The Girl Scouts at Rocky Ledge Part 14

"I so want her to grow into scouting," continued Mrs. Manton, and at that Nora felt she could make her presence known. But a quick snap of a stick from Betta, as she swished it back of Nora's bush, kept her from stepping out.

"Does she like the water?" asked Wyn, with a suppressed giggle.

"I am afraid she has had little chance to get acquainted with it,"

replied Ted. "Nora has been developed at one angle. This sort of experience would probably give her nervous prostration."

That was the cue. Nora jumped out!

"Child!"

"The very same!" p.r.o.nounced Thistle grandly, waving a dripping arm.

Mrs. Manton was too surprised to do more than look at Nora. Her brown eyes were twinkling and her mouth twitching in a broad grin. Presently she jumped past Betta and threw her arms around Nora.

"You darling baby!" she exclaimed, all unmindful of the water she was blotting up from Nora's new suit. "How ever did you--come here and get--like--this?"

"Chick-chick-chick-Chickadees!" sang out a chorus. "Cluck! Cluck!

Cluck!"

If one could look pretty after a ducking in a strange lake, Nora did.

Her curls liked nothing better, and her cheeks pinked up prettily, while her eyes--they were as blue as the violets that listened in the underbrush.

"You don't mind her initiation, do you, Mrs. Manton?" asked Wyn.

"Why no. In fact, I'm delighted," replied the young woman. "But why the secret? I have been left out in the cold," she said, genially.

"Only candidates are informed," said Wyn, keeping up the joke.

"Was that really it? Was this a private initiation, and am I intruding?"

"All over," sang out Betta. "The bars are down and the guests welcome."

"Betta be goin' up the hill a bit," suggested Thistle. "This is no place for dripping chicks."

"The sun _would_ be helpful," agreed Pell. "I don't mind the water when it's fresh, but I hate to get mildewed."

"Hey!" came a call from somewhere. "Wanta get in again?"

"We certainly do not," yelled back Wyn. "Jimbsy James, you're a fraud.

What ails your yacht, anyway?"

"All right, then," called back Jimmie good naturedly. "I'll be goin'. So long!"

"So long yourself," called back Wyn, "and send your bill to headquarters."

"Were you--in his boat?" asked Ted, a light beginning to break through the girls' perpetual nonsense.

"We were, momentarily," replied Betta. "But we needed exercise so we decided to walk," she finished. Nora saw how friendly the girls all were with Ted, and felt a pang, not of jealousy, but of regret. Why had she never known such companionship?

"I must go back to my trees," said Mrs. Manton, when the girls had found a clear path of sunshine. "I have some important marking to do. Nora, you follow directions and you need not fear earth, sky or water. These little Scouts are impervious to all catastrophes."

And Nora had almost expected to be sent home for a rub down, a hot drink and all the other coddling!

"Oh, I'm all right," she hurried to reply. "I'll be home----"

"When the ceremonies are over," interrupted Thistle. "We are due at the Ledge long ago, and if we don't soon make it I am afraid we will all be kept in tonight."

"In those wet things?" protested Wyn. "Not for me. I'm going back to camp and change. Come along Nora. We have an extra outfit in our box and we'll lend it to you. Thistle is a regular fish, she is never happy when dry skinned."

Mrs. Manton had disappeared in the winding path and Nora was secretly glad of Wyn's invitation. She could not as yet actually enjoy wet clothes. The girls had managed to save their hats and caps, but even these still dripped and could not be comfortably worn to keep off the strong sun's rays that beat down in the clear spots along the lake's edge.

"We'll have some trouble explaining to the general," remarked Thistle as they started back to camp. "And this was the day we were to finish our collection."

"But look, what we did collect," answered Wyn under her breath, referring to Nora. "Did you ever see anyone so pleased as our friend?"

"She looked happy," a.s.sented Thistle. "But say, Scoutie; whatever are we going to tell the girls about the prince?"

"Let's say we drowned him," suggested Wyn, foolishly. "That will give Alma a lovely murder mystery to work upon."

Nora overheard the word "prince" and surmised correctly it was meant for her Fauntleroy. She longed to turn back to the Nest rather than meet the other girl who might recognize her.

"It's so near lunch time----" she began.

"Oh, no girlie," protested Betta. "You are the only specimen we have collected today, and if you don't come back with us we will all get dreadful marks. Come along. Be a sport and help us out."

"Yes, we will be considered life savers, perhaps," added Thistle. "Of course, we won't say we did anything n.o.ble----"

"Nor say we didn't," drawled Wyn.

Thus urged, Nora had no choice, so she set off with her new companions towards Chickadee Camp.

CHAPTER XI

TOO MUCH TEASING

Swept off her foolish feet of fancy and landed safely on the more practical ground of girls' life, Nora presently found herself in the canvas tent, actually donning a Scout uniform.

No ivory dressing comb nor sh.e.l.l-back mirror, instead a wooden box for a dressing table, and a bowl of cool, clear water fresh from the velvet-rimmed pool, and a gla.s.s--the piece that fell from a wagon and was splintered up so no one would touch its "bad luck," so Pell rescued it and painted a four-leaf clover on its jagged edge! That was a Scout mirror.

It was a revelation to the pampered child. And like so many others who are blamed for their circ.u.mstances, Nora was fascinated with the glimpse given of a real world. Here girls lived as human beings privileged to invent their own tools which would be used in modelling the skilled game of a happy life.

"Of course," explained Pell, "we go through quite some formality before we really become Scouts, but necessity knows no law, and this is necessity."

"It's just wonderful," admitted the stranger, all the while fighting down a sense of guilt that she should ever have disliked the Scouts and their standards.