CHAPTER VIII--THE MOTTO, "I CAN"
A few days after the Pilgrim Rally, as Nathalie lay in the hammockdreaming day dreams as she was wont to do, her mother came and seatedherself in a low chair near by.
Nathalie turned, and then with a quick movement sat up as she askedanxiously, "Oh, Mother, has anything happened?"
"I should say 'anything' has happened," ejaculated Dick, who waslounging near, ignoring his mother's gesture to be silent, "for yourmother has been chief cook and bottle-washer all day!"
Nathalie, who had been off on a Pioneer demonstration most of the day,showed her dismay as she exclaimed, "Oh, where is Ophelia?"
Mrs. Page's worry lines deepened as she answered, "Oh, she is ill. Shehas been complaining for some days, and when she begged to be allowed togo home this morning I did not have the heart to refuse her. Poor thing!she looked the embodiment of woe!"
"But isn't she coming back?" inquired alarmed Nathalie.
"Not for several days," was the answer, as Mrs. Page leaned wearily backin her chair.
"But can't we get some one to help us?" demanded her daughterinsistently.
"Dorothy went to the colored settlement, but could not get any one.Colored people don't like to work in warm weather, and I don't blamethem," her mother added in an undertone, "for standing over a fire inthis heat is terrible."
"Oh, what shall we do?" thought Nathalie ruefully, as she saw a pile ofunwashed dishes confronting her. But a cheery "Hello?" caused her tolook up to see her friend, with dust-brush in hand, cleaning the windowshutters of the neighboring house. With gripping force she suddenlyrealized how useful Helen was, and the numerous things she managed to doto help her mother, notwithstanding the many hours she was compelled tospend at the stenography school.
Nathalie twisted about in the hammock; somehow it did not seem ascomfortable as it did before her mother had come. Her sky visions haddeparted, and in their place had come the thought that she ought to helpher mother. Oh, but dish-washing was degrading, such greasy work. Sheglanced down at her slim, white hands as if they would aid her in thisargument with self.
"Oh, why do people have to do the very things they hate?" she questionedrebelliously as she arose from her comfortable position and with along-drawn sigh started to enter the house.
"You have dropped your book!" exclaimed her mother as she stooped andpicked up the Pioneer manual that had fallen from Nathalie's lap andhanded it to her.
"Thank you," returned the girl and then, with a pang of regret as shenoted her mother's weary eyes, she bent and kissed her.
"Oh, I'm so sorry you had to work so hard!" she cried impulsively."Isn't there something I can do to help?" She almost wished her motherwould say no.
"Not now," replied her mother with a brighter expression than she hadworn, "but perhaps you can help me later--when I get dinner."
"All right," returned her daughter with forced cheerfulness. As sheentered the hall her eyes were caught by the word "Pioneer" in big,black letters on the manual. Reminded by the name that flaunted itselfso determinedly before her, she remembered that she was a Pioneer, thatshe had taken vows upon herself, and that in order to keep these vowsshe should do the very things, perhaps, that she hated to do. This newthought jarred her uncomfortably as she hurried up to her room and beganto make herself cool and comfortable after a rather strenuous morningspent in trying her hand at the many new interests that had come to heras a Pioneer.
But somehow she was haunted, as it were, by the thought that she was notmaking a good beginning as a Pioneer; oh, yes, being a Pioneer did notmean all play, or even doing the things that were interesting, or thatone liked to do, those were the Director's words that morning. The moreone gives up or overcomes in order to do and accomplish the demands madeupon her as a Pioneer, the greater the victory. She picked up the manualfrom the bureau and began to turn its leaves aimlessly, and then shehalted, for two very small words held her eyes, "I can!" why, that wasthe Pioneer motto--the one Lillie Bell had mentioned when she told of thepicked chicken. She would read the laws!
"A Girl Pioneer is trustworthy." Oh, Nathalie was sure she was that."Helpful," her conscience pricked sharply. Was she helpful if she didn'ttry and do all she could to help her mother? "O dear," she ruminated, "Iam shying at the first 'overcome.'" She remembered that Mrs. Morrow hadsaid all the disagreeable things that one didn't want to do, but did inthe end, were "overcomes."
"Kind--" she heaved a sigh, well, she was afraid she hadn't been verykind the other day when she had answered Lucille so sharply, but she wastrying, and the hasty retort would slip out; she would have to put abutton on her lips as her mother often told her.
"Reverent," her religion taught her that. "Happy," not always, for howcould one be happy when life had been full of disappointments? Her eyessaddened as she thought of Dick, who was so patiently waiting forsomething to turn up, so that he could have the operation on his knee.Poor fellow! she had felt like crying the other day when she heard himtelling how he had written to a law firm in the city in the hope that hecould get some copying to do so that he could earn some money.
"Happiness does not always mean having what we want; it is beingcontented with what we have," that was another of Mrs. Morrow'sinterpretations of the Pioneer laws. "Cheerful," here Nathalie brokeinto a laugh, quite sure she was always cheerful when she had the thingsshe wanted. "There!" she cried aloud, "I am not going to read any moreof those laws, for if I am to--" she stooped, for the manual had fallento the floor. As she picked it up she again encountered the words, "Ican."
"I can!" she repeated once or twice mechanically. Then her face lighted,as if the meaning of the words had suddenly flashed themselves clear ofthe thoughts that had been revolving in her mind.
"But what can I do?" she continued doubtingly.
"You can wash the dishes for your mother in the morning so that she canread her morning paper," some one seemed to whisper. She started. "Andyou can get up and get breakfast the way Helen does when her mother isnot feeling well," this time the some one spoke very loudly.
"Oh, but I can't cook, nobody would eat my breakfast," she thought,still holding back.
"But if you are a Pioneer you should learn to do these things." Shefrowned as if to brush aside an unpleasant thought.
"Yes, I suppose I can do these things," she reluctantly admitted after amoment's thought. "O dear--I have been lamenting that I had no purpose inlife, that I was just drifting. I cried the other day because Mothersaid my talents were gilt-edged. 'Yes, I Can,'" suddenly broke from her."I'm going to begin right now, too; I'll show Mother that I am not agilt-edge drifter. I'll learn to cook--oh, I'll just make myself do thosehorrible, horrible things--I'll show you, Miss I Can, so there!" Shehastily wiped away the tears that would come, and then, as was her wontafter a mental conflict, she began to sing. A few moments later she wasdown in the kitchen hustling about, seeing what there was for dinner.
A steak, oh, yes, she knew how to broil that--and potatoes--oh, they wereeasy! The next minute she had seated herself before the kitchen table,and as she peeled the potatoes she sang with unwonted animation:
"We stick to work until it's done We're Pioneers, Girl Pioneers. We never from our duty run, We're Pioneers, Girl Pioneers. We learn to cook, to sew, to mend To sweep, to dust, to clean, to tend, And always willing hands to lend."
As she paused to think how she could manage the next vegetable, Mrs.Page entered, showing amazement as she saw what her daughter was doing,for full well she knew that Nathalie disliked anything in the way ofhousework.
"Why, Nathalie!" she exclaimed, "you need not do that. I will getdinner; there is not so much to do, for Felia made some pies yesterday,and with a steak, thank goodness! there will not be much to cook."
"Now, see here, Mumsie," cried the new housewife, flourishing her knifemenacingly at her mother, "I am chief of this ranch. You have lamentedthat I was just a gilt-edged doll, now I'm going to show you I'm not.I'm a Pioneer, and I'm going to learn every
thing useful. Now be off!" Asher mother protested there ensued a little wrestling-match in which thegirl came off victor, and Mrs. Page, subdued into meekness, retired tothe veranda, somewhat relieved to think she could rest awhile.
As Nathalie snuggled down to sleep that night--she was so tired she couldhardly keep her eyes open--she felt supremely happy, for she had cookeddinner all by herself. To be sure Dick had growled and claimed the steakwas burnt, and Lucille had volunteered the information that Felia nevermashed her potatoes that way, but it made no difference to the happyBlue Robin--as Dick had called her--for she was pleased to think that foronce in her life she had helped. Of course, Mother had laughed at herblunders, but it was in the old happy way that she used to do when Papahad been with them.
Next morning Nathalie awoke with a start, she smiled drowsily at somepassing remembrance of the day before, and then turned over for a beautynap. Suddenly she sat up with eyes keen and alert; if she was to be maidof all work that day she must get at her job. In fifteen minutes she wascreeping stealthily down the kitchen stairs with her shoes in her hands,so as not to awaken her mother.
Oh! the fire was out; that was a difficulty she had not taken intocalculation. For a moment she was tempted to crawl up those stairs andleave the fire to the next one who discovered it. Oh, but that would notdo at all. She didn't know how to make a fire, but the words "I can,"made her close her mouth determinedly, and in a few moments clouds ofrising smoke attested that she was learning. But alas, the smoke soondrifted into space, and the blaze disappeared in a mass of black paper!
Nathalie's tears came at this; oh, why would not that wood catch fire?Tried to the soul, she went to the window and gazed through a mist oftears at the dew sparkling on bush and grass. A low, sweet whistlingcaused her to look up to see Helen, as fresh as a new-blown rose,throwing open the shutters of her room.
Nathalie pursed up her lips and then broke into a "Tru-al-lee!"
Helen glanced down quickly, her eyes lighted, and then came a quick BobWhite call that sounded much like "More wet! More wet!" In anotherinstant she was down on the porch calling merrily to her friend, "Oh,Nathalie, how are you this morning?"
Nathalie dimpled cheerily. "Oh, fine!" making a dab at her eyes, "but atmy wits' end trying to make a fire. Will you tell me why it will insistupon going out? It is maddening! I have lighted it six times."
"What, you making a fire?" said Helen, and then, "Just wait a moment andI will come over and see what is wrong."
Under Helen's nimble fingers the brown paper was taken out, the fire-potfilled with loosely wrapped newspaper, small sticks laid crisscross, afew larger ones on top, and then a match applied. Like magic the tinyblue flame sputtered, caught hold of an edge of paper, and then in a fewmoments a blazing fire was seething and swirling. Nathalie, in exuberantjoy, seized her friend and the two girls waltzed merrily around thekitchen.
Of course Nathalie knew how to make toast, but when Helen showed her howto hold it over the coals until it was a golden-brown, butter it whilehot, and then cut off the scraggly edges and a rim of crust, sherealized that toast-making was indeed a domestic science. Scrambled eggscame next, simple, but deliciously done, as her friend showed her. Thencame putting the coffee in the percolator with the water heated beneathby the tiny alcohol lamp, thus drawing from the beverage the mostnutritious qualities, Helen declared, without injuring one's digestion.
But the grape-fruit--that was another new thing learned--was prepared theway Helen said a trained nurse had taught her, one time when her motherwas ill. It was cut in half, the pulp dug out with a spoon into a cup orsaucer, and after the pith had been removed, chopped finely, returned toshell, and then sugared and put on the ice. But perhaps the best part ofhelping Mother that morning was when, after striking the Japanese gongeight bells, Nathalie arrayed herself in Felia's freshly laundered capand apron and stationed herself back of her mother's chair to servebreakfast.
How pleased and surprised her mother was! Dick "Blue Robined" her again,while Lucille patronizingly exclaimed, "Oh, Nathalie, you make a swellmaid--and how smart you are getting!"
Just before dinner, Helen appeared again, and taught her how to makesoup from a few boiled bones and a chunk of meat, a few left-overtomatoes, and a bit of onion and seasoning. She taught her to broil asteak,--this time without a burnt speck--how to make white sauce for someleft-over fish, how to scrape new potatoes economically, and the rightway to cook peas. Then came a delicious dessert of stale pieces of cakeand canned peaches, laid in layers with beaten cream, and topped offwith little white pigs, as Nathalie called the tiny bits of egg frothfloating on its surface. Truly, it was a dinner fit for a king!
After dinner her sensitive soul rebelled at the pile of greasy dishes,but the task grew lighter when Helen showed her how to make the waterhot and soapy, using a lot of dried bits of soap that Nathalie was goingto throw away, by sewing them in cheese-cloth bags. She washed theglasses and silver first, then the china, and then--oh, horrors--the pots!But when the new Pioneer saw how her friend put them on to boil, thusdoing away with so much grease, it was a revelation. And when thedish-towels were washed and hung out in the sun to sweeten, and the sinkwas scrubbed with a brush and a cleansing soap, Nathalie was againforced to admit that she had mastered another household science.
Oh, no, it wasn't all plain sailing--the world isn't run that way--and thenew Pioneer's back, eyes, and feet made themselves forcibly known beforeshe went to bed that night. Many a time she had had to grit her teeth,summon Miss I Can to her side, and with forced determination go on withthe job; but after all, she declared, as she turned out the light, "Ihave helped Mother!" and then sleep claimed the tired girl.
When Saturday morning came, however, and no Felia made her appearanceaccording to promise, Nathalie's face grew somber, and she could nothelp going to the door every few minutes to see if she were not insight, for she had planned to go on a bird-hike that morning with thePioneers to learn bird-calls. As the clock struck nine she dropped herbroom--she was sweeping the kitchen--and rushed to her room. Here she weptcopiously for a while in her clothes closet with her head buried in theskirts of her dresses, so no one could hear, and then she heard hermother calling her.
She dried her eyes guiltily, scrubbed her face to brush away all traceof tears, and then answered blithely, "Here I am, Mumsie, I'm comingright down to finish the kitchen." When she came tearing down the stairsshe found the kitchen swept and garnished, and lo! there stood Motherwith big, surprised eyes pointing to Lucille, who, as she caught sightof her cousin, bobbed her head and dropped a curtsy, crying, "Sure,ma'am, it's a new job I'm afther takin' on meself, but do yez see theloikes of it for the claneness?"
Nathalie gave one bewildered stare, and then a merry peal of laughterbroke from her, seconded with a minor note from her mother, and with abass accompaniment added by Dick, as he entered and sensed thesituation. Yes, Miss I Can must have caught Lucille in her meshes, too,for that young lady, generally so dainty in her labor preferences, hadcondescended to sweep the kitchen.
"Well," she explained apologetically, "I was jealous of the praisebestowed upon Nathalie, and thought I'd show you folks that people cando things even if they are not Blue Robins."
"Oh, Lucille, you aren't a Blue Robin, you're a duck of a dear," bubbledNathalie as she hugged her cousin rapturously. "It was just lovely ofyou. But Mother, did you know what she was doing?"
"No, I did not," rejoined Mrs. Page; "I thought it was you working allby yourself and came in to help, as I knew you wanted to go on the hike.But before you go, dear," she added anxiously, "I want you to go down toFelia's and see how she is. If she is not coming back by Monday you willhave to hunt around for a washerwoman; the clothes can't go anotherweek."
An hour later, Nathalie, delighted to think she could take a day offwith a clear conscience, hurried in the direction of Ophelia's littlegray shanty; but to her surprise, as she came near the door she heard aloud wailing and the confused hum of several voices.
; As she entered the stuffy parlor hung with gay colored prints anddingy-looking chromos, she found Ophelia seated in a rocking chair withher face buried in a gingham apron, wailing and crying hysterically.Pushing her way through the crowd of sympathizing friends, Nathaliegrabbed the arm of a colored woman who stood by Felia's side crying,"Oh, please, won't you tell me what's the matter?"
"Sure, Miss," respectfully answered the woman, wiping a tear from hereye. "It's little Rosy, she's lost--we can't find her--ah, honey, don'ttake on so!" she ended, turning towards the grieving mother and givingher a caressing pat on the shoulder. "Surely some one will find her."
Nathalie now stepped to Felia's side and pulled her gently by thesleeve, determined to get some definite information about black Rosebud,as Dick called the little pickaninny who had often come to the housewith her mother, and who, being a bright child, had become a primefavorite. "Ophelia, please tell me about your trouble!" insisted thegirl. "Is Rosy surely lost?"
"She lost sure nuff, Missy, down at de bottom of de pond," quaveredFelia's mother dismally, an aged negress standing by the side of herdaughter, as she rolled up her eyes until the whites looked like saucerson a shelf. "I'se gwine to tell you de trufe--dat chile is drowned. Oh, Isee her face a-shinin' in de water--"
Her horrible prognostication as to Rosy's woeful fate was terminated byher daughter's renewed wails of anguish, as she again began to rockherself to and fro with redoubled force.
"Oh," thought Nathalie, frowning angrily in the direction of the oldmammy, "I do wish she would stop." Then she cried, "Oh, Felia, don't cryso--I am sure she will be found--perhaps she is at one of the neighbors'houses, you know she is fond of visiting."
There was such sympathetic concern in the girl's voice that Feliadesisted from her lamentations long enough to cry, "Oh, Miss Natty, shedone go and get lost--she ain't nowhere hereabouts!" Then in answer tofurther questioning she said that the child had been seen just beforedark picking posies over in a meadow with several children, but whenbedtime came she could not be found.
"Has any one looked for her?" demanded Nathalie, turning towards thegroup of colored women as poor Felia went back to her apron wailingpitifully, "I'se gwine promise yo', Lord, if yo' bring my baby back,I'll never get mad with her again. I'll promise sure--" but the rest ofFelia's prayer was lost as the women crowded around Nathalie and eagerlyexplained that Dan Washington, Paul Jones, and Abe Smith had searchedthe town for her. They had been up all night, but when morning came hadto return to their jobs, and there was no one looking for her at thattime.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Felia!" sympathized Nathalie again to the weepingmother. Then, after asking if the town authorities had been notified,she decided to hasten home, knowing that she could not get any one topromise to work for her at that time.
"Oh, it is too bad!" she lamented as she hurried down Main Street. "Itdoes seem as if some one ought to be searching for her now, why the poorchild may be injured or something!" Her too vivid imagination picturedher, not down at the bottom of the pond, as mammy had done, but cryingpiteously of fear and hunger in some lonely place. "I suppose the policein this town will take some hours to get on to the job, as Dick says."She suddenly paused and her eyes shone with a bright light. She wrinkledher brow thoughtfully a moment as if going over something in her mind,and then with the glad cry, "Oh, I know we can do it--it will be just thething!" She broke into a run as if her sudden inspiration would escapeher if she did not hurry.
With good speed she soon reached the house, hurriedly told her motherwhat had befallen Rosy and the condition she had found things in at thenegro settlement, and then, telling her she would be back in a fewmoments, she flew post-haste across the road to Mrs. Morrow's house.Here the Pioneers with eager, expectant faces were all talkinganimatedly, their brown uniforms, red ties, and broad-brimmed hatssuggestive of the good time in store for them.
"Oh, here she comes!" sang out Helen, as she spied Nathalie hastening upthe path towards the veranda. "Why, where have you been? We began tothink you were not coming."
"I had to go on an errand for Mother!" Then with glowing eyes she toldthem of the visit to the colored settlement and about the lost Rosy, thegrief of her mother, and how there was no one looking for the child."Oh, girls," she ended in a quiver of excitement, "let's give up thebird-hike for to-day, and see if we cannot find little Rosy!"