet neither Louise nor Margaret was alarmed. Gusts of smoke frequently appear in unexpected places to an outsider’s eyes and usually can be traced to a natural source. Inside the factory the occupants must be aware of what was taking place. The wind was now blowing in occasional gusts and probably forcing the smoke in varying directions.

The two girls started to move on past the factory building.

Edith held them back.

“Not for a moment, please, not until I can be sure. Will you wait here? I think I had best go to the front door and inquire what is the matter. You see, I know the manager and it will be all right.”

This time Edith was walking on alone, when Louise called out sharply:

“Edith, there is a fire! Don’t go nearer.”

That instant a flame had leaped upward, showing scarlet against the window.

Margaret and Louise heard a curious commingling of sounds they were never to forget. Edith had broken away and was running with outstretched arms and lowered head toward the narrow door opening into the factory office.

Came the noise of an explosion, then muffled cries from within the building, growing in volume, and echoed by the inhabitants of the nearby cottages and tenements.

A bell pealed somewhere. Several men rushed by on the way to give the alarm. Too stunned to be of service for the moment, Margaret and Louise crowded against a friendly fence.

Why were the men and women, the girls and boys inside the burning building not already streaming out into the streets?

Out of the downstairs windows a few people were jumping and pushing one another. From the front door a dozen women and men ran and then a little distance off stood still, gazing upward and calling to friends above the uproar.

Edith Linder did not reappear.

A half dozen policemen appeared. Louise and Margaret found themselves thrust backward and not allowed beyond a certain line.

“What is the trouble? Why don’t they clear out?” the girls overheard one man ask the other.

“Something pretty bad is the trouble! The fire has started below and the stairs are choked with smoke. Too many people in there for the size of the building. I have been afraid of something like this.”

Down the street came the welcome noise of the first fire engine.

“Is there anything we can do to be useful, officer?” Margaret Hale asked. She had regained her self-command and walked as close as possible to the dividing line, followed by Louise Miller.

The girls were wearing their Scout uniforms and now appeared calm and efficient.

“Yes, glad to have your help! See you are Scouts! In a few moments the children, whose mothers and fathers are locked in there, will be crowding the streets. Help to keep them back out of the danger line.”

Not a moment too soon had the order been given.

At this instant Margaret reached to clutch a little girl, pushing her way past, wild with terror.

She fought and screamed while Margaret held her fast.

“Be quiet, your mother will be here in a few moments. If you don’t stay with me, she will never know where to find you,” she found herself whispering reassuringly. And something in her voice and manner made the child obey.

The following moment she opened the gate of the fence against which she and Louise had sheltered themselves and drew the little girl inside.

It chanced that in this particular place an old building, erected many years ago and now used for storage, stood back from the sidewalk with a yard protected by a picket fence.

The yard could be made a place of refuge for the children who would try to press inside the fire lines. Margaret knew she must find some one to assist her. She turned to look for Louise Miller and discovered that Louise had a small boy by the shoulders and was pushing him before her into the same retreat.

No great length of time could have passed when Margaret Hale and Louise were being assisted by a dozen members of the Eagle’s Wing Troop. Afterwards the two girls remembered they had felt no surprise. The news of the burning of the factory had spread through the village and naturally the girls had come to be of service.This was their first important test. Never before had they been able to assume any public responsibility in the village! Were they making good in the same fashion that the Boy Scouts had upon many occasions?

The small yard became more and more crowded with frightened, crying children. Occasionally a policeman thrust a lost child into the midst of the others and went on his way. The factory was not yet emptied of its workers. Numbers of excited men and women went past; a few tried to linger and push their way in among the children in search of their own, but were forced on.

By this time a high wind was blowing and the flames from the burning frame building crackled and roared, throwing forth long pennants of flame, as if a flag whipped in the wind were then drawn back.

Margaret Hale knew she must have overheard the explanation, that a door leading to the flight of stairs on the top floor had been locked. A hundred men and women were trapped; with the lower-floors in flames, they were unable to escape.

The firemen were ascending ladders and drawing them forth one by one.

With so much to absorb energy and attention, Margaret and Louise Miller never lost the memory of Edith Linder’s sudden disappearance inside the factory door. Perhaps she had been able to give the alarm or assist in the rescue. She was extraordinarily brave. The other Girl Scouts had guessed this trait of character on several unimportant occasions during their summer together in Beechwood Forest. She could not have observed the little group of her companions when she came past, as she must have left the building some time before. One of the side walls had fallen in and the fire was diminishing.

The police were urging people to return to their homes. The worst was now over, but a space must be kept clear.

Would the Girl Scouts help the children to find their parents?

The officer to whom Margaret had first offered her own and Louise’s aid stopped to lift his hat to her.

“It is not to you only, Miss, I am taking off my hat. It is to the whole of you Girl Scouts. Sure and you’ve done yourselves proud, and the village!” he remarked, with a delightful Irish brogue, appearing as self-possessed and good-natured as if he had not passed through the ordeal of the last hour.

It was after dusk when Louise and Margaret made their way again to Edith Linder’s. They were too weary to speak to each other and too overstrained, yet could not go to their homes for the night without news of Edith.

She came out to meet them, and Margaret Hale, usually so self-contained, put her arms about her, dropping her head on her shoulder.

“Edith, I have not had time to confess it even to myself, but I have been so frightened about you! Why were you so reckless? Surely you could do nothing to help!”

Edith made no reply to this question. Later the Girl Scouts were to learn what she had accomplished.