The Girl Scouts at Sea Crest Part 17

"Know Kitty? Well, I should, seein' as how I unclasped her from her dead mother's arms," replied the seaman, almost reverently.

"Then, Captain," this very gently from Louise, "why don't you do something for the child? She runs wild as an Indian."

"Do something for her," and he dumped out a pipe full of good tobacco.

"Why, what could I do?"

"Does any one take care of her? Has she any friends?" inquired Helen kindly.

"Too many. That's just the trouble," and he filled his pipe with new tobacco. "You know that n.o.body's business is everybody's business, and that's what's the matter with poor little Kitty."

The girls did not quite understand the description, but the captain seemed troubled, so they hesitated about pressing more pointed questions.

"She is not half as wild as she seems," said Julia after a time. "We had quite a jolly little chat with her one day."

"You did now? That's fine!" he answered heartily. "I wish you could see her once in a while. She needs the right sort of friends. What's a girl to do when every other girl in the village shuns her?"

"We would all be very glad to talk to her and make real friends with her," insisted Helen.

"I'm sure you would, for you're girls brought up to be kind and friendly," said Captain Dave. "I've heard how you befriended old Peter."

"Oh, that wasn't anything," Julia interrupted. "We only took him in from the storm."

"Queer thing none of our firemen happened to see him! And old Pete out there fishin'! Why, he was so stunned, Kitty told me next day he couldn't move," said Captain Dave.

"We thought we would have lots wilder experiences down here than just driving nice old men home, Captain," complained Grace.

"Aren't you ever going to let us try your breeches buoy?"

"Try it? What would you do with a breeches buoy?" he asked.

"Have a lovely ride in it, wouldn't we?" said Grace.

"I hope not," replied the captain seriously. "That's not a thing to play with."

"And Kitty is the little girl you told us about? She whom you took from the wreck of the Alameda?" asked Louise.

"Yes, she is Kitty Schulkill, but they've nicknamed her Kitty Scuttle, 'count of the way she scuttles about so. But I thought when she was taken over to the Point she might quiet down some, but Kitty is Kitty just the same," he concluded rather gloomily.

"Has she any relatives?" inquired Julia.

"Claims to be, one woman there, a high falootin dame, claims to be her guardeen," he said, using the quaint old way of p.r.o.nouncing the last word. "But I'm not sure. Don't know as I just like her any too--well."

And again the pipe suffered from suppressed emotion.

They were making some progress--all the girls felt keenly interested, and even a little bit excited.

"Does this woman live with her at the Point?" ventured Grace.

"Oh, to be sure--she runs the Point, from all I hear," he replied. "But as I told you first thing, that Point is al'lus a pesky place and a good place to veer from."

Confronted again with this thread-bare opposition to a visit at the Point, the girls looked discouraged.

"But you would like us to be friendly with Kitty. How can we become acquainted with her if we are not to--go--to her home?" Grace blurted out finally.

The Captain shook his head. "I'll tell you," he began. "This fancy dressed woman, from what I hear from Kitty, is a queer case, and for a short time it seems best to humor her. Let her try it, I says when Kitty told me--but I wouldn't say positive I like the scheme."

"Is that why you don't want us to go over to the island?" asked Louise.

Her voice was gentle and she looked at the old sea captain with an apology in her eyes.

"Now, see here, little girls," he answered; "you have almost thrown old Dave off his course. I don't know enough about the Point to speak of it.

I'm tied here, like the 'Boy on the Burnin' Deck,' and when I do leave quarters it is al'lus on government business. So don't take too seriously what I say, except this--keep off Luna Land, and don't pester little Kitty."

And with that admonition they felt obliged to feign content.

CHAPTER XIV

ABOARD THE BLOWELL

"NOW we know what the fog was for," exclaimed Cleo. "To show us how a good clear day can look, that's why a fog is a fog," she stated emphatically.

The day was perfect, and perhaps more conspicuously so by contrast with the long spell of damp just lifted. Activities that had been suppressed were now springing into life, like emotional mushrooms, and the True Treds were markedly busy, trying to fit all the good times into an over-crowded program.

Cleo and Grace were making a week's schedule. This had been altered so often, Grace proposed following Margaret's plan of "fun-by-the-day."

"No matter how carefully we arrange it," she protested to Cleo on the porch of the Log Cabin, "some of the girls insist on crowding in other things. Now, to-day we were to go canoeing, and here comes Julia, telephoning to every one of us to go sailing in a sail boat."

"I think that's lovely of Julia," said Cleo, "because Grazia dear, we can go canoeing any day, but only sailing when some one asks us. Who did?"

"Julia's cousins from Breakentake sailed down the bay early this morning--it must have been a very early start. They are going to stay over, and Julia says if the wind is right, we may all go out for the afternoon. Of course, it's a lovely prospect, but what's the use of making plans? Why not just grab them?"

Grace had ridden over on her bicycle, and the exercise furnished her a wonderful beautifier--had she real need of the process. Eyes shining, cheeks glowing, with almost dewy softness of color, even Cleo, ordinarily indifferent to temperamental changes, commented on her chum's appearance.

"I do believe, Grace," she remarked, "the dampness is good for the complexion. You're as downy as a peach."

"Dampness is a beautifier. Leonore says so. That's what makes Newport so popular. Ever see the hydrangeas grow there? But Cleo dear, you haven't been forgotten in the fog. You are rather peachy yourself."

"Nay, nay, false friend. Tempt me not--I shall not desert the ranks for movies," and Cleo struck one of her popular att.i.tudes. "But about the sailing ship-ahoy! I'm ready. What time do we embark?"

"Julia will call us all up after lunch when she gets a line on the wind. I believe it has to be in 'on high' to get us up the bay. All right," and Grace mounted her wheel. "We will all be ready, and hereafter little Captain, count me out on the program cards. They do better when left to the inspirational, as our own Captain Clark would say."

To be able to learn, to be elastic to the point of flexibility, is surely the secret of all progress, and these girls of True Tred had little need of such a lesson.

The Blowell stood straining at its cable at Round River dock when the scouts, numbering a troop, scampered aboard. Julia's cousins, Mae and Eugenia Westbrook, prided themselves on their nautical skill, and nothing could possibly be more promising for a day's sport than a sail on the Blowell.

"Scouts! Scouts! Rah, rah, rah!"