The Girl Scouts at Bellaire Part 1

The Girl Scouts at Bellaire.

by Lilian C. McNamara Garis.

CHAPTER I

JOYS AND JOY RIDING

"Next to a honeymoon I think a vacation out in Bellaire is about the best," decided Grace.

"And, pray, what is your idea of a honeymoon?" inquired Cleo.

"Well, it's something like a trip to Europe in one way, because it's hard to arrange; that is, a real honeymoon is, and it's almost as thrilling because it's so entirely different. Sister Mabel is trunking what she can't get in her hope chest, and she says a wedding is the one unlimited wonder of life."

"But why the trip to Europe?" persisted the logical Cleo.

"Oh, you don't have to be so exact," retorted Grace, unwilling to show defeat. "I was only thinking that when some one goes away--far away, all sorts of nice things are said about them; and when a girl gets married her maw" (and Grace drawled the ma) "says she has been a perfect daughter."

"Oh, I see," Cleo replied, somewhat satisfied at the diagraming, "and our vacation out at Bellaire is to be a cross between a wedding and a trip to Europe. I'll take the wedding wing, please," and she hummed the march that always echoes orange blossoms.

"Wedding ring, you mean. Well, I'll take the port that puts me beyond criticism, not too far away, of course," qualified Grace. "But do you know, Cleo, your aunt is a perfect fairy G.o.dmother to come to the rescue now. Think of early summer in the New Jersey mountains! No end of bunnies and wood nymphs out there!"

"Well, you see, mother and father have to travel this summer, and Aunt Audrey is going to stay home. Here's Madaline. Let's see what she thinks about it all. Maybe she'll add the christening to our wedding and honeymoon," suggested Cleo.

"Oh, girls, you should see the dearest little piccaninny I just saw----"

A gale of laughter interrupted Madaline.

"There!" exclaimed Cleo. "Didn't I tell you she would bring the christening!"

"What's the joke? One black baby is cute and funny, but not bad enough to give you two girls a fit," Madaline remarked rather peevishly.

"Oh, come on, Madie," coaxed Cleo, linking her arm into that of the dimply girl, "we were just waiting for you to decide all the details.

Your dad, and my dad, and Grace's dad may be traveling about all summer, and our mothers are lovely to let us all go off together. We have just been saying this vacation promises to be the biggest event in our lives, next to going on a honeymoon, or having the unlimited joy of the--those who get all sorts of unsolicited compliments," she patched up the "far-away" possibilities. "And when you said 'kinky' kid we thought that supplied the missing link, the christening. But isn't it glorious to go away out to Jersey in a touring car, with trunks strapped on----"

"And our feet on a mountain of boxes," put in Madaline with a rather discounting tone of voice. "Of course, I adore motoring, but I think we should decide on the exact size and number of hat boxes."

"Practical Packie!" declared Cleo, "and that's a good joke, isn't it?

Speaking of packing, I never knew they called Patsies Packies, until Mother told me the other day that's the most common of the little Irish nicknames. Isn't it cute? Packie Mower! I believe we will christen you Madie," suggested Cleo.

"No, please don't. You know I am a little bit truly Irish, and that might sound like a parody."

"I can just see how we will get ready for that vacation if we keep on wandering," Cleo reminded her companions. "Makes me think of the song about the butcher who rambled, and rambled until the butcher cut him down. Oh, no, it was some one else who rambled, because the butcher, of course, did the cutting. They always do. But we do the rambling, and we always do that. Now, let us plan for that tour, and the vacation to follow."

"First, Cleo," said Madaline quite seriously, "let me say, I think your aunt is a dear to take us in for our vacation. Mother may go to the beach later, but I think the country first is just wonderful."

"And we are sure to have a great and glorious adventure," said Grace.

"Three of us couldn't miss finding that."

"Like a wedding!" Cleo teased Grace.

"Oh, you're horrid!" Grace pouted. "I'll withdraw that ill.u.s.tration if it will make peace in the family. But about the hat boxes. I must take my leghorn hat in the car, and in a box."

"And I have my brown poke. I couldn't possibly travel in that," added Cleo, "yet I must take it."

"There's my frilly georgette. It would look like a rag if it were not packed in special tissue paper for traveling," affixed Grace, "but one small trunk certainly won't take in big hats."

"Oh, I'll tell you!" Cleo discovered. "We try our best hats in one box all fitted in together. If they won't go we'll pack them in a big strong wooden box, and express them. I do hate boxes to spoil a nice long ride like that, when we want to snooze off, and feel luxurious."

"And they look so common when they're all strapped around like gypsies moving. As if we couldn't wait for the express," added Madaline.

"There, don't you see how near we are coming to a honeymoon?" said Grace. "I'm sure no hope chest of mine will ever be more important than this vacation trunk. Shall we take our Scout uniforms?"

"Shall we?" echoed Madaline.

"Oh, certainly," replied Cleo. "The mountains are wonderful for hikes."

"But we are going to make it an absolute vacation," Grace reminded the others.

"We will surely want a hike for the fun of it," resumed Cleo, "and I don't believe we could enjoy the mountains, if bush and bramble bite at our regular skirts. The khaki is so strong and durable, it defies even the wild black berries, and you know what pests they are."

"Well, I brought each of us a little note book; daddy gave them to me,"

said Madaline, "and let's sit down, and make out our lists and schedules. Isn't it thrilling? Surely this is as good as a honeymoon, just as Grace says. We might call it a 'Junior Jaunt,' I'm going to put that at the head of my note book," and the dimples dotted in advance the precious page of preparations.

While we leave the chums to their plans for the vacation at Bellaire, which is to be much more than a vacation in its exploits, experiences, and adventures, we may renew our acquaintance with these same girls met in the first volume of the series: "The Girl Scout Pioneers; or, Winning the First B. C." As told in this story it was through the mill town of Pennsylvania, known as Flosstown, because of its noted silk industries, that the True Tred Troop of Girl Scouts found scouting a delightful means of getting in touch with girls in the mills, whose characteristics and peculiar foreign traits stamped them as picturesque, novel and fascinating. Tessie and Dagmar, two girls of the Fluffdown Mills, decide to break away from their surroundings and do actually run away, falling into the "hands of the police," in a most peculiar way.

Dagmar is housed in a novel jail, while Tessie is "at large" still, trying to make her way to the beckoning city, with its alleged thrills and glories. After disastrous experiences Tessie obtains employment in the home of the fairy-like Jacqueline Dougla.s.s, and through the jolly scouting of Cleo, Grace and Madaline (the trio who tied a man to a tree in River Bend Woods) the runaway girls are finally brought together at a Fairy-Fantasy in the wildwoods, all secretly planned by Jacqueline.

The ident.i.ty of the man who was the "victim of scouts" is finally disclosed, and the mystery is eventually unraveled. A hidden deed, worthy of particular merit, was privately marked to the credit of Cleo, who had risked her life to save that of another girl, and, in doing so, had promised herself no one would know of the adventure. But for this she is finally awarded the Bronze Cross, much to her own and her companions' surprise.

The story has a purpose, and to both the American girls and those of foreign extraction it shows the value of such safe and sane agencies as the Girl Scouts, while the book is absorbing in its plot, quite irrespective of the Scout detail.

And now the three girls of True Tred Troop are deciding to shed their drills and meetings, while seeking adventure in the pretty town of Bellaire, nestled against the New Jersey mountains. Madaline had furnished the note books, while she and her companions were furnishing the notes.

"There," decided Cleo, jerking her head to one side in the bird-like way that had earned for her the name of Perky, "if we carry all these plans out we will surely have a wonderfully neat trip. I want it to be neat, and I positively protest against bananas, oranges, or other slushy fruit en route. When we want to eat a la carte we must dismount. Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful if our car should break down, and we would have to finish our journey on muleback!"

"Or take a stage coach!" suggested Grace.

"I prefer an express wagon, it's more roomy," put in Madaline, "and a stage coach in Jersey would be nothing but a plain jitney, full of women, and bundles----"

"And nary a bandit to hold us up, except the charity campaigners demanding their toll," finished Cleo. "Well, I guess we had best stick to the good touring car, and thank our lucky stars dad has business in New York, and momsey wants to do some shopping, that includes everybody and everything. Now there is nothing left but the horrible details, all written down in Madie's nice little books. Thank you, Madie, for the contribution, and now let's adjourn. There is no end of things to attend to. Isn't it just glorious to think of having at least a month in the best part of young summer?"

They all thought it was, and with the decision their actual preparations were begun.

CHAPTER II

BEAUTIFUL BELLAIRE