Norma: A Flower Scout
Date: 2022-01-03T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Country life -- Juvenile fiction; Girl Scouts -- Juvenile fiction; Gardening -- Juvenile fiction

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Title: Norma: A Flower Scout

Author: Lillian Elizabeth Roy

Release date: January 3, 2022 [eBook #67091]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Original publication: United States: A. L. Burt Company, 1925

Credits: Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT ***

NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT

The hostess would dig up a small plant and place it carefully in the basket.

NORMA:
A FLOWER SCOUT
By LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY
Author of

“Natalie: A Garden Scout,” “Janet: A Stock-Farm

Scout,” “The Blue Bird Series,” “The Five

Little Starrs Series.”

Endorsed by and Published with the Approval of

NATIONAL GIRL SCOUTS
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Printed in U. S. A.

The Girl Scouts
Country Life Series
A SERIES OF STORIES FOR GIRLS
By LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY

NATALIE: A GARDEN SCOUT
JANET: A STOCK-FARM SCOUT
NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT

Copyright, 1925
By A. L. BURT COMPANY
NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT
Made in “U. S. A.”

CONTENTS

I | Norma’s Letter Home.
II | Mrs. Tompkins Coaches Norma.
III | An Automobile Is Donated.
IV | Building Bird Houses.
V | Mignonette and Chrysanthemum.
VI | Flower Days and Legends.
VII | The Rock and Water Garden.
VIII | The Rain Interferes.
IX | Various Undesired Tasks.
X | The Water Garden Completed.
XI | The Joy of Good Construction.
XII | The Pigeon Cote.

NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT

CHAPTER I
NORMA’S LETTER HOME.

“Dear Folks at Home:

“Here I am at Green Hill, just as much at home after a few hours’ time, as if I had been here for years. But, oh, Mother! Such an arrival as we three girls experienced! I wish you could have seen us when we finally reached the farm. How Daddy would have laughed! But you, Muzzer, would have wept at the sight of my shoes, they were so covered with mud. And you would have reminded me that you had just paid fifteen dollars for them, downtown. But it was not my fault—that mud. It was Amity Ketchum’s fault. I’ll tell you about it.

“When Belle Barlow, Frances Lowden and I jumped from the poky local train that stopped at Four Corners on signal only, we looked all around for some sort of a hack to take us and our luggage to Green Hill. We remembered what Mrs. James had told us about the lazy driver who took them to the farm when they arrived, but he was not to be seen when we got there.

“Then we went to the ticket-office to ask the agent about some sort of a conveyance, but the place was closed and not a soul anywhere about the building. We looked at each other and laughed.

“‘There’s but one alternative, girls—walk!’ declared Belle, in her usual calm superior manner.

“The drizzle that was sifting down when we left New York had become a fine rain at Four Corners, making the roads muddy and full of small pools. We had our suitcases and smaller traps to carry, as well as hold up our umbrellas to keep our new straw hats from becoming discouraged and droopy. Can you picture us?

“As Frances remarked after we had hiked for a hundred yards and suddenly caught a squall of wind sweeping over the fields: ‘The luggage acted as ballast and anchorage at the same time, to keep us from flying up in the air with temper.’ Struggling along in spite of handicaps, we finally reached the Post Office store.

“Now what do you think! There sat that lazy Amity Ketchum tilted back in an old wooden chair, his feet crossed on top of a small cylinder stove, discussing present-day politics. If the three of us had not felt so aggrieved, we must have laughed outright at the sight of the solitary hackman in the profession at Four Corners, absolutely regardless of trade, or the difficulties his clients must experience on such a day, with their misplaced confidence in Amity causing them such free exercise as we were having.

“Why will doting parents misname their progeny as this man Amity was named, Mother? He is so far from being amiable that his name should suggest just the opposite of what ‘Amity’ means. We girls learned from the store keeper that Amity Ketchum was the local Jehu, so Belle spoke to him in rather an imperious tone.

“‘Why were you not at the station to meet this train, as we wired you to do?’

“Amity carefully lifted one foot after the other, from the cold stove-top to the floor, and slowly turned around in his chair to stare at us. Then he actually ignored us and replaced his feet on the fireless stove, and tilted back the chair and resumed his discussion where he had abruptly interrupted himself to take a good look at Belle. This made the other country men, who were lounging about the place, grin at us as if we were big sillies. But Belle was furious. I knew Amity was in for it when she said in her most cutting voice:

“‘I believe you are the driver of that sorry-looking freak standing outside that goes by the name of Cherub. Was ever a beast as that, or a man like you, so contrarily named? Why, just look at the poor excuse called Cherub! His coat of fur has not been shorn for countless moons, and the size of his hoofs must have caused the holes in the road which are now filled with water like miniature lakes. Then give a thought to those queer tufts of hair growing from above the hoofs—like the Scotchman’s precious emblem that swings from his belt. And the vehicle! ye gods, what a rare picture for the movie camera! Its wheels running at different angles from each other in the most independent way, and the dashboard that was broken through by the last passenger, several weeks ago, still dangling to trip the Cherub’s heels. Well! Four Corners must sit up, now, and take notice. A group of live young people have come to stay, and sleepers like this driver and his spirited steed, will be left behind unless he churks up a bit.’

“Amity Ketchum had never experienced any controversy with the natives over his indolent habits, as they accepted him and his profession just as he was. But Belle’s denunciation caused his lower jaw to drop and render him speechless, while the farmers who had nothing to do on a rainy day, laughed heartily at Belle’s words.

“We turned to go out, but Frances suddenly had a brilliant idea. ‘People like you seldom appreciate what you have until you lose it. If some other young farmer about here would start a cab line for Four Corners, we would send him all the patronage we will have daily at the farm.’

“But no one rose to this tempting bait, so we poor bedraggled girls had to plod onward to Green Hill, carrying our bags and umbrellas as before, with injured pride weighting us down.

“Well, we finally reached the farm where Mrs. James and Natalie and Janet were eagerly watching for us. They had heard the engine whistle an hour before, and wondered what delayed us so. We described our differences of opinion with the hackman, much to Mrs. James’s amusement, and the girls’ hilarious laughter. But Rachel who stood in the doorway, listening, was furious. She declared that if she only owned an automobile she’d telegraph for her nephew, Sambo, to come right out to Four Corners and earn a decent living by taxi-cabbing in Four Corners. But her suggestion inspired Frances who is writing a letter to her Father about some scheme she has in mind. ‘She won’t tell us a thing about it until she hears,’ she said.

“Now that the unpleasant walk is over and we are comfortable again, we can laugh at the incident. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have missed the fun for anything, as it will prove to be one of the laughable experiences of our summer at Green Hill. There goes the dinner call, folkses—I’ll have to finish this letter later.” * * *

“It is now supper time, dear folks, and I am sitting in my room to add a few lines to this letter. This noon, directly after dinner—every one in the country has dinner at noon and supper at night—so we fell into the same customs at the farm. Right after dinner, Natalie informed us three girls that we were all invited to visit Solomon’s Seal Girl Scouts’ Camp. This is the group of girls I told you about, that Miss Mason organized last year, and now has in camp at the woodland of the farm.

“We had a most interesting visit with the girl scouts. They did so many stunts for us that it would fill a book were I to try and write it all for you now. The object of the meeting was to discuss the plan of having Mrs. James form a second Patrol of Solomon’s Seal scouts. Miss Mason’s scouts form Patrol Number One, and we girls will be Patrol Number Two. Then we can apply at the National Headquarters in New York City for a charter which officially registers us as a Troop.

“It was decided that we girls, being five, and the three girls Natalie and Janet know, and asked to join the Patrol, will comprise the membership of the new Patrol. But we will be Tenderfeet for a month, before we can call ourselves regular scouts.

“This evening, after supper, we sat talking about the work Natalie and Janet are doing on the farm. Natalie started a vegetable garden soon after she arrived at the farm, and now you ought to see those beds! Really, you would be amazed to see how the cuttings and seeds Natalie planted are growing. She says she is going to sell the produce to the scouts at camp, and to Rachel, for the house-table. If there is more than enough to supply these needs, she is going to send it to New York to friends to buy. In this way she expects to earn enough money during the summer to pay for her own board and keep. Then Jimmy (Mrs. James, you know) can save the cost of Nat’s board and deposit it in the bank for her future.

“When Janet found Natalie was working for a living in such a delightful way, she, too, got the idea of starting something to earn her living this summer, and save the board money that her folks send every week to Jimmy, for a future college education. Janet started a stock farm. She bought three darling little pink pigs and some chickens. She expects to sell the eggs the hens lay, and sell the broilers the setting hens will soon hatch out for her. This will bring in ready money every day, and in a short time she will be able to buy a cow, a calf, a lot of ducks, geese and turkeys, and maybe some sheep and everything else that belongs to stock work on a farm.

“You really won’t believe how much money Janet will have by the end of this summer, all cleared out of the stock investment. But she proved it to me by showing me the actual figures on paper. Eggs are so expensive now, and broilers, too, always bring a fancy price in the market. Then, when she sells the milk, butter and cheese from the cow, the squabs from the pigeons, the ducks, geese and turkeys at Thanksgiving time, she will be repaid for her labor during the summer. The three pigs will fatten and grow without any care or cost to Janet, as they just eat whatever is left from the house; but pork brings awfully high prices when sold, so Janet will clear about a hundred and fifty dollars on her three pigs, when she sells them to the butcher. I wish I had been here first, and had had the opportunity to start a stock farm such as Janet has.

“But I suppose I would have made a failure of it, as I love to dream and idealize things. And Janet certainly can’t sit and idealize pigs and cows and such creatures, because I watched her tonight—she almost cried because she forgot to feed the pigs their supper, and they squealed unmercifully for hours until she mixed the corn-meal mush and carried it to them.

“It was suggested by Jimmy that I cultivate flowers in the beds already laid out but, thus far, nothing is planted in them. There are several hardy shrubs and flowers that come up every year which were left here by the former tenant, but they need pruning and cleaning out before they will look tidy and thrifty. Jimmy says she will help me all she can in the flower-gardening, so I have decided to try it, anyway.

“Natalie told me that Mrs. Tompkins, the wife of the man who owns the post office store, offered to give them all the slips and cuttings we needed to plant around the house at Green Hill. I am sending to a large seed store in New York, for a catalogue of their seeds and flowers, and will choose those which will grow quickly, as it is July and several months have been lost before I got here.

“Nat said that Mrs. Tompkins has the most beautiful flower gardens back of the house! I am going there to visit her and see her flowers. Jimmy thinks this work is just suited to my temperament, as I always loved flowers, and feel quite enthusiastic over the prospect of growing them and taking care of them. I couldn’t see where any profit could come to me out of the work of planting and watching over the flowers, but Jimmy says there are as many ways for me to dispose of my flowers for money, as it is possible for Natalie to sell vegetables, or Janet to sell stock.

“Before you see your dreamy Norma again, she will be a professional floriculturist. As a beginning in the business, Mrs. James authorized me to take charge of the landscaping of the grounds about the house. I am also going to have charge of the lawns. To keep the grass cut short and the edges trimmed neatly, and the people from walking across the grass and wearing footpaths over the lawn. I am to be paid for all garden or lawn work, the same as Farmer Ames charges the household for his time. Jimmy also told me that I shall be paid for any work I am asked to do about the place, whether it is helping Natalie weed or plant her vegetable gardens, or doing odd jobs.

“But the flower beds will be all my own to do with as I like, so there will be no pay for planting or raising flowers. It is such fascinating work—this flower seeding and planting, that I count every moment as wasted when I am not doing something to improve the garden or lawns.

“Mrs. James is the heart of everything at Green Hill Farm, from Rachel as house-worker, down to the dog, Grip, who belongs to Sam, the handy man; everything turns to her for advice and help. What would we all do without her?” * * *

“10 P. M.—I was interrupted in my letter just as I finished the last paragraph. The girls called me to hurry downstairs and walk with them to Four Corners. I went, but Mrs. James and I stopped to visit Mrs. Tompkins’s gardens while the other girls went on, with Hester Tompkins, to see Nancy Sherman and Dorothy Ames about forming a scout patrol. I can’t go to sleep without telling you about Mrs. Tompkins’s flowers, so I am sitting up to write, but all the others are fast asleep.

“I never thought the plain old earth could produce such lovely colors and the delicate perfumes Mrs. Tompkins’s flowers have. She has a large area devoted to her flowers, and there I saw almost every kind of plant, blossom, shrub, vine or tree that grows north. She says it is because she loves them so much that they bloom and thrive so splendidly for her.

“I believe that I could love flowers that way, too, and maybe they will bloom and thrive successfully for me, too. I told Mrs. Tompkins that I knew of no pleasanter way to live than to see such lovely rewards as the flowers, for one’s time and patience.

“She looked at me very searchingly, for a minute, and then said: ‘Norma, I think you will be a successful florist if you keep at the work. But you cannot slight such a calling once you undertake to grow the plants.’

“I wish you could see the great basketful of slips, roots and cuttings that I brought home from Mrs. Tompkins’s gardens tonight. I am going to get up at sunrise in the morning and plant them. Jimmy and I were visiting Mrs. Tompkins for almost two hours, yet it seemed like ten minutes.

“Now that this letter is finished, it can be mailed in the morning and I am free to start my garden work. Don’t be alarmed if you do not hear from me again for a long time as I will not have much time to spare once I begin gardening and landscaping the farm. When it begins to look like a real picture garden I want you both to come out and see what I can do. But do write often,

To your loving

Norma.

P. S.—If you possibly can send me my two months’ allowance in advance, I would be very grateful, as I want to buy seeds and bulbs, and lots of things for my work. Please send it at once.

Norma.

CHAPTER II
MRS. TOMPKINS COACHES NORMA.

The foregoing letter was sealed and mailed that forenoon when Farmer Ames drove past on his way to the general store. But there may be some readers who have not met Natalie and her friends at Green Hill Farm, and so, are not aware that Natalie left New York City with Mrs. James, her valuable companion and friend, and Rachel, the old southern cook who had been with the Averills for many years, to live on a farm in Westchester County that had been left the girl by her mother.

The old Colonial house on the farm was large and comfortable, so Natalie’s four school chums had agreed to spend the summer there, and board with Mrs. James. This income would help pay current expenses of housekeeping, and the girls could enjoy the freedom of country life and be happy in each other’s company.

All the amusing incidents that occurred to Natalie when she launched her plan and started a vegetable garden to help defray expenses, and the still more ludicrous experiences Janet had after she began her stock farm, are told in the two preceding volumes of this country life series, namely: “Natalie: A Garden Scout,” and “Janet: A Stock-Farm Scout.”

The same day that Norma’s letter went to her parents, a letter written by Frances Lowden was also mailed at Four Corners. In Frances’s letter she begged her parents to leave the automobile at the farm when they went to Colorado for the summer months. The reason for wanting the car at Green Hill was explained in the other volumes; that Frances proposed running a jitney as her business venture that summer, and thus put Amity Ketchum out of his profession for the time being.

How this venture succeeded and how Frances added to this undertaking the other branches of work that won her the badges in scoutdom, is told in full in her book which follows this one.

The preceding evening, while four of the girls called on Nancy Sherman and Hester Tompkins to make an appointment for the meeting of the two scout patrols, Mrs. James took Norma and introduced her to Mrs. Tompkins, the flower lover.

“I trust we are not disturbing you, Mrs. Tompkins, but I wanted to introduce Norma to you, as I think you two will be very close friends after you get acquainted with each other’s ideals,” said Mrs. James.

“I’m glad you came in, as Hester just went out to visit Nancy Sherman for a little time this evening, and I am quite alone. I was just on the point of going out to my garden and watch the bud on a night-bloomer. I hope it opens tonight.”

“Oh, then, let us go with you, as Norma is going to start the flower gardens at the farm, and will be very grateful to you for any hints or helps you can give her,” explained Mrs. James.

“I’m glad to find someone who is interested in my hobby,” was Mrs. Tompkins’ reply, as she smiled at Norma. “Come right out and let me introduce you to my favorites in the flower beds.”

Norma and Mrs. James followed their hostess out to her large gardens, and Mrs. Tompkins began describing various plants as they passed them.

“You’ll find that most of my flowers in the beds nearest the house are all of the old-fashioned variety, because they give out such sweet perfume. I love to sit by my back window and smell their refreshing odors. It is payment in full for all the time I give to their food and growth.”

The two visitors walked slowly along the neat footpath and stopped frequently to stoop and smell of a bright blossom, or admire a wonderful color of a flower.

“I try to use good judgment in the arrangement of my plants, too, as well as to group the colors so they will blend instead of fight with each other. Sometimes, I have great difficulty in this arrangement, as a flower will open and surprise me with an entirely different color or shade than I expected. Quite often, the bees, or birds, will carry a germ from one flower to another when they visit it to sip the nectar, and this fertilization of the seed, after the flower dies, is made manifest in a totally different color in the next production of the plant.”

“Oh, how interesting! I never knew such things happened in a flower garden,” exclaimed Norma.

Mrs. Tompkins laughed at the girl’s very evident interest. “You will find stranger and more absorbing things happening in a flower garden, than this very common occurrence. Because you see, it really depends upon the breezes, the bees, or the birds—sometimes, on a creeping insect or caterpillar—to carry pollen and the fertilizing germs from one flower to another. And Nature seldom errs in her judgments, either.”

“Mrs. Tompkins,” now asked Mrs. James, “do you know anything of the quality of the soil in the flower beds at Green Hill?”

“I’m afraid I am not well enough acquainted with it to render any verdict on it now. But I could visit you and examine it, so as to give you an intelligent answer on what flowers it will raise. The last tenant of the farm did not waste much time, or money, on the floral side of the grounds. His hobby was vegetable growing and the barn yard, and his wife cared little for gardening, so the beds were generally neglected.

“Fortunately, there is no danger of spoiling soil when it is not planted, and it is a very easy matter to enrich it so that any plant will thrive in it. The only impossible soil is what is known as ‘hard pan,’ but we find little of that around here.”

“I forked over some of the dirt in one of the beds and found it was rather dry and lacking in richness. Now this may be due to a sandy soil, or it may mean the soil is impoverished and needs more vitalizing properties before we plant the flowers,” said Mrs. James.

“If the ground was well manured early this spring or if you use good barn yard manure this fall, the beds will show a fine condition by next spring. I should use about a half-barrel full of manure to a square yard of the soil. But that will not do you any good for immediate planting. I would have to see the soil before I prescribe now for it,” explained Mrs. Tompkins.

“If Janet adds to her poultry business and buys pigeons and other feathered fowl very soon, we can use that manure for the beds. I’ve heard that poultry manure is best for flowers,” ventured Mrs. James.

“I’ll tell you what I do,” returned Mrs. Tompkins. “I believe poultry manure is one of the best to be had for any purpose with plants, as it is rich in nitrogen, easily stored and handled, and does not contain the grain or weed seeds that stall manure has and always reproduces when used in the garden. I remove any droppings from the perches and the floor of the house where the fowl roost; then I sweep the floors of all the coops, and use a fine tooth rake to clean out the poultry yards. These I throw in the box where that particular compost is kept. If I have any waste vegetable matter from the gardens or the kitchen garbage, I mix that with the poultry manure and leave it to decay thoroughly.

“I have learned that such a compost heap, far enough from the house to prevent any disagreeable odors from reaching us, will attract the chickens when they are at large, each day, to exercise. They will scratch in the heap and mix it better than I can. You do not need nearly as much poultry manure as you would of stall manure.”

“What kind of manure can we use now that will not burn the plants Norma may wish to raise?” asked Mrs. James.

“As I said before, I had better test the soil before I commit myself to reply. If the soil is damp, she’d better use some wood ashes from the fire-places, to furnish the potash and improve the condition of the soil. Bone dust makes a good fertilizer that can be used at most times, but it does not provide any humus to the ground. I think I should use a fine bone dust for present needs, but use a coarse powder for spring or fall enriching.”

Norma now interrupted this conversation by exclaiming: “Oh, what a beautiful bed of gladiolis! In New York we would have to pay a dollar for six of those stalks.”

“I’m very fond of my gladiolis, and so are my bees and birds, especially the humming-birds. They hover in and out of the blossoms as long as there is one to hold honey or nectar. My July flowering gladiolis are planted in early spring and produce magnificent spikes of flowers right through to frost time. I plant many of the bulb in late autumn and protect them from the frost with straw sweepings from the stable.”

One corner of the garden was a mass of gorgeous color produced by great peonies. Mrs. James pointed at them and remarked about their size and the sweetness which she could smell as far away as she was.

“I am justly proud of them,” smiled Mrs. Tompkins. “I was careful to plant them where they would be protected from the east wind. They love a deep fertile soil and will thrive well in a sunny sheltered garden. You can grow them from seed, but you will wait a long time before enjoying the flowers. If you transplant a well-rooted plant, you will have flowers the following season.”

“I don’t suppose we can plant any roots so late as this?” queried Norma, anxiously.

“No, it would merely kill the plant and the root would dry up in the ground.”

The iris, the phloxes, the pinks, lavender, portulacae and many other old-fashioned flowers were discussed, and for each one, Mrs. Tompkins had a valuable lesson to give Norma. As they went along the paths, Norma carrying a flat-bottomed basket, the hostess would dig up a small plant which had sprung up from a seed beside the older plant, and place it carefully in the basket. Thus by the time the three had covered the length of the paths in this section of the garden, Norma had almost a full basket of young slips and roots to take home for her own gardens. Then they walked over to a garden well enclosed with hedges, both low and high.

It brought forth a simultaneous exclamation of admiration, as Mrs. James and Norma saw that this large garden contained all kinds of roses, from the single American Beauty standing upright and queenly, to the tiny bush prolific with pink blooms. The hedges, too, were well worth admiring and seeing.

On the side nearest the other flower-beds, the low hedge was comprised of hyssop, rosemary and lavender. On either side were hedges of roses, thickly grown and kept well-trimmed, but back of the riot of color and perfume of the rose garden proper, stood dark green privet and back of that a row of dwarf cedars. This effectually screened the barns, but what really covered the grey, unpainted buildings were the luxuriant vines and creepers which were trained up over the roof, and hung in festoons from gables and dormer windows set in the roof.

Standing, as the visitors now did, beside the low hedge of flowers, and gazing across the roses to the taller hedge of cedar and then up at the tangle of green vines, the effect was lovely. And so thought the woman who had accomplished this effect.

After Norma had inhaled the perfume and sighed in an ecstasy of pleasure at the beautiful roses glowing before her, Mrs. Tompkins retraced her steps toward the house, as the twilight was falling and the dew began to gather on the foliage of the plants.

Norma carried the basket as if it were filled with frail creations of mist, but she asked questions, nevertheless.

“Why do you have table oilcloth spread out over the basket, Mrs. Tompkins?”

“To keep the soil from drying and to keep the roots and plants moist after they are placed in the basket. The oilcloth keeps the air from circulating about the roots and soil.”

“Then why have such a shallow basket. Would not a deep one keep away the air?”

“If we used a deep basket you would have to reach down into it and, perhaps, break a delicate stem, or catch your sleeve, or leaves of other plants, while you are removing a plant or root. By having such a shallow basket, one is not tempted to place other plants with their soil, on top of those in the bottom, as might be the case if one used a deep basket.”

As the three reached the back piazza which was completely hidden under vines, Norma remarked aloud: “It’s a wonder Mrs. Tompkins never went into the florist business, instead of keeping all these wonderful flowers and her valuable knowledge about them, to herself.”

Mrs. Tompkins smiled. “I’ll tell you something that I seldom speak of. I have had many tempting offers of large salaries and easy hours, to take charge of private greenhouses owned by millionaires who like to raise prize flowers; and also from commercial florists to superintend their greenhouses, because I have won quite a reputation for myself through my successful floriculture. But I stayed at home to work with my own garden and with my old-fashioned tools and ways.”

“Oh, Mrs. Tompkins! Didn’t you want fame and riches?” cried Norma, scarcely able to understand why one should refuse such wonderful gifts.

“Well, maybe I am queer, but I love flowers from a different standpoint than these growers of fancy and freakish plants,” explained Mrs. Tompkins. “It would hurt me to see the boss cutting all my young and glorious buds and blossoms to sell to a city market. I would see, in my mind’s eye, all my pets being sold to cold individuals for decorating their homes for parties, or to pin at their waist, without a thought for the sweet life of the flowers. And naturally, I would scold the owner of the greenhouse for such wholesale destruction. Now put me in charge of a rich man’s greenhouses, and tell me to produce a giant rose or chrysanthemum with which to win a prize and a newspaper comment! I couldn’t do it. I love all flowers so that I would fight to protect them. In my own home garden, I am ruler and no one tells me to strive for a prize, or sell my blossoms for money. And my flowers know I love them, so they really race with each other to see which one can offer me the finest blossoms.”

Norma laughed delightedly at this explanation, and Mrs. James nodded her head understandingly, as she murmured: “That is the way I could love the flowers if I allowed myself to specialize with them. And because I think Norma is much the same, I wanted her to try the flower gardening and then come and meet you.”

“Yes, I am that way!” declared Norma. “The other girls always laughed at me when I refused to pin flowers at my girdle, because I said they would droop and die so quickly. That’s why they dubbed me ‘Sentimental Norma.’ But it wasn’t that I hated to wear them, but that I couldn’t bear the thought of how much longer the flowers would have lived and shed their fragrance abroad, had they been able to remain on the plant. Then the bees and birds and all Nature would have benefited more than by cutting the flower to please one person.”

Mrs. Tompkins now learned from Norma’s guileless remark how idealistic and poetical the girl really was. She stepped forward and placed one hand on the tangled waves of hair and said: “I see we are going to be very good friends, Norma.”

Norma smiled up at the plain-faced woman and Mrs. James showed her satisfaction at the way Norma was accepted by their hostess. The other girls who had gone to Nancy Sherman’s had not yet returned to the Tompkins house, so the three flower lovers sat on the narrow front piazza and waited for them.

Twilight had given way to grey evening, and the frogs began croaking, and the little lizards chirping over in the meadow across the road as the three friends sat and talked of various things pertaining to floriculture.

“If you find the soil in any section of your garden of a clay nature, you will need to lighten it. Sand generally needs rich farm yard manure to strengthen it. This must be dug under and well mixed for about two feet in depth. As I said a while back, it is too late in the season to make use of farm yard composts of any kind, unless you use it in the water with which you soak the plants after sundown, at night. I keep a hogshead of water in a back corner of my garden, in which I soak manure from the barn yard and stalls. I add a small quantity of the compost to this water every time I add water in any quantity. This keeps it always at about the same degree of nourishment.”

“We have a few lily-of-the-valley plants along the side of the house where the driveway comes in. But they do not seem to be thriving,” said Mrs. James. “Can you tell me what to give them?”

“That’s because they are in the wrong location; now they are facing the southern sun and are exposed to the rays as well as to all the air that reaches the piazza. You must dig them up this fall, Mrs. James, and place them in a shady northeast bed. Plant them on that northeast side of the house where the stone wall sticks out like a buttress. I never knew why that freak of an out-thrust was there. But now I know why it is there—to protect and shade your lily-of-the-valley plants.”

Norma and Mrs. James smiled at this interpretation, and Mrs. Tompkins continued: “It would be a pity if Norma had to go back to the city before she had had time to plant her bulbs for next year’s flowers. The daffodils, tulips, crocuses, hyacinths and other bulbs, which need fall or early winter planting, and the hardy vines and shrubs which beautify a place so wonderfully, have to be planted in the fall when the sap is all out of the wood.”

“Mrs. Tompkins, do you think I could ever grow such lovely flowers at Green Hill, as you have back there in your gardens?” asked Norma, yearningly.

“Why not? Perhaps better ones; for you have soil, right exposures and finer surroundings than I ever had here at Four Corners. You must understand that plants are living things and they really appreciate their environment as much as we do. But the most important factor with them is the warmth of creative love—not the mortal selfish kind, but the divine eternal unselfish love. That is why you read of a scraggy little plant half-dead in the pot, that began to revive and flourish when cared for by a bed-ridden child whose days were passed in a tenement cellar. That plant needed not the sunshine and air of nature, as much as the beams of love and devotion and sacrifice from a human soul.”

“When you visit us at Green Hill, Mrs. Tompkins, I am going to show you an eye-sore that spreads all the way from the barn yard end of the farm to the road that runs past the northeast corner of the property. Perhaps you can suggest a remedy for that disgrace,” said Mrs. James earnestly.

“There is no ill in Nature. It is what man makes of his opportunity. I know the spot you speak of, and I often wished I had the right to go in there and work my will in that depression.”

“Then it is yours to do as you will with it, only let Norma and me act as your aides in doing it,” laughed Mrs. James.

“If we three consolidated and began alterations on the grounds of Green Hill, few people would recognize the place in a year’s time,” rejoined the hostess, smilingly.

“We’ll do it!” declared Norma eagerly.

“When you remember the rolling, artistic natural grades of the farm, and the sheltered, as well as exposed areas for planting, is it not a wonder the former tenant could not see the beauty in flower-growing?” said Mrs. James musingly.

“Will you come over the first thing tomorrow morning?” asked Norma anxiously.

The ladies laughed and Mrs. Tompkins replied: “I’ll try to drive over when Farmer Ames goes back home.”

The other girls now joined the three people on the piazza and Hester said: “We’re all going to join the scout patrol, Mother, and there will be lots of fun after this, all summer through.”

CHAPTER III
AN AUTOMOBILE IS DONATED.

Norma left the basket of plants in the cool cellar for the night, but she was up in the morning before anyone was astir in the house, in order to get the plants in the ground before the sun rose high. She was busily engaged in digging holes with a kitchen coal-shovel and planting the roots carefully as Mrs. Tompkins had shown her when Mrs. James came out and saw her at work.

“Ha! the early bird catches the flowers!” called Mrs. James, as she ran across the grass and joined Norma at the garden.

“I planted the young sweet williams and the chicken feet, and the pinks, all along that border, you see,” said Norma.

“Very good, but you did not entrench any manure in the soil, did you?”

“No, because I thought we would buy some bone dust as Mrs. Tompkins said, and spread it over the top after the flowers are in the ground.”

Mrs. James advised and suggested, as Norma dug and planted industriously, until she had all of the slips and plants that were given her the evening before, in the ground. Then the two walked along the grass-overgrown road that ran down to the stream. The old rail fence on one side, that separated the house grounds from the pasture lot, was not a beautiful thing to look at. And the strip of weed-grown wild-grass that stretched between the fence and the badly kept road made the spot still more uninteresting.

“Norma, since the first day I moved to the place, I’ve been eager to reclaim this awful strip of land, so I asked Natalie to plant a few rows of corn, or beans, or even potatoes all along here. But she wouldn’t waste time over it, she said. Now let’s you and I beautify it.”

“Nothing I’d like better, Jimmy. What would you suggest?”

“What would you suggest!” countered Mrs. James.

“We could simply overwhelm that old rail fence with creepers. Convolvulas, moon-flowers, clematis, and Virginia creepers, to say nothing of trumpet vines, will glorify the old grey rails. What do you think?”

“Splendid! And they all will grow even though it is July; the trumpet vine and Virginia creeper may object but the others will make a good showing in a few weeks, and before August we will have the old fence hidden under a mass of foliage and flowers.”

“Their roots are not large, either, and they will not absorb the nourishment from the soil which will be needed by the other plants we will plant along there,” added Norma.

“I haven’t any idea of what to plant. The weeds have to all come out first, and then we may find that the soil is so dry and poor that it will need entrenching, as Mrs. Tompkins described, yesterday.”

“I’ve been thinking of it, while I was digging this morning, Jimmy, and I thought a border of squatty old-fashioned plants such as tansy, tarragon, rue and chervil, exactly like Mrs. Tompkins has about that board fence that screens her gardens from the grocery yard, would look fine. Then, between the border and the vines on the fence, we could plant all kinds of geraniums, in red, white or pink. They will grow, too, because they take root and will stand transplanting at any time of the summer season. If we shelter them for the first few days, to protect them from the hot rays of the sun, and keep the roots well watered in early morning and in the evening, they ought to take hold at once.”

“I’m sure they will, Norma, and I can see how pretty the effect of such massed plants will be,” responded Mrs. James. “And way down there, opposite Natalie’s vegetable gardens, we can add some more hollyhocks for next year. Those few now growing there look so forlorn and lonesome, trying to lean against the old fence.”

“We might plant some sun flowers right away—they will grow now, and bloom before September. That will give the lonely hollyhocks a little company, and provide feasts for the birds, too.”

“We’ll try it!” declared Mrs. James, and then just as Rachel’s welcome call for breakfast sounded over the lawn, and the two went towards the house to wash before appearing at the table, Rachel gave a whoop and stood waving her arms, as she gazed across the drying-lawn back of her kitchen.

“Dem fowls ’scaped from the barn yard, Natalie, and is eating yor greens as fas’ as they kin!” was the cook’s warning cry to the girls within the house.

In less than a minute, four girls streamed out of the back door and followed in the wake of the southern mammy, as she hurried down the pathway to the vegetable gardens. Norma and Mrs. James trailed after the four girls, but the trespassing hens and rooster were shooed away from the forbidden ground by the time the last two in the procession arrived on the scene.

“Now Janet, you’ve just got to get some wire and keep those horrid chickens in a yard,” wailed Natalie, when she saw the damage they had done to the tender tops of her greens.

So, soon after the breakfast, Janet started for Four Corners to purchase a roll of chicken wire for the runway. Belle and Frances offered to go with her and help carry the roll back to the house. Norma had too much to do with her flower gardening to think of leaving the work, so she was hard at her self-appointed tasks when the Lowdens drove up in their touring car and stopped in front of the house.

Mrs. James was indoors helping Rachel, when Mr. Lowden came along the side road and stopped back of Norma. The first inkling she had of anyone being near her was, when she heard a man’s amused voice asking “How is your garden growing?”

Then Norma eagerly explained what she was doing, and all that Natalie and Janet had already accomplished. That made her remember something. “Oh, Janet had to go to buy chicken-wire to keep her chickens from gobbling Natalie’s greens, so Frances and Belle went along to help her carry the roll of wire back.”

“Where did they go for it?” asked Mr. Lowden.

“All the way to Four Corners, and a roll of wire ought to be rather heavy before they finish this mile, don’t you think, Mr. Lowden?” suggested Norma.

Frances’ father laughed, and said he would drive down the road and help them with the burden. Then he went out to tell his wife and send her in to the house to visit Mrs. James, while he went for the three girls and the chicken wire.

The object of the Lowdens’s early visit was soon told. And they were fully repaid for their offer to leave the touring car for the girls of Green Hill Farm to use during the summer while the owners were vacationing in the Rockies, by such happy faces and excited declarations of how good the Lowdens were, etcetera.

When it came time for the Lowdens to start for the train that left Four Corners at noon every day, Frances asked who of the girls would like to drive with her to the station. Janet simply had to begin that horrid chicken fence, and Natalie had to mend her broken plants and smooth the scratched-up soil; Belle said someone ought to help poor Janet, so Norma spoke up:

“I’d love to go with you, Frans, if you will leave me at Mrs. Tompkins and call for us on your way back. Jimmy and I invited her to visit us today and advise us with the landscaping about the house.”

“Sure! Jump in and I’ll drop you as we pass the store. You can have Mrs. Tompkins all ready to come back with me when I stop for you,” was Frances’s willing reply.

The trip was soon made, and Norma, with Mrs. Tompkins, were welcomed by Mrs. James who was waiting on the side porch. Frances left the car under the great oak that grew beside the corner of the driveway near the front fence corner, and then ran to the barn yard to see what Janet was doing. But she was soon drafted into service with Belle and the three forgot the three floriculturists at the house, for a time.

Norma and Mrs. James escorted their visitor across the lawns to the garden that had been planted that morning. “Oh, but you should have placed inverted flower-pots over the little plants during the hot sunshine, Norma,” said Mrs. Tompkins anxiously.

“I didn’t forget it, Mrs. Tompkins, but I had none. I hunted down in the cellar, in hopes of finding some old ones, but I didn’t see a one.”

“In that case, you should have made cornucopias of paper—brown paper if you have it, or newspaper if there is no heavier kind on the place. I’ll show you how to do it if you get me the paper,” offered the visitor.

Rachel had several sheets of brown paper in the kitchen which she had folded and saved for a need, and now Norma was handed it, while Rachel felt that this gift privileged her to join the flower growers and listen to their talk. But she soon wearied of it and started for the barn yard to find if the company there was more interesting.

Mrs. Tompkins formed cones of the papers, some larger, some smaller, according to the size of the plant to be covered, and when these cones were placed in an inverted manner over the plants they were secured to the ground by means of sticks or stones placed at the edge of the paper.

The three then walked over to the strip of weeds that grew all along the fence-line, and Norma explained what she had suggested in flowers, for that strip. Mrs. Tompkins exchanged looks with Mrs. James, and said, smilingly: “Our flower scout is improving wonderfully in the few lessons she’s had.”

Shouts and laughter reaching them from the farm yard now attracted the visitor’s attention, and she looked over in that direction. Norma explained what was going on there: “Janet has to fence her chickens in because they scratch up Nat’s garden and eat the tops from her greens.”

Mrs. Tompkins laughed, but she said: “I wouldn’t want a garden of any kind, if I had no living creatures about it to make it companionable. To me, the bees, birds, pigeons and chickens, yes, even cats and dogs, help make my gardens more lovable, for these domestic animals love flowers and sweet-smelling things just the same as we do.”

“I never looked at it in that light,” murmured Norma.

Just then a shout for Mrs. James came ringing across the farm from the direction of the barn yard, so that lady hastily excused herself and ran down the lane to see what was wanted of her. She did not return to Norma or Mrs. Tompkins, so they walked on and talked of their favorite subject—flower culture.

“I have watched many times, and do you know, Norma, not a cat or dog, or other creatures that wandered into my gardens, ever ruined a plant for me! I have seen them scoop out a slight depression in the soft soil to sleep in. But they always curled up in the little hole and never disturbed the roots or vines. Then when they had had their nap they would get up and walk silently away. I generally smoothed out the spot and that was all the trouble it gave me.”

“Mrs. Tompkins, it must be your sublime faith that the creatures won’t injure your flowers, that keeps them from doing any harm,” remarked Norma. “Just like Daniel when he was in the lion’s den, you know. If he had wavered and thought to himself: ‘Oh, I wonder if God really will bother to keep the lions’ jaws closed’ maybe he wouldn’t have come out of that experience quite so remarkably.”

Mrs. Tompkins laughed heartily at the comparison, and added: “I see you know something of the Scriptures, Norma, so I can say, and you will understand, the line that goes thus: ‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’ I trust to my faith in good creatures and hope that they will respond to my loving faith in them, and sure enough! the evidence of such things generally appears to me.”

“Why can’t I encourage the same sort of faith in my ideals for a garden, Mrs. Tompkins? I know a garden of flowers must be good because flowers are beautiful things created by God. So I can hold to my faith until I see the evidence appear, eh?”

Mrs. Tompkins smiled and nodded, then added: “I want to say, that in speaking of entertaining the little feathered angel birds, in my flower garden, I also entertain them in beneficent ways unseen by me. For bees and birds are necessary and valuable for your flowers. The bees have panniers on their legs where they carry the pollen to the hives, and many a tiny bit of pollen falls from these well-packed panniers to fall into the heart of the blossom from which the bee is gathering nectar. In this bit of pollen lies the secret of the fertilization of other flowers.

“Can you picture my flower garden without the darling humming-birds and bees that buzz and sing about it all day long?”

“I wish we could coax all the different birds in the county to live on the farm. I’d love it!” declared Norma fervently.

“You can have them, if you will work to attract them,” was Mrs. Tompkins’s reply.

“Jimmy said that she never saw so many different kinds of wild song birds in any place, as she has seen since coming to Green Hill. She told me that the only regret is that she has not built any bird houses to offer them for homes.”

“Why lose any more time, then? Begin to fix up some bird houses at once, and you will see what a difference they will make about your place.”

“I thought we would have to send to the city and buy the houses,” ventured Norma.

“Goodness, no! You can use empty starch boxes such as Si throws on the woodpile, or cheese boxes, or even soap boxes, if they are not too large and heavy. You can fix partitions inside, and then nail perches on the outside under the entrances, then, last of all, you nail the cover on the box again and paint it. If you want a real fancy house, get some bark from a fallen tree and nail it on the outside with wire brads.”

“I’ll get the girls to help me and we’ll do it at once,” promised Norma eagerly. “You ask your husband to save some of those boxes for us, will you, Mrs. Tompkins?”

“I certainly will! and now that I come to think of it, I saw Si empty another cheese box this morning. That makes two you girls can have, for I saved one a few weeks ago in case any of the neighbors asked me for one to use for the birds.”

“How do you make that kind, Mrs. Tompkins?” asked Norma.

“For wrens you always cut a small hole so the sparrows can’t crawl in and annoy them. A wren is touchy and won’t live in a nest where she is annoyed by her enemy, the sparrow. A bluebird or a martin needs a doorway a little larger than the wren’s. And the robin, or the blue jay, or an oriole, needs the door still larger. A cat bird, and birds of his size, needs the largest holes to their nests, of any of these others.

“So you cut the hole according to the bird you expect to rent your house to. The more modern improvements you offer a tenant the sooner you rent the apartment. Most birds like a cozy home, with enough room to build a good substantial nest therein, but not so large that it will feel like poking in the corners every night to make sure there are no tramps lurking about. The tenants like a safe perch upon which they can rest when they alight before entering their home. And they even like a little promenade deck in front of their house, so the mother can exercise now and then, and still have safety and security from cats, or fighting birds that disagree with the smaller ones. A roof to shed water and shade the doorway is also a boon to the tenant; then give them a fine bird-bath near the house, and feeding grounds throughout the cold weather and you will be amazed at the beautiful song birds you can secure for your houses.”

“Shall we nail the boxes to the tree trunks?” asked Norma.

“Better not, as cats can climb a tree and will frighten the birds even if they do not kill them. I should swing the house by means of a stout wire, from a bough, or nail the house to a strong slat and then nail the slat to the main trunk, or large bough of the tree. If you place a bird house under the eaves of your house, you can use the slat and nail it securely to the ledge of the window, but keep the house out towards the eaves where it will be far enough away from the window to insure privacy to the birds.”

“Dear me, I wish Janet had thought of keeping bees. I will speak to her about it, and if she doesn’t try it, I will do it myself. I want bees, and birds, and butterflies, and everything, to enjoy my flowers as much as I shall myself,” sighed Norma.

Mrs. Tompkins was too wise to suggest that Norma had better try and grow a flower garden before she planned for the friendly visitors to such a garden. But she said, apropos of bees: “I’m looking for a swarm of my bees almost any day, now. If you girls decide to start a bee-hive, just send me word and I’ll keep the new swarm for you.”

“Oh, do! Even if the others won’t, I’m going to have them for my garden flowers,” cried Norma eagerly.

At this moment, Frances called to Mrs. Tompkins: “I’ve got to rush to the store for more wire nails and an extra hammer, for Janet’s work. If you are ready to go home, I’ll drive you back.”

“Oh, must you go so soon?” asked Norma when Mrs. Tompkins nodded her head at Frances.

“Soon! Why, child, I have been here more than an hour.”

“Well, then, I’ll jump in with you and get those boxes for the bird houses,” declared Norma.

So the boxes were found and placed in the automobile while Frances was waiting for the nails and hammer at Four Corners’ general store. When Norma came out of the house, where she had gone at Mrs. Tompkins’s invitation, she carried a bottle of tiny brown seeds and several pasteboard boxes. One small pill box that had held pepsin pellets at one time now had six precious nasturtium seeds in it. Another box held a quantity of morning glory seeds, and still another had sun flower seeds in it. A paper packet held sweet pea seeds and these Norma was told to soak in warm water for quickest results after planting.

Frances was ready to start back to the farm just about the time when Norma came out with the seeds in her hands. As she turned to wave a hand at her generous friend, the latter said: “Remember to soak all the seeds but the nasturtiums. They are better dry, when planted. And plant them in the morning after they have soaked through the night.”

The tonneau was piled high with starch boxes, two round cheese boxes and other small boxes that would make good bird houses, so Norma sat in front beside Frances and chattered of all the birds they would soon have about Green Hill, once the apartments were ready for their occupancy.

When she got home, the boxes were piled beside the side door leading to the cellar, and then Norma carried her seeds indoors to soak, as Mrs. Tompkins had advised her to do. The small pill box containing the six rare nasturtium seeds was left on the living room table while Norma soaked the other seeds in cups filled with warm water. These cups were placed under the steps of the porch to be out of harm’s way.

Norma now picked up the pill box and wondered where to keep it for the night. It might be damp under the porch steps, and the seeds might be spilled if the box was left on the living room table. So she decided to hide it in the pantry closet where the china was kept. She would put it on a shelf that she could easily reach, and shove it against the side wall just inside the door that opened to the dining room. So here the box was left.

Nothing more could be done that evening in the flower gardens, so Norma joined the other girls when they came from the barn yard talking about the fence they had built. As Janet had forgotten the pig’s extra meal of milk that morning, the milk had soured, and Rachel had made sour-milk pancakes of it for supper.

These were a favorite dish with all the girls, and Rachel mixed an extra lot of batter. Smeared thickly with butter and with white clover honey poured over them, they were so delicious that the hungry girls did full justice to them. But Rachel still had so much batter left, after the girls had finished supper, that she baked it into cakes for herself. She, too, was overfond of sour-milk pancakes with pure honey on them.

She ate and ate, until she could hardly breathe, and then she sighed because the last pancake had to be put away on the pantry shelf. She sought for a safe corner in which to hide it from Mrs. James’s searching eye, for fear of being laughed at for saving it for her breakfast.

In pushing the plate in the corner, Rachel found the pill box, and always having enough curiosity to cause her useless trouble, she carried the box to the kitchen window to see what it said on the cover. Then she carried it back and placed it on the shelf.

The supper dishes were washed and put away where they belonged, but Rachel found it hard to finish her tasks, because she was taken with such indigestion pains. She drank a glass of hot water, hoping to relieve her difficulty in breathing. But it got worse. She sat down every few moments until a cramp had passed, and every time she began again to do the dishes, she had to gasp for breath.

Suddenly she remembered the pill box that said: “Pepsin pills for indigestion.”

“Dat means despepsy like what I got so bad,” muttered Rachel, going for the box.

She brought it out to the daylight and laboriously read the directions: “Take two pills, if attack is severe. If not relieved, repeat dose in half hour.”

“Humph! I’se got it so bad, I reckon I’d better take all foh at one time—like it say, repeat dose.” So Rachel took four of the six rare seeds. She replaced the box on the shelf and in a short time the gas disappeared and she felt better. She sat on the stoop for a time to enjoy the cool breezes, and then finding she was feeling as well as ever again, she walked out on the lawn to meet the girls who had spent the evening at Solomon’s Seal Camp.

They told Rachel all about the stories of the stars and the legends of the constellations that the scouts had told them, and so interested in some of these myths was Rachel that she forgot to speak of the pills she had taken from the box in the pantry.

Early before breakfast the next morning, Norma and Mrs. James were planting the seeds which had been soaked through the night. They planted them where the soil was richest, and planned to dig up the tiny shoots when they came up, and transplant them over by the fence which would be all ready for the vines by that time.

“Now I’ll go and get the wonderful nasturtium seeds, Jimmy,” said Norma, when the swollen wet seeds were all planted.

She ran to the pantry and got the box. She ran out again with it in her hand and did not open it until she stopped in front of Mrs. James. Then she carefully lifted the cover from the box to show her companion the six queer shrivelled seeds that would bring forth such beauty. To her amazement she saw but two.

“I know Mrs. Tompkins gave me six!” she exclaimed.

“You didn’t drop any on your way over here, did you?”

“No, I never removed the lid until I got here.”

“That’s very strange! I wonder if there are any field mice in the house. I’ve heard they love nasturtium seeds,” said Mrs. James.

“Jimmy, if a mouse got the seeds, wouldn’t the cover be off, or a hole eaten into the box?”

“Yes, of course it would! And the cover was on when you picked it up?”

“It was on exactly as I left it last night, and just as I showed it to you this minute.”

It was a mystery, but a sad one for Norma as she had been so proud of those six Oriental nasturtium seeds. The main subject of conversation at the breakfast table that morning was the strange disappearance of four seeds from the pill box. Rachel brought in another plate of toast while Norma described minutely the place on the shelf where she had hidden the box the night before.

Rachel thumped the plate on the table and dropped into an empty arm chair. Her eyes bulged and her mouth sagged open in dismay. Finally she gasped in awe-struck tones:

“Mis’ James, what yoh think will happen to me ef I swallowed dem foh pills?”

“What four pills, Rachel?” was the puzzled reply.

“Why dem foh seed pills in dat dyspepsy box. I got such cramps las’ night, I had to take somefin and dat was all I could fin’.”

The girls almost had hysterics from laughing at her confession, and Janet managed to say: “Norma will have to pour water down your throat every day before sun-up, and every evening after sunset, Rachel, to make the vine grow luxuriantly.”

“Janet—yoh don reely mean dat, does yoh?” was Rachel’s dread question.

“Sure, Rachel! You’ll have the finest Oriental vine coming out of your mouth in a few days that Norma ever saw!”

But Mrs. James hushed Janet’s foolish teasing and assured Rachel that she would feel no ill effects at all, from the wrong dose of seeds.

CHAPTER IV
BUILDING BIRD HOUSES.

The day Norma discovered where her four precious seeds had gone was the day Sambo arrived at Green Hill, and just before he made his appearance, the dog, Grip, was found on the high road and brought home to the farm to live. Soon after his introduction to Mrs. James, the dog saw his rightful master coming in at the gate and welcomed him as only a lost dog can welcome a master found.

Norma spent most of her spare time that day in weeding the strip of garden alongside the old rail fence. Sam was ordered to help in this work after dinner, and Mrs. James came out to dig up roots and snags which would not come out by hand-pulling. The entire strip, running from the great oak tree near the front gate, down to the old hollyhocks that grew opposite Natalie’s corn field, was cleared of weeds and the ground was dug up and ready to be well mixed with manure.

As the girls were going in the automobile, the next day, to buy a cow, Sam was told to use the manure left near the vegetable gardens, to spade under in the soil alongside the rail fence. The cow was purchased and Janet also bought a little calf, a deed which she felt was reckless because of her meager finances since she began stock farming. But Susy, the calf, was too cute to leave behind, so she was to be brought the same time the cow was delivered at the farm.

The party got back to the house just before two o’clock, but Rachel had not expected them any sooner, so the dinner was just ready when the car drove in at the gate and stopped by the side porch.

Rachel bustled out of the side door, consumed with curiosity. “Did you-all git a cow?” she asked almost before the car had stopped.

“Not only a fine cow, Rachel, but a darling calf, too!” exclaimed Janet, the pride of proprietorship sounding in her voice.

“I jus’ finished dinneh, so you-all come right in and eat,” said Rachel, anxious over her charges because they had gone long past the usual dining hour with nothing to eat.

While the autoists washed and brushed up before sitting down at the table, Rachel stood talking to Norma about the garden. “Sam done gone and futilised dat soil so fine dat you kin grow any t’ing in it, now. When you done dinneh you just go and see how smood it looks.”

“That’s good, Rachel, because I found some lovely bushes growing down the road a bit that I want to dig up and plant along that fence line. If we begin keeping bees, we will need plenty of blossoms all summer through, and these bushes will provide flowers now, and berries later, for the birds.”

While the girls were getting ready for dinner, the girl scouts from camp could be heard laughing and talking eagerly as they approached the house. In a few moments, not only the camping scouts, but Nancy Sherman, Hester Tompkins and Dorothy Ames, with them, came up the porch steps and greeted the returned tourists.

“We came to see if you found a cow?” was the general question.

Then it became necessary to describe every lap of the journey much to the delighted interest of all the audience. When they heard the corporation cow would arrive Saturday morning, they all cheered lustily, but Mrs. James said seriously:

“You haven’t any habitable shed for the cow, nor for the calf, to go in. If I were you girls I would commence without delay and construct a decent cow-shed for Susy, and partitioning off a stall in the barn as a home for the cow.”

This was decided upon after discussing the pros and cons of a cowshed or a first class barn stall for a cow. The latter choice won because it was much easier to partition off a stall than to build an entirely new shed and fence in a yard.

It seemed that once Janet started adding to the stockyard creatures, she lost all count of money and squandered what allowances might come to her in the next two months, or three. Mr. Ames had offered to trust her for payment, and that was her undoing, for she not only bought the twenty goslings the day she exchanged the old Plymouth Rock hen for the Rhode Island Reds, but she also chose a few guinea hens, five pairs of pigeons, and spoke for half a dozen ducks.

Norma had not had any time to devote to her flower beds that day, because she wished to help build the home for Sue, but when the girls trooped back to the house, Miss Mason saw the heap of boxes lying near the cellar door.

“What are all those for?” asked she, of anyone who would answer.

“Bird houses. Mrs. Tompkins says we ought to make them at once and get them up if we hope to coax any birds to our farm,” explained Norma.

“Good idea! Do any of you girls know how to build one?” asked the Captain.

“I never made one, but Mrs. Tompkins told me just how to do it. She says flowers need birds and bees about to keep them healthy,” returned Norma.

“She’s right, too, because birds are a gardener’s right-hand helper in catching destructive insects on the plants. If Natalie had more birds about the farm, she wouldn’t have any potato bugs on her vines,” remarked Mrs. James.

“Well, I’m going to clean all those beetles off as soon as I get time,” said Natalie, in justification of her procrastination.

“Now that we all whetted an appetite for sawing and hammering, what do you girls say to our working on the bird houses until it is time to go back to camp?” asked Miss Mason.

This suggestion met with approval from all, and soon there was a medley of sounds—laughing, talking, hammering, sawing and scuffling of feet on the stone floor of the cellar, for that is where the bird boxes were being constructed. Mrs. James insisted that the scouts from camp remain to sup with them and finish the work on the bird houses afterward.

Of course, they were pleased at the invitation—even though it was proper to refuse to stay, in a tone that meant they would, if the invitation was repeated. So they all remained to enjoy some of Rachel’s famous supper dishes, and then completed the bird houses that evening before going back to camp.

Miss Mason and Mrs. James superintended the carpentry and kept up a pleasant fire of good suggestions, at the same time.

“I’m delighted that we will have enough bird houses to try to induce some of the lovely birds I have seen about here to come and nest in our trees, but I think we ought to provide a bird bath on the lawn where the newcomers can drink and bathe without going down to the stream. I fear they may be enticed to stay away, if they compare conveniences with our environment and down by the stream,” said Mrs. James.

“It ought to be an easy matter to build a nice concrete bird-bath,” said Miss Mason.

“I’d like to experiment on one, after we finish these houses and get them properly placed,” said Mrs. James.

“Well, I’ll help you make one, if you say so, although I am almost as ignorant of how to mix concrete as this box. Still, we can use our intelligence, you know,” laughed the Captain.

“I know what to do!” exclaimed Norma, now. “I’ll go and ask Mrs. Tompkins in the morning. She’ll know and tell us what to do.”

Mrs. James and the house scouts laughed, and the former said: “Norma runs to her Oracle for everything, now.”

“We might experiment with a feeding station, too, if you want to attract and hold the birds about the house until they get acclimated to their new quarters. Then they will remain late into the fall and return early in the spring,” was Miss Mason’s suggestion.

“I wonder what kind of birds we can coax to our houses?” queried Natalie, boring a hole in one of the boxes with an augur.

“I’ve seen wrens, bluebirds, robins, thrashers, cat birds, orioles and many not so familiar, flying about the farm, so that ought to be a fair idea of the kind we may hope to house very soon,” replied Mrs. James.

“One bird we can depend on coming and trying to crowd out all the others,” giggled Natalie.

“Yes, the English sparrow,” agreed Janet. “I wish we could raise the rent on them, or do some other restrictive act that would warn them from the premises.”

“The only way I know of is to keep the doors of the nests small enough for a wren and too small for a sparrow. All the other birds will fight off the sparrows, but the wren won’t—they just move away,” explained Mrs. James.

“Look at this hole, is it about the right size, Jimmy?” asked Norma as she finished the boring in the wood.

“Speaking of the wren, I want to tell you a little story of one I found nesting under the eaves of my brother’s country house. Its nest was dangerously near the rose trellis where a cat could climb up and get it, but it wanted to be near the people in the house, and that was the only available spot where a nest would perch. So we built a special corner bracket and shelf for it, and when Jenny laid her eggs we very gently and carefully moved the nest to a safe place, before she had really started brooding over them. We knew she would not abandon the eggs because of the moving, but we felt much easier when we realized she was safe.”

“I remember some wrens who always built their nests as close to our back doors as they could get without actually lodging right on the doorstep,” laughed Mrs. James.

“What dear little things they are!” sighed Norma tenderly.

This remark attracted several girls’ attention to Norma and then they stopped their own work to go and see what she was making.

“Well! of all things—just look at Norma’s palace!” exclaimed Janet admiringly.

That brought the other girls around her and she had to explain just what she was doing with the cheese box. “I am following Mrs. Tompkins’s suggestions and plans for my bird house. You see I divided the inside of the box into five flats, and at each apartment I bored a hole. Because they are of different sizes, I hope to have different birds as tenants in it.

“When the partitions were fastened inside, I nailed the cover on the cheese box again. The two large barrel covers that Mrs. Tompkins gave me make the bottom and roof. Because the barrel head is larger than the cheese box, it provides a nice little balcony all around the house. And the other head that is on top for a roof, projects far enough over the cheese box to keep the rain from driving in at the open doors of the apartments.”

“But, Norma, how are you going to keep the water from coming through that flat roof and soaking the birds inside the box?” asked Janet.

“You just wait! I found a fine roof for my house, this afternoon, but I am not ready, yet, to roof the building. I want to nail some brackets on the bottom so the house can be nailed to a pole, then I will roof it and paint it green with white trimmings.”

Accordingly, Norma finished the house and then got out a basket filled with straw. An upright stick was fastened in the center of the top of the house and to this a wire netting was tacked, so that the edges overlapped the eaves of the roof, and the top fitted close to the upright. Upon this wire net Norma wove her thatched roof, which, when finished, looked very attractive and rustic.

“It looks great but it is going to be a dreadful work to fasten it in a tree, because it is so big and bulky,” said Janet.

“I’m not going to place it in a tree. It is going to be mounted on an old clothes pole that Rachel never uses. I’ve chosen the site of the house already,” laughed Norma.

“And you said you were going to paint it?” asked Natalie.

“Yes, I bought a can of green paint and a smaller one of white lead at the store yesterday. When it is on the pole I am going to paint the house and the pole, too.”

Norma then went to inspect the work of her companions. She found they had divided the starch boxes into four rooms, a room for each nest. But each opening was so placed that no bird need meet his neighbor, in coming to or going from his home. Under each door was a perch, or platform, for the birds to alight upon before entering the door of their house. Some of these perches were made by boring a tiny hole under the doorway and sticking a meat skewer firmly in. When the inside work was completed, the cover was shoved onto the starch boxes and nailed fast. A slat was attached to the bottom so the house could be nailed to a tree trunk and yet be out of reach of any prowling cat.

“I’m curious to know who will draw that other cheese box as their lot,” said Belle, as she added the finishing touches to her soap-box apartment house.

“Well, if no one else applies for it, I shall attach it for my own pleasure,” said Mrs. James. “But I warn you girls now—I propose building a modern flat-house with every conceivable convenience in it for my tenants. They will have sleeping porches, hot water day and night, elevator service, telephones, parquet floors—in fact, everything one looks for in a first-class modern apartment. So don’t feel jealous when you find the birds flock to rent my rooms, because you must remember my investment of labor will be twice as heavy as yours, and I deserve having the best tenants apply for my flats.”

The girls giggled at Mrs. James’s explanation, and Janet said: “What will you do if a sparrow or a blue jay applies for rooms?”

“I’ll ask him for references. If he can’t produce high-class references from other landlords, I’ll have none of him.”

The girls laughed at the reply, and Janet retorted: “The day of rent profiteers is past. You’ll be hauled into Court if you ask high rents.”

“Then I’ll fill my flats on a co-operative plan. That is best, anyway, I think. I will provide the house, and the tenants will provide the harmony,” said Mrs. James, smiling at her own foolishness.

“You’re too lenient with your tenants, Jimmy,” remonstrated Norma. “If any applicant asks me what form of rent my co-operative plan demands, I’ll say the tenant has to pay me in helping me keep my plants clear of insects.”

“You two have so much to say I can’t get in a word. Now keep quiet, and let us have a word to say,” begged Frances.

“What do you want to talk about?” laughed Belle.

“Here’s my bird house. Six flats made out of a soap box. Where shall I secure it to a tree?” asked Frances.

“Did you intend the flats for bluebirds or martins? The openings are too large for the wrens,” said the Captain.

“Every one else seemed anxious to house a wren so I thought I would try for another kind of bird. It’s all the same to me, who rents the place, as long as they behave and pay their rent in advance,” explained Frances.

“What are your prices? You haven’t any insects to keep from the plants,” laughed Miss Mason.

“A song to wake me, a song when I have the blues, and a song at eventide,” said Frances.

“You’ll get it, all right. Never fear that your house will be vacant on those terms,” remarked Janet.

“I would like one of those soap box houses to be placed near the end of the farm yard, girls, just where the little brook runs past the old barn. I have a reason for this, which I will tell you of another day. If we had two or three houses in that vicinity it would be better than one,” said Mrs. James.

“I saw a thrasher in a brush heap over by that creek, today, while we were working in the barn yard,” said Janet now.

“Then we ought to place a house for him in that location,” rejoined Mrs. James.

“Isn’t it too late in the season for the birds to build in our houses?” asked Belle. “I thought birds mated and nested in the springtime.”

“They do, but storms, winds and other accidents are always breaking down nests so that the birds have to seek new quarters. These wanderers we are sure to attract to our houses. Besides these, the tree swallows, martins and chickadees are generally on the lookout for better homes than they have built. They will move, at any time, during the summer season.”

Finally the boxes were all turned into bird houses of different styles and workmanship, but all looked substantial and serviceable enough to suit any particular bird house hunter. Some of the boxes were covered with the bark from an old tree trunk; others had copied Norma’s plan of thatching a roof; and some were panelled and balconied, until they looked very elaborate, indeed.

“Well, we can’t do any more tonight, girls. Tomorrow morning, if you’ll come up after breakfast, we will place the bird houses wherever you choose,” said Mrs. James.

So good nights were said and the scouts went down the hill towards camp, while the house girls went slowly upstairs to bed.

CHAPTER V
MIGNONETTE AND CHRYSANTHEMUM.

Norma was out-of-doors before the others, the morning after completing the bird houses and selected suitable spots for the two large houses to be placed. The smaller ones belonged exclusively to the scouts and their locations would have to be decided upon by them.

Sam came from the kitchen door, yawning and stretching as he came. When he found Norma already up and busy, going about the back yard, he hurried over to see if he could help in any way.

“Yes, you can, Sam. I made that lovely bird house last night but I need you to saw off that old clothes pole, square across the top, so we can nail the house on it and brace it firmly with a few wooden supports from underneath. Can you cut it across squarely?”

“Sure, ’cause dat ain’t nuttin’ to do!” declared Sam, going for the hammer and saw.

Norma carried out the short ladder and placed it against the post, and when Sam came with the tools, he climbed up to the second from the top rung and began to look sideways at the top of the pole, while squinting scientifically to measure its diameter.

Norma watched patiently for a few moments, then she said: “Why, Sam! You don’t have to do any measuring or marking to get your right line. Just saw through that cove that runs around the post where the fancy acorn top begins. That’s true enough to guide anyone.”

“Dat’s so, Norma! I didn’t never think of dat way,” admitted Sam, grinning at his lack of judgment.

Norma handed him the saw and Sam began to work it across the post. He had to lift his right arm even with his eyes, to saw in the groove made by the turning mill when the post was made, and this made the work the harder for him.

Norma stood below watching as the saw began to bite into the old wood. Sam sawed and sawed, and was halfway through the pole when Norma went to the other side to see how much more he had to do.

“Oh, Sam! You’re way off the groove on this side of the post!” exclaimed she anxiously.

“It look straight enough from dis side,” argued Sam.

“Get down and look for yourself! Your saw runs up more than an inch on the back of the post.”

So Sam climbed down and joined Norma at the back of the pole. He had left his saw sticking in the cleft so he could better judge where his mistake was being made. He found matters as Norma had said, but he couldn’t see what did it. He scratched his head for an intelligent explanation to shine forth, but none came.

“I tell you what I got to do!” he declared, going over and taking the ladder from that side and moving it to the side where the cleft ran an inch above the groove. “I got’ta saw from dis side, now—see?”

He now began sawing the post from “this side,” as he said, and again he sawed and sawed, with might and main, until his face was streaming and his breath came in short gasps with the effort.

Norma waited and when he was almost halfway through from “this side” she went back to the first side to see if he was almost meeting the first cleft.

“Oh, Sam! Now you’ve gone and sawed an inch above the old line and they’ll never meet!” cried Norma anxiously.

Again Sam got down and walked around to eye his work from Norma’s position, and then he scratched his head again. This time he frowned heavily at the problem to be solved.

“Now, I don’t see how dat saw got so high when I was so careful to keep it going in the groove around the post,” said he.

“Well, I don’t see, either, especially as I asked you to saw it square across, before you started,” complained Norma.

“I know you did, but askin’ ain’t cuttin’, you see.”

“It looks so simple, Sam—just saw along that little gutter made in the pole! That would bring the top off and leave the post nice and flat on top. As it now is, the top won’t come off and no bird house will sit on a slant.”

“It do look simple, Norma, I’ll tell the worl’, but it can’t be so simple as it looks, or I could do it!” declared Sam.

Mrs. James joined them by this time, and wanted to know what was wrong. Why did Sam seem so troubled so early in the day?

The problem was explained but Norma admitted that they found no solution for it. Mrs. James told Sam to get up on the ladder again and show her how he had sawed.

Sam demonstrated his recent method of sawing, and Mrs. James began laughing. Norma frowned at her uncalled-for mirth, and Sam climbed from the ladder and stood gazing at her for an explanation.

“Don’t you see what you have done to cause the saw to run uphill at the back of the post?”

“No, I don’t! I tried hard to cut in the groove.”

“Well, first place, you stood below the line you had to cut through. You had to lift your arm above your shoulder, and that in itself would tend to draw the saw downward in front, because your arm works back and forth and does not keep its same position of height. It generally falls downward as the arm works backward—watch me, and you will see.” Then Mrs. James sawed slowly and showed both Sam and Norma how easy and unconsciously the tendency was to have the arm drop from its level as it worked backward.

“Another thing is, your saw cut in the groove at the front where you faced it, but the tough chestnut wood turned the thin edge of the saw upward because of the slight downward tendency of your arm, as you drew the elbow back and forth. That was enough to start the saw glancing upward, and when you reached the center of the pole, you found you were fully an inch out of the way.

“Then you started to saw on this side of the post, but you made the same mistake as before. Had you stood upon the top rung of the ladder, or used a higher ladder so you could saw the knob of the pole from a stand even with your waist line, you would have found it much easier to cut.”

“Well, now it’s all crooked, what can we do?” asked Norma.

“Sam can bring out the high step-ladder that we used to rescue Natalie from the cherry tree, and stand on that. Then he can stand on a step so he will be above the groove he has to cut. He can start sawing from a third side of the pole, so the other two clefts will not interfere with his straight across cut.”

Sam went for the step-ladder and Mrs. James waited to see that he was properly started on the work this time, then she went into breakfast.

The girls were talking over the council meeting Miss Mason had invited them to attend that morning, and Frances said she would drive to Four Corners, directly after breakfast, to ask the three girls, and bring them back to go with the house scouts.

“At the same time, ask Mrs. Tompkins if she can come, too, as we want her to give us a little talk on flowers, bees and birds,” said Mrs. James.

“Oh, can I go with you, Frans?” asked Norma eagerly when she heard her friend was invited to join the meeting at camp.

“Of course, if you are ready when I am. I don’t want to wait around for nothing, while you plant a few more dry sticks in the garden,” giggled Frances, winking at the other girls.

But Norma was ready before Frances this time, and had time to direct Sam how to nail the cheese box bird house on the post. The top was squared to suit and the house had been brought from the cellar to try on top of the post and see how it looked.

“You can go with Frances, Norma, and we’ll see that the house goes up all right,” promised Mrs. James when she saw the anxiety expressed by Norma.

When they neared Four Corners, Norma said to Frances: “You can drop me at the store so I can see Mrs. Tompkins while you go for Dot Ames and Nancy Sherman. Then you can pick us up on your way back.”

It was not yet nine o’clock and Mrs. Tompkins was in her garden attending to the early duties of a systematic florist, when Norma ran out and joined her. She had no difficulty in winning Mrs. Tompkins’ consent to attend a council meeting and tell the scouts some things about flowers and birds and bees. Then Norma told her about the fine bird house she had made of the cheese box and how Sam tried to square off the old clothes pole.

Mrs. Tompkins laughed at the description Norma gave and then said: “It’s too bad the houses were not up early in the spring. You’d have them full of song birds now. But they’ll be ready for next year, anyway.”

“Will the birds find enough to eat around the house and gardens, without flying too far away for food?” asked Norma anxiously.

“They will if you plant the right kind of growing things. Natalie, for instance, must plant some grain along the fence line on the meadow side. That will not interfere with any flowers you have there.”

“Mrs. James and I were planning about that ugly fence and the strip of garden, just yesterday. We have it all cleared out and manured, ready to use now.”

“What did you plan to use there?” asked Mrs. Tompkins.

“We are going to plant the vines as soon as they come up from the seeds you gave me, all along the fence line. Then I want the old-fashioned border plants all along the edge of the ground where the drive joins it, and in the center of the long bed we expected to plant geraniums. All geraniums—to make it look like something that was meant to be.”

“But you did not plan to plant them all the way from the road to the woodland, did you?” was Mrs. Tompkins’s amazed question.

“Oh, no! only from the street down to the line where the vegetable garden begins. From there on to the stream, we thought we could plant sunflowers, hollyhocks, dahlias and other tall-growing flowers.”

“Well, now listen to what I would do with that strip, if it was mine:

“I’d get Sam to work at the digging, while you girls can help with the packing of the earth about the roots, and the careful lifting and removal of the trees and shrubs growing in your woodland. Then watch while they are being wheeled up to the garden strip where a deep hole has been made ready to receive them—one by one.

“Start with a young mulberry tree, if possible, for that fruit is the most attractive for birds of all kinds. And bees like to hover about mulberry blossoms, too, and get their nectar there. In my opinion, a mulberry tree is a necessity if one wants to keep birds and bees happy.

“Besides the mulberry tree—or three or four of them, if you can find them of a size easy to remove from the woods—take the elderberry bushes, the choke-cherry, dogwood trees, wild black cherry and other kinds that not only blossom profusely but bear fruit that the birds like.

“All these trees and shrubs or bushes can be planted at intervals along that garden strip by the fence. Then, in between those high bushes and trees, you can plant the geraniums. The low border flowers can run all along without a break and the vines at the back where the old fence is, can also cover that, but your gay geraniums will look all the gayer and prettier for having the green bushes and trees break the monotonous streak of color.”

“That’s splendid advice, Mrs. Tompkins, and I only hope we can find such trees and bushes.”

“That is the easiest part of the work, Norma, because the woodland down by the stream, is full of just such berry bushes and fruit trees. That is one reason the woods, there, is so full of wild song birds. And they will move up nearer the house if they find plenty of food and good lodgings.”

“Dear me! I wish to goodness we had been on the farm in time to do all this work before the birds came from the South!” sighed Norma.

“It will be ready for them next year, at least. Even if these bushes and trees die off, you can easily replace them with others in the late fall or early spring. To group them judiciously and know where they belong, is an important work that can be done now while they are in full leaf and will show how they look.”

“It seems a pity to transplant the poor things just to show us how they look, and then have them die,” remarked Norma.

“If the soil about the roots is carefully dug and packed on the outside with straw or strips of burlap to keep it from falling off, there is no reason why the bushes and trees should fade or die. The main thing to do is to keep their native soil about the roots, and to disturb the roots as little as possible. This can be done by digging a wide enough circle about the trunk, and by having a large enough hole where it is to go in. I think it is a waste of money to buy fancy shrubs and decorative bushes, or trees, for the lawn or garden, because one can find any kind one needs right in the woods.”

“The reason I mentioned sun flowers along the fence-line, Mrs. Tompkins, I knew the birds loved to eat their seeds, and they grow rapidly in any soil without any attention, too.”

“Yes, sun flowers are magnets for the birds, but so are bitter sweet and clematis, and you know how lovely they would look on a trellis or growing up the side porch. You can find bitter sweet along the roads in the countryside, and wild clematis, too. Then you can buy a trumpet vine, and honeysuckle and Virginia creepers from a florist and have them well grown by next year. If I were in Janet’s place, I’d hide the ugly old barn and sheds with rows of sun flowers and castor oil bean plants. Then I’d train all sorts of vines up the sides of the buildings until the place was a thing of beauty instead of what it is today.”

“I’ll tell Janet what you said and let her come and take a few lessons from you, as I am doing,” laughed Norma.

“If it’s birds you girls want to coax to live about the house, you can’t have too many fruit or seed-bearing plants around.”

“It’s a pity the geraniums have no sweet perfume because it seems a waste of space to plant them just for their looks,” said Norma, as Mrs. Tompkins went to the mirror to pin on her hat.

“You’ll find anyone who harbors envy is seldom sweet or lovable, and geraniums mean ‘envy’ in the directory of flowers.”

“Really! I never knew that flowers meant anything excepting perfume and beauty,” exclaimed Norma, deeply interested.

“Oh, yes! Every flower has a meaning and many of them have very interesting legends connected with their history.”

“Oh, if you would tell us some of those legends at the scout council today how we would appreciate it!”

“I will, if you wish it. I will not only give the scouts a talk on flowers, but I will add a dessert after the heavy meal, to please the guests who will sit about my table of flowers,” laughed Mrs. Tompkins. “But they must agree not to feel offended if I tell them their flower for their natal day and give its meaning. It may not always please, you know.”

“How did you learn all these things, Mrs. Tompkins?”

Norma’s hostess laughed. “You did not think that I could spend so many years with my flowers without finding out some of the stories that belong to them, did you? One who grows vegetables tries to discover all that can be said about them; and a bird fancier, or one who studies forestry, or bees, or insects, learns their history first; the legends and tales that belong to almost everything on earth, are read or heard, and found interesting to the fancier.”

“If there is a flower for every natal day, tell me what mine is?” said Norma eagerly, mentioning the date of her birth.

“Yours is the mignonette and it means ‘loveliness.’ Not because of the beauty of form or coloring, but because of its character and qualities. It is a constant bloomer and its perfume is so freely and generously sent forth that all may inhale and enjoy.

“In the Orient where this little flower originally came from, it is called ‘resada’ because the Orientals claim that if one stoops to inhale its fragrance as it grows upon its lowly stem it has the power to soothe any pain and drive away most sorrows.

“I never judge loveliness from looks, Norma, but from qualities. I know some folks who are so homely that the first time I met them I was sorry for them. But I soon grew to appreciate the wonderful characteristics which made them quite lovely to me. And I also have met people quite the reverse of this desirable kind.”

“What is your natal flower, Mrs. Tompkins?” questioned Norma.

Mrs. Tompkins glanced at a large garden of healthy green plants, which as yet were merely stems and foliage. Then she said sadly: “Before I lost my boy, I used to take the greatest pleasure and pride in my chrysanthemums, because we worked together and produced some remarkable specimen. Robert and I won several prizes in the New York Flower Show with our unusual chrysanthemums. But now, I just let them grow as I do the rest of the flowers. No one takes the joy and pleasure in my gardens since Robert was killed.”

Norma felt the moisture coming into her eyes for this sad mother, for she had heard from Hester, how her only brother had met his death in France during the first year of America’s war with Germany. So she could say nothing, but she waited patiently.

“I was born in October, the month of the chrysanthemum. And I was named Chrystine, too. I always admired the lovely large Oriental flowers, even before I knew they were my birth flowers. Then, when I succeeded with so many other flowers, I began to try to succeed with the imperial flowers of China. You know, do you not, that the chrysanthemum is a native of China, and not of Japan, as so many people believe?”

“No, I did not know. I, too, thought it was a Japanese native flower,” answered Norma.

“In the year 246 B. C. China was ruled by a very cruel Emperor who feared nothing but death. But he was in such constant dread of the spectre that he ordered his physicians to spare no cost and time or lives to search for the elixir of life which he had been told was kept in a secret place.

“A clever young physician, who bore the Emperor no love, perfected a scheme, and then called at the palace. He told the Emperor that a rare flower grew on an island far out at sea, but no one had ever been able to gather it, as it faded instantly and died, if any hand polluted by any form of sin, touched it or its plant.

“Then the young man said he would suggest that a number of pure young men and as many virgins be found and ordered to accompany him in a boat to sail for this island. There the purest of them all would be made to gather this flower and bring it to the Emperor who would then live forever.

“The physician was fitted out with a vessel and everything needed for a long voyage and the maidens and young men were found to go with him. Then the foolish Emperor sighed and waited eagerly for the flower of life. But nothing was heard of the party for a long time, then when the Emperor was dead, the news reached China that the voyagers reached Japan safely and colonized a state with their pure and healthy young people. This is why the Japanese claim they come of finer stock and more intelligent natures than other ancient races of the world.”

“How interesting it is,” ventured Norma, in a whisper so as not to distract the speaker. “And was that flower the chrysanthemum?”

“Yes, but that is not the legend I meant to tell you when I began. The pink chrysanthemum means ‘Love’; the white one means ‘Truth’; and the yellow one means ‘Life’—and all three of them, Love, Truth and Life, mean Robert to me now, because they stand for the second coming of Christ, and at that resurrection all who have died in the Lord shall live in Him again, also. But to understand why this is so, I must tell you the story of the flower.

“You probably know that the twenty-fifth of December is not really the birthday of Jesus, but that the real date is some time in the latter part of October. The December date was set apart by the Romans at the revision of our present Calendar. So the chrysanthemum was the natal flower of our Lord.

“When the Wise Men sought for the young child, they saw a great golden star shining in the sky, and this they followed until they came to Bethlehem of Judea. It had led them over rugged hills and through shadowy vales, and finally descended before their eyes to rest upon the lintel of the stable where the Babe was born.

“As the Wise Men stooped to enter the door, the starry flower fell into the hand of the first one to pass within. When the wondering man saw that the blossom was of pure gold and gave forth such a marvelous perfume, he knew it to be from heaven. So he gave it into the tiny hand of the Prince of Peace.

“The Child held the beautiful blossom aloft as if it was a sceptre, then slowly the petals unfolded and the heavenly star bowed low before the King of Kings. And to this day you will see the petals of the golden chrysanthemum curl meekly, as they bowed that night before the Saviour.

“But a sigh from the Virgin suddenly wafted the petals away and they found their places in the midnight sky again. There they radiated brightness and glory upon all the world and all who would could follow the pointing of the petals and seek and find the Christ. And so to this day the shining golden petals in the night sky point the way to their Lord and King, Christ Jesus.”

“Oh, what a beautiful story, Mrs. Tompkins! I wish you would tell that legend to the scouts.”

“I couldn’t my dear child. I will tell them others, but not this one, as I feel a reverence for all that belongs to Christ, since Robert rose from our sight. I told you because I feel there is the same affinity between you and me as there was between Robert and me, linked together because of our mutual love for flowers.”

At this moment, the merry shouts of the girls in the car, interrupted further conversation and Mrs. Tompkins started for the door. But Norma caught her hand and whispered: “I’ll not call you Mrs. Tompkins, hereafter—you shall be chrysanthemum to me, because you truly are a shining light in the firmament.”

The woman with the thin refined face, and grey hair held both soft girlish hands in her hardened ones and smiled sadly: “And you shall be Mignon for me, hereafter, for truly you soothe away the pain and will heal my sorrow.”

CHAPTER VI
FLOWER DAYS AND LEGENDS.

Frances soon drove the car up to the side porch where the scouts from the house were waiting for the rest of their patrol to join them, and after welcoming Mrs. Tompkins and the three girls, they all started for Solomon’s Seal Camp. On the way past the strip of ground which Norma had had cleared and manured ready to plant Mrs. James was told what Mrs. Tompkins had suggested about fruit and flower bushes from the woods to provide food for bees and birds.

“That’s a splendid idea, and one that we will carry out without delay, Norma,” replied Mrs. James.

“It will take all of us scouts working with you to complete such a large contract on time,” laughed Janet.

“If the trees are meant for the birds and bees, we will have to bear our share of the burden of moving them from the woods, because we are all partners in the bird and bee business, you know, as well as in Sue’s corporation,” added Natalie.

“I’m sure I have no objection to these offers of help,” retorted Mrs. James.

“Well, then, we’ll mention the contract to Patrol One, as soon as we arrive in camp,” was Belle’s remark. And she did it, too, the moment welcomes were over. The scouts of Patrol One were very glad to accept the contract on shares, and they agreed to start seeking for healthy young trees and bushes without delay.

Then Norma exclaimed: “And what do you think, girls? I told Mrs. Tompkins about the geraniums I wanted to plant all along the fence-bed, and she said that geraniums meant ‘envy.’ Did you ever know that every flower means something?”

The scouts admitted that they did not know it, but they also wanted to know all about the various meanings of well-known flowers. Mrs. James interrupted, however, with the question: “There are many different kinds of geranium, Mrs. Tompkins, so the meaning ‘envy’ cannot apply to them all.”

“No, because we do not classify the flowers correctly. We call several flowers ‘geraniums’ which have no right to the name. In the Far East the geranium is the size of a small tree, but the plants we call by the same name are nothing like that. Then, too, the spiced flower, and the rose-geranium are not really proper names for the plants.

“The tree that really is a geranium in the Far East stood for envy until Mahomet washed his shirt one day and hung it on the limb of the geranium tree to dry. In a marvelously short time the garment was dry, so Mahomet took it from the bush but where the shirt had hung now blossomed forth a brilliant crimson crown of flowers. And from that day, the tree was no longer green with envy of its flowering neighbors, but proud in its own beauty.”

The two Patrols applauded this unexpected story and Miss Mason added: “I see our Welcome Entertainer lost no time in beginning her work. This deserves a badge of honor from us, I say.”

“We agree, but where is the badge?” asked Janet.

“We’ll make one and invite Mrs. Tompkins to be our guest, on the day we present it to her,” returned Miss Mason, smilingly. So the scouts surmised she had a nice little plan in mind with which to thank Mrs. Tompkins.

“I vote that we give Mrs. Tompkins the seat of honor and lose no time in hearing all the valuable things she can tell us,” suggested Mrs. James, waving her girls to the grass to seat themselves.

So the Speaker for the day was conducted to the chair that was the seat of the Captain at other times and the scouts formed a semi-circle about her, with ears and eyes and minds open to hear everything she said.

“I suppose to be a good instructor, I ought to mention a few things about the flowers; but you all may know, or a few of you may not know of them. However, I will only speak of these things in a general way so you will not need to grow impatient with me,” began Mrs. Tompkins.

“First of all, the floriculturist must understand the soil he expects to plant his flowers, or seeds, in. There are many kinds of compost, and some kinds are better than others, for certain flowers or soil. Best of all general flower fertilizers is a well-rotted cow manure, but it must be six months old, at least, before it is mixed with the soil. Fresh well-ground bone meal is best for roses, shrubs, trees and many flowers. Soot taken from our chimneys is splendid for box, privet and other hedges, especially so for the bay trees which are so decorative these days. If you mix soot with sulphur, you can stop mildew which is the bane of many a florist.

“One reason why country women have good success with the flowers growing about the kitchen doorstep is because they generally throw the dish water or Monday’s wash water from the clothes out over the flower beds. Not that the dirty water helps the flower but the amount of potash from the soap did the work of fertilizing.

“Sheep manure is fine, but expensive, for flower beds. Also the sweepings and rakings of the poultry yard—this is as good as any compost I know of. The cleanings of the pig pen also mixes well with the chicken manure, and the combination is excellent.

“One of the main causes of flower sickness and pests, comes from dry atmosphere, dewless nights, dry winds or baking sun rays. These sap the vitality of the plants and check their progress. If you dig up the soil a few inches and mix in it the fresh clipped grass from the lawn or a bit of very old manure you can offset this evil.

“The minute you find mildew on a plant, fight it, or it will spread so rapidly to other plants that you will find it well nigh impossible to kill it. In a very short time, your most beautiful flowers will be nothing but a memory. Powder your diseased plants with soot and sulphur nor care for their looks as long as you save them in the end.

“Roses are our sweetest and also the most troublesome of flowers. One seldom plucks a rose without finding a bug about it somewhere. But all sorts of bugs can be cleaned off now and kept away by sprinkling the rose bushes with a water to which a mixture of milk, kerosene and water has been added. The directions say: Three pints sweet milk, three pints kerosene, two pints water. Then add this as you need to wet the bushes, as follows: one pint of mixture to every two gallons of water. Not only sprinkle all leaves, buds and blossoms, but the ground about the bush, as well. This wash can be applied every ten days to two weeks apart, from May to June.

“The best all-around cure I know of, for removing every sort of insect or worm, are the birds—plenty of wild birds about your place. To encourage these feathered helpers, keep away strange cats, provide plenty of bird houses, give them bathing pools and feeding stations, as well as berry bushes, fruit trees and plants that will provide plenty of seeds for them to harvest. One of the favorite foods of the wild birds are various kinds of growing grain, corn and seed grasses. The latter are very decorative when grown in clumps and large patches, and the grain can be made to add to the beauty of a place if properly grouped.

“There are very few flowers that cannot be planted in the fall and left to come up in the spring. All my bulbs are planted in fall and covered with a straw mixed manure to keep the frost away. Also my hardy plants and shrubs are planted in the fall. If vines and self-growing flowers are seeded in the fall and covered with a light compost, they will come up as soon as the season is conducive. But I seldom set out my tender plants until after Decoration Day. If I need an early start for my flowers, I begin them in the hot-beds, or cold frames.

“I won’t take any more time now, girls, to go into details about plants, because we have all summer to ask and answer questions on any special matter. But I will reply to any query you may wish to ask me now, before I begin the legends,” said Mrs. Tompkins.

The scouts showed no desire to postpone the telling of the stories they wanted to hear, so the guest smiled and began.

“I’ll begin by telling you that Hester’s natal flower is the white rose—her birthday comes on the first of June. The fairy-tale about the first white rose is very pretty.

“One very warm day in the long ago, the Hindu god Vishnu was arguing with Brahma while both of them floated on the water to cool themselves. Brahma had said that the lovely lotus in which he was floating was the fairest flower that ever was seen. Vishnu contradicted his statement, by saying that he knew of a flower far more beautiful.

“Then Brahma said impatiently: ‘I cannot believe what my eyes have ne’er beheld. Where is this rare blossom thou praiseth?’

“Vishnu smiled wisely and replied: ‘The lotus is fair, but this flower that blooms only in my garden of Paradise is incomparable. Nothing hath ever been seen like unto it.’

“Then Brahma became curious to see it with his own eyes, and he said: ‘Go to! If thy flower be so wondrous fair that its beauty exceedeth my lotus, then will I give thee the half of my kingdom. But should it fail to merit my admiration and my lotus remains the finest flower, then the half of thy domain becomes mine.’

“Vishnu agreed to this wager and the two quickly hied them to the Paradise that surrounded Vishnu’s palace. Brahma was conducted to a royal banqueting hall to partake of refreshments, but he was too eager to see the beautiful flower Vishnu had lauded.

“So the two sought the gardens where the sweetest and loveliest flowers bloomed all the year round. Then came Vishnu to a circular bed that was surrounded by a path, and all about this path were wonderful roses, wafting their perfume everywhere. But all the blossoms turned the one way—towards the circular flower bed in the center of which stood a tall, slender, majestic rose plant.

“Vishnu halted in front of this rose tree that stood apart from its brethren, as if consecrated for a purpose. And as he lifted his eyes to the tiny green bud that crowned the top of the bush, the bud began to grow. Brahma stared in wonderment, but said not a word—so marvelled he.

“In a few moments the bud had increased to its full size, which was thrice the size of a man’s head. And then it began to open its green doors. Slowly the white leaves of a flower appeared and when full grown, leaned back upon the stem of the blossom to make room for the other petals.

“Finally all the petals had appeared, and the rose seemed full-blown. Then came such a rare perfume from its heart as would intoxicate the beholders. And from the heart of the rose, there came slowly and gracefully a waxen-white goddess of surpassing beauty and fairness. She stepped daintily from the rose and stood before the bewildered Vishnu. Brahma was speechless with surprise also.

“Then spake the queen of the roses and said: ‘Vishnu, because thou hast honored the flowers in thine own home garden, Nature hath sent me to be your bride. Henceforth, the white rose shall be a bride’s flower, and its sweetness and beauty shall ne’er fade.’

“Thereupon, Brahma admitted willingly that this flower in the garden of Paradise was the most beautiful in the world, and the half of his kingdom became Vishnu’s, who now was the greater lord and governed Brahma and his possessions.”

When Mrs. Tompkins concluded her story of the white rose, the scouts applauded delightedly, and then Janet called out: “Tell me my flower, Mrs. Tompkins, and what is the legend to go with it.”

“When is your birthday, Janet?” asked the story-teller.

“August twentieth.”

Mrs. Tompkins laughed lightly and replied: “Janet, you have a flower that is a keynote to your character—daring, frank, stubborn to resist obstacles and adverse conditions, generous in sweetness and sunny coloring, but so willing to bloom everywhere that others might be cheered, that it is not half appreciated. I mean the dandelion, your natal day flower.”

The other scouts laughed at Janet’s expression and Mrs. James remarked significantly: “The dandelion never borrows trouble, skips merrily over the meadow or roadway, creeps in to smile on the fairest lawns, lifts its sunny face in the most squalid corners, but is often trampled under foot, or scorned because of its intrepid stand but bold assurance.”

“Well, if that means I am bold because I was impatient to know what my birth flower was, I have my answer. A dandelion! Pooh!” was Janet’s scornful rejoinder.

“Don’t scorn this little flower, Janet, because you say it grows commonly everywhere. The field and roadside blossoms have the greatest mission in God’s flower kingdom. Because they are told to brighten and cheer all climes and creatures. Besides this, the dandelion has a most interesting construction and its great sweetness offers unlimited nectar and pollen to the bees and birds. What would they do without the dandelion?” said Mrs. Tompkins.

Janet felt more resigned at this explanation, and Mrs. Tompkins continued: “The name of dandelion is not the correct one for this sunny blossom, but like so many of our English words it became commonly called the ‘dandelion’ because a foppish young lion of society who was one of the ‘dandies’ of his day, and used the little yellow flower as his symbol. It was used on his linen, his crest, and he always wore one in his button-hole.

“But the real name of the flower was Sun Lion, because of its endurance and powers to withstand overwhelming adversities, and because its face always smiled serenely up at the sun, and turned as the sun moved across the sky, to always keep its eye open towards it. This is what made its fine golden petals radiate from the central point outward—as the sun’s rays shine outward to all.

“The legend that I have heard of the dandelion comes from Indian lore, and the moral is quite simple to understand—never procrastinate.

“The South Wind, who was very fond of wild flowers, took a walk one day through a woods where he became enchanted with the pretty blossoms he found growing there. But he loitered so long that he became drowsy when the sun shone warmly down at noontime. So he found a secluded shady nook and curled up to have a nap.

“When he awoke, he found he had slept through the night and now it was morning again; so he lifted his head and rested it upon his elbow, and gazed delightedly around him. The woods with its admiring blossoms, smiled back at him, and out on the meadows the meek and lowly flowers nodded joyously to greet him.

“As South Wind smiled back at his admirers, he suddenly saw a happy little flower maid out on the meadow, dancing for joy and waving about her a bright sunny cloud of golden hair.

“South Wind was so enchanted by this bright vision that he decided to woo her for his bride. But the sun rose higher and reached noontime, when it shone too warm for South Wind to exert himself very much. So he said he would defer his wooing until the next day. Then he sought the cool and shady nook in the woods and soon fell fast asleep again.

“When he awoke again, it was another day, but still the golden-haired maid was dancing and smiling in the meadow; and the amorous South Wind sighed with sentiment and started to rise and woo the captivating beauty. But again the heat of noonday overcame his good intentions and he dropped back and took one more nap.

“He awoke early on the third morn and jumped up with the determination to go and win the fair maid that day without fail. So he blew himself quickly out of the alluring woods and reached the meadowland where he had watched the golden-haired dancer. As he softly approached the figure which now stood still in the grass, he smiled, for he pictured the greeting such a spirited maid would give him—the South Wind!

“He reached the figure, but what was his chagrin when he saw the wonderful golden hair had faded to grey, and the youth of the charming dancer had turned to old age upon a bended stem! Poor South Wind knew it was because of his delay in wooing and winning the object of his love, while youth and beauty remained, that now filled his heart with bitter disappointment. He sighed heavily with his sorrow, and his breath blew over the grey head of Sun Lion and at that breath of love lost, the whitened hair fell from her crown and were lightly wafted, here and there, and far away, leaving the old head shorn of all its covering, and bent low in useless regrets.”

This story met with more appreciative applause than the white rose legend, and then so many girls called for their natal flowers and the legends to go with them, that the Captain held up a hand for patience. When quiet reigned once more, Mrs. James said:

“I propose that we hear from our hostess of Green Hill Farm. Perhaps she has a favorite natal flower and a pretty legend to go with it.”

“Yes, Natalie—what is your birth date?” asked Mrs. Tompkins.

“My birthday is on the eleventh of June?” said the girl eagerly.

“June eleventh has the field daisy for its flower. It means ‘optimism.’ There are many stories in connection with the daisy—or Marguerite, as it is known in France. But the story that is claimed to be a true one, tells how Marguerite of heathen times, was driven from her father’s home in Antioch because she would not renounce the Christian faith and bow low to the pagan god. She loved the daisy and it became her flower after her martyrdom.

“There is a legend, or myth, about the daisy that says: ‘Once the dryads were dancing on the great Green of the world, when the god of spring passed by and stopped to watch the dance. The dryads were so merry and gay in the abandon of their whirl that they did not see the god of spring creep up and await his opportunity to spring forward and catch up the sweetest of them all—a modest lovely little form which had attracted his eye.

“‘Just as the god snatched the beauteous maiden from her companions, she lifted her head and called to heaven for help. Instantly she was turned into the lovely little daisy that always lifts its head toward heaven and greets the sun with smiles.’”

When the girls’ applause for this tale died out, Norma suggested eagerly: “Now we ought to hear Jimmy’s natal flower and its legend.”

“I already know my natal flower, and my birthday being so near at hand I think I will ask to be excused from the publicity such a revelation will make just now,” laughed Mrs. James.

“Tell us what your flower is, if you know it?” demanded Natalie eagerly.

“It is the honeysuckle—not the wild but the clinging vine,” returned Mrs. James.

“Ha! That means devotion, doesn’t it. Quite true of your characteristics, too,” remarked Mrs. Tompkins.

Mrs. James flushed, but smiled with thanks at the delicate compliment, then added: “Is there a legend to go with it?”

“It is a love story of Old England, but not claimed to be true. It goes like this: A sweet little country maid would not look at the uncouth lads of her village, so they stood aside and sighed in vain.

“But a handsome young gallant rode through the dale, one morn, and spied the lovely discontented rural maid as she stood beside the door of her humble home-cottage. He tarried in the village long enough to woo the girl who had appealed so strongly to his senses, but when he had won her love and she was dreaming of her wedding day, he realized how tiresome she would be in his gay life of London.

“So he told her ruthlessly one moonlight evening that he could not wed because he had wearied of her love. The maid cried out brokenly that she would not let him leave her. But he sprang away from her outstretched hands and ran for his horse which had been hidden behind the trees. Before he could reach it, however, the jilted maid ran after and caught his body in her embrace. She sank upon her knees, while she still clung desperately to his waist and hands and begged him to remain with her yet a little while.

“He was just about to tear away her clinging fingers so he could escape, when the moon rode out from behind the black cloud that had veiled its face hitherto. The broken-hearted maiden cried to the moon to help her keep her lover always beside her, and instantly, an icy finger of moonlight touched the callous youth and turned him into a slender tree. About the trunk of the tree there twined the arms of the girl in the form of the honeysuckle, but every tear she wept produced a splash of a flower that shed sweetest fragrance upon the air.”

“That is a very romantic little story, but not one that I can claim as an appropriate one for myself,” laughed Mrs. James.

“Now that Jimmy has had her flower and its legend, I think we ought to hear one for Miss Mason, too,” declared Janet.

“Yes, yes!” chorused the scouts eagerly.

“Well, girls, my birthday happens to be soon, and I feel the same as my Lieutenant does—that it will give the date too much publicity if you all hear it, just now,” retorted Miss Mason.

“Oh, I know when Jimmy’s is. If yours is near that time it ought to be the honeysuckle, too,” said Natalie.

“Just to compel the Captain to reveal the date of her birth, I will tell you, scouts, that my birthday is on the sixteenth of July—very imminent, you see,” said Mrs. James.

“Why! how interesting! That is my birthday, too!” exclaimed the Captain.

“Ho! A double birthday, then,” exclaimed Norma.

“And one we must celebrate without fail,” added Janet.

“Yes, indeed! Our two grand masters of the lodge having a birthday on the same day!” laughed Natalie.

“We’ll have the party, all right, to celebrate, but the Captain has no legend coming to her. She’ll have to take some of Jimmy’s honeysuckle and share the romance with her,” said Norma.

The scouts laughed merrily and when the teasing had subsided somewhat the Captain said: “We ought to know what Solomon’s Seal means—in a legend, I mean.”

But the girls were clamoring for their own birth flowers, so that Miss Mason’s words were lost. Mrs. Tompkins replied to most of the requests for the names and meanings of the various natal flowers, and the scouts heard that June the fifth had Verbena for its flower and its meaning was “discretion.” The Crocus for March seventh meant cheerfulness. The Canterbury Bell in August stood for gratitude. And the April Violet meant modesty. One of the scouts heard that the snapdragon meant presumption but she was the most retiring one of all the Patrol, so this called out a general laugh at her expense. Then Frances was told that her flower was the proud and disdainful sunflower and again the scouts laughed heartily for they declared that the flower dictionary was wrong. Frances should have had the fuchsia instead, which means “mad ambition.”

Two hours had passed in this interesting form of story-telling and now Mrs. Tompkins said she must be starting back home or her husband would send out the secret detective force of Four Corners to locate her.

The very idea of Four Corners having any such force made the scouts laugh gayly, but Miss Mason said anxiously: “Oh, you must not think of leaving the scout gathering until we have had our refreshments, Mrs. Tompkins.”

This part of the programme was unexpected by Patrol Two, but nevertheless very acceptable. Short shrift was made of the cakes baked by the scouts that morning; and the birch lemonade concocted from the essence distilled from macerated birch, made a delicious drink.

As the scouts of Patrol Number Two left camp and started for the house, one of the members of Patrol One called out: “Don’t forget the celebration on the sixteenth! We’ve got to get together very soon and plan for it.”

And Natalie, speaking for her scouts, called back: “No, we won’t forget!”

CHAPTER VII
THE ROCK AND WATER GARDEN.

Late that afternoon, when the girls were engaged with their various pursuits, Norma called Mrs. James to join her over at the rail fence. Here the two paced off the strip of ground and tied strings on the rails opposite which they planned to plant the wild berry and flower bushes from the woods.

This done, Norma said: “Now let’s go over to the barn yard and decide where to plant the sun flowers and other bushes from the woods.”

This was finally done, also, and then Mrs. James walked slowly from the barn to the edge of the tiny brook that ran all along the edge of the barn yard and found its outlet in the woodland stream. Norma followed, wondering why her companion paused so often to study the environment and why she turned to allow her eyes to rove over the rivulet and its weedy sides.

“I’ve been thinking, Norma, that this unsightly spot on the farm ought to be redeemed in some way. Not only does this insignificant creek afford many stagnant places where mosquitoes breed, but the briars and weeds growing so thickly on its banks keep scattering their seeds every fall and causing more work for us the following season.”

“What were you thinking of doing with it, Jimmy?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking a great deal of what you said yesterday, Norma, about wishing to build a rock garden with ferns and plants that grow well in such soil, and then when you had time to figure out the plans and cost of building a miniature water garden, you wanted to take up that interesting work.

“I have always had a desire to build a water garden, too, but I never really got so far as to see it done. I felt the wish to make one revive the moment you spoke of planning one. And just now when we crossed this undesirable patch of ground, I started wondering if we could not divert this stream into something for our garden.”

“Oh, but I had no idea of having my water garden over by the barn yard, Jimmy,” exclaimed Norma, greatly disturbed. “I wanted it to be on the front lawn, or near enough to the house so we could all enjoy its refreshing looks whenever we passed by it or sat on the porch.”

“That is my intention, too. I want to find out the source of this tiny creek, because it must have a source somewhere, you know. I do not remember any brook or water passing over the main road in front of the house, do you?”

“No, but we may have overlooked its being there. There may be a large drain pipe under the road, to conduct the creek from one side of the road to our side. I’ll go and find out.”

“We’ll both go and see just where this water has its birth. Now that I’ve given a thought to it, I’m as curious as can be, to locate its origin,” said Mrs. James.

So the two hurried past the house and out to the road. Here they walked for some distance past the corner post of the farm-line, but could not find anything that might possibly be a spring or creek that would finally form the tiny rivulet they were investigating.

So they retraced their steps and again reached the little ford over the barn yard lane, where the stream crossed.

“We’ll have to break our way into this jungle of shoulder-high weeds and briars, if we expect to find the source of the creek,” remarked Mrs. James, pinning her short skirt tightly about her and beginning to bend down the weedy stems that obstructed the way.

Norma followed closely in her tracks and after a slow progress through the stubborn undergrowth, the two came to a spot almost opposite the house, but about three hundred yards away from it.

“Why, the creek turns sharply towards the house here, Norma, but the jungle spreads further afield,” said Mrs. James, as she turned to the left to follow the stream.

They now reached a point in the course of the creek that was not a hundred feet away from the front corner of the house, but the reeds and briars had always hidden the small stream winding its way through the jungle. Mrs. James was elated at discovering a natural supply of water so near the front lawns and stepped out to proceed, when suddenly her foot sank in a soft bog.

“Oh!” exclaimed she, quickly pulling her foot out and stepping back. Norma was just about to advance, but she, too, jumped back to avoid a collision.

“What is it—a water snake?” called Norma anxiously.

“No, a mire. I went right down in a marsh. But it is not possible to determine how large an area the mire covers, because the undergrowth is so dense. Let’s go back and try to enter the place from the front-lawn side.”

So the two hastened back the way they had come, and tried to continue their investigations from the front lawn side of the briar patch.

The two stood on a slight elevation of ground at the front corner of the lawn, where stood a group of giant pines which had done service as silent sentinels for more than a century. They made one of the artistic scenic effects on the farm, with their wide-spreading limbs tipped with flat fans of aromatic green shading the lawn and road.

“From this slight knoll, the ground slopes naturally to this depression that is now covered with that tangled undergrowth,” said Mrs. James, pointing generally at the area under discussion. “You can see that the ground rises very gradually from the depression until it is on a level with the main road again. From the spot where I went down in the marsh, over to the property line of our farm, is more than a hundred yards across, and it is all such a jungle that no one ever bothered to investigate the possibilities of doing anything with it. At least, that is what I think, because this place has been uncultivated for years, as one can see.”

Norma listened intently and followed with her eyes, the various directions pointed out, but wondered what could be done.

“Now I am almost convinced that that creek finds its source somewhere in that bog. I believe that the spring we will discover there is not only the cause of that bog and the rank growth of weeds and briars, but it also furnishes the tiny stream of water that trickles past the barn. If this is so, Norma, then our hardest problem is already solved. In building a water garden the question of water supply is the greatest thing.

“One can run a pipe line from the house to any locality, and one can divert a nearby stream into a pool, and then lead its overflow away again, but that means a lot of work and expense. If we can find that the spring is located in, or near, this depression of ground, we not only have solved our difficulty of water supply, but we also have a natural pool formed by this slight hollow that is nicely graded all around to form the banks of our lake.”

“But, Jimmy, those roots will grow up again even if we cut off the tops of the weeds, and the bog will be horrid if it is underneath our pool,” was Norma’s disappointed reply.

“We’d have to get help and dig out the roots to prevent their decaying when under water. And we’d have to clear out the boggy ground and dig down until we struck solid earth again; then leave that for our basis to build on,” explained Mrs. James.

“Do you think Sam can do all of that? I know you and I could never accomplish it alone,” ventured Norma.

“I would have Mr. Ames go over the area and tell us what he thought of it. He can give us an idea of what it will cost to clear out the jungle, and clean up the bog from the bottom of the depression. If it does not cost too much, I think I will start the work at once.”

“It would be just wonderful if we could make our dreams of a water garden come true this year. I was afraid I would have to wait for next summer before I could try anything so elaborate,” sighed Norma delightedly.

“Now that we know where the creek starts, Norma, suppose we walk around by the road and climb the fence to get into the fringe of woods on the other side of this area. I’m curious to find out if this depression extends far across to the other boundary line of this farm. I only hope it does, for that will give us a wonderful expanse of water to plan for, and the spring can fill it just as easily as if it were a tiny little puddle. The height of the dam we will have to build at the far end of the depression, will be determined by the depth of the water we wish to have in the lake.”

“Oh, Jimmy! Will we have a real dam, too?” cried Norma.

“Of course! That is what will back up the water and fill the depression. If there is no dam, the water will go right on running away as it now does.”

The two now started for the road in order to gain the far side of the briar area, but Frances was seen coming from the barn in the automobile. They reached the gateway about the same time and Mrs. James asked: “Where are you going, Frances?”

“Over to Dorothy Ames’s to see if she can come over and advise Janet about some pigeons. Dot raises them, you know, and we want her to find a suitable place for Sam to start the cote.”

“Then I wish you would stop at the other Ames’s farm and see if Mr. Ames is home. If he can come over for a half hour, I’d like very much to ask him about some work to be done here,” said Mrs. James.

“I’ll not only stop and ask him, but we’ll stop and bring him back with us, if he can get away,” agreed Frances.

While the two were waiting for Frances to reappear with Farmer Ames, they talked eagerly of the lake they could already visualize in the place where bog and weeds now stood.

“If we build a dam, Jimmy, that means we will have a water falls, too, doesn’t it?” was Norma’s eager question.

“Yes, and I will want a bridge, too, over the lake.”

“Oh, how lovely! Maybe we can build a bridge like I’ve seen in magazines, where the large estates have landscape gardeners beautify the grounds. I’ve seen Japanese gardens with the loveliest bridges and islands in the lakes! I’d like a bridge with stone lanterns and Japanese idols and temples on it.”

Mrs. James laughed. “I’d like them, too, but I will be contented with a rustic bridge of cedar, for the time being. We may be able to have the upright posts heavy enough to hold up an iron lantern on its top, but the temple and little gods are out of the question, because they cost so much in the city.”

“Another thing, Jimmy, we can transplant lots of wild fruit and berry bushes from those woods on the other side of the fence, and grow them in groups on the banks of our lake. And we must group rocks in such places where they will be most effective, and then plant the fern and plants that will need moisture and shade. Oh, it will be perfectly lovely when it is finished!”

When Frances brought Farmer Ames back with her, the experienced man heard Mrs. James’s plans and wishes to start a lake. At first he laughed heartily at such a suggestion, but the more he looked at the disgraceful briar patch and thought of the beautiful spot a water garden would make, right there he changed his laughter to serious ideas.

“The old tenant never tilled that ground because it was so boggy and he claimed it was sour. So he just let it go like this, all the ten years he lived on the farm,” explained Mr. Ames.

“One thing I want you to find out now, is this: Just where is that spring located, and how much muck will have to be dug out before you strike hard ground to build on,” said Mrs. James.

“I kin tel you that in a very short time. I’ve got on my rubber boots, so I kin plunge right in now,” agreed Mr. Ames.

So he thrashed down the reeds and briars in his way and went into the marsh. The two anxious watchers on the high ground could see that his feet sank to a depth of about ten inches, or more. But that did not say that he had struck solid hard ground. He might have to dig out another six to ten inches of muck soil before solid earth could be reached.

Finally Mr. Ames shouted to the anxious gardeners: “I’ve struck the spring itself! Here’s where it bubbles up.”

“It’s almost in the middle of the area, isn’t it?” called Mrs. James delightedly.

“Yeh, and it makes quite a little way for itself until it gets clogged with dirt and tangle of debris. Then it spreads all over the place and causes the bog. It looks like an easy job to clean out a little ditch to run the water along to the creek, until we are ready to flood the whole area,” said Ames.

He prodded about some more and then he came out again. “I should say, Mis’ James, that that fixin’ ought to be right easy.”

“You do! How far over can we extend the water?”

“The land doesn’t begin to rise again until you get close to the fringe of bushes, over there—this side Natalie’s fence.”

“Splendid! Just what I hoped for!” cried Mrs. James, clasping her hands eagerly.

“And how far down past the house can we run it, Mr. Ames?” added Norma.

“Well, up hereabouts, where the roadway drops down to this hollow, it will be wider than down by the house, you know. In plain words, the head of the lake would be about where the fence divides the land from the main road. It will sort of round itself off before it gets to the clump of pine trees, and on t’other side it will round quite sharp instead of having any corner where the side fence joins the front fence of the property lines.

“Right across from the lawn to that side will be the widest part of the pond, and from there down to the end of the briar patch it will gradually narrow in until it reaches the place where you intend having the dam set,” Mr. Ames explained.

“How much work will it be to cut down the jungle and dig up the roots?” asked Mrs. James anxiously.

“If you mean for me to do it, I could start in with your man Sam to help me and clean off the weeds and the roots in about two days’ time.”

Norma could hardly believe it, but she said nothing, for Mrs. James was speaking again. “And then how long do you suppose it will take to scrape off the bog and muck and reach hard pan?”

“Umph! That’s not easy to figger on, ’cause some of the bog might be made by deep roots that hold on for dear life to the soil underneath. But Sam and I ought to be able to clean out the stuff in another two to four days—all depends.”

“We’ll do it, Mr. Ames! Even if I have to pay for the work out of my own money—we’ll have this lake without any delay. I wish you’d come and start work to clear the weeds just as soon as you can,” declared Mrs. James.

“Can you spare Sam all day tomorrow, if I come over to work?” asked the farmer.

“Yes, not only Sam, but Norma and I are going to help in this work. Perhaps some of the other scouts will join us, and every one can find something to do in the clearing of the place. While you are throwing out the muck, I intend to convey it to places conveniently near where it can be well mixed with manure and be ready to spread out on the floor of the pond as soon as you are ready for it. Yes, you come over in the morning, and we will be ready for you, Mr. Ames,” said Mrs. James.

That evening the scouts sat under the group of pine trees listening to Mrs. James describe her vision of a water garden. Each one had something to say, and every one wanted to help with the interesting development of the lake. So the work was detailed off in order to give every one a certain contract to fulfill.

There were large and picturesque rocks to haul, to pile up or group, in order to add to the natural beauty of the garden. Frances suggested a way to haul these rocks.

“We’ll get a chain and tackle from Ames and fasten the fingers of the clutch about a rock. The chain can be hooked to the back of the car and then I’ll drive while the rock is being dragged along the road to the lakeside.”

“You’ll have a dreadful hard job dragging an uneven rock over the dirt road. It will gouge up the ground and half bury itself all along the way. It would be much easier if we could wheel the rocks in some way, instead of dragging them over the road,” said Janet speculatively.

“Maybe we can borrow that old truck from the station man, at Four Corners, and hook the handle to the automobile and just pull it along with the rocks on it,” ventured Norma.

“That’s a good idea! I’ll drive in first thing in the morning and get it. Si Tompkins will ask the man for me. We won’t hurt it any more than trunks and ploughs and other things it has to move from the baggage cars to the farmers’ carts,” said Frances.

“Oh, no one will worry about hurting it,” laughed Natalie. “It is in such a battered state that nothing more can injure it.”

“Well, that’s settled, then. Some of you scouts will see to it that the rocks are delivered on the shores of the lake,” said Mrs. James. Then she went on: “Some will have to dig up the bushes and young trees in the woodland stretch, over on the other side, and carefully transplant them in suitable pits dug to receive them on the shores of the pool.”

A group of scouts was told off for this work and Janet with a number of friends were ordered to bring well-rotted cow manure from Ames’s farm and mix it with the soft muck which would be cleared out of the hollow. Small heaps of this mixture would be left at intervals all around the lake, so it could be readily shovelled back and spread out to form a rich soil under the water where water lilies, Egyptian lotus and iris could be planted.

“Another task that must be attended to is the carting of nice white sand to the fence line in front; so it can be used when the lake bottom is all finished. The sand must be spread out about an inch in depth, all over the compost soil, to keep the water clear. I’m going to hire Ames’s cart and farm horse to do this work. The sand from a pit half a mile down the road is just the kind we will need, so a few of you scouts can drive there and attend to this branch of work,” said Mrs. James.

But the majority of the scouts were chosen to help work on the clearing of the land. Not only were they willing to drag away the tough roots of old nettles and reeds, but they offered to help dig out the bog and carry the muck up from the hollow to heap it where Mrs. James would designate.

When Hester Tompkins went home that night and told her parents of the plan to turn the wild briar patch into a water garden, they thought it was splendid, and offered to assist in the work in any way Mrs. James needed them. So the next morning found Mrs. Tompkins ready to go with Hester to walk to the farm and begin to work for the future lake.

Mr. Tompkins had no trouble in borrowing the heavy truck from the baggage office at the station, and when Frances started for Green Hill, pulling the truck behind the automobile, several of the natives stood laughing. But the store keeper suggested a better way to help than by standing there laughing at nothing.

“I say! we husky men pitch in and help them gals root up the rocks they want for their garden. We all own crow bars, and we know how to handle a rock, so let’s pitch in, says I, eh?”

Most of the men had heard of the scouts’ farming and other work at Green Hill and every one wanted to inspect the place and see what these girls could do, so they agreed to join Si Tompkins and help collect the rocks for the garden. Had it not been for the strength and experience these men had to pry the rocks out of their resting places and remove them to the water garden which they were meant to beautify, it is doubtful if the girls could have finished that work quite so speedily.

When Mrs. Tompkins reached the house at Green Hill, she was welcomed by the girls because they knew she could advise them in many ways that would help the work along faster and better.

As Mrs. James led the way to the briar patch, Mrs. Tompkins said: “Have you planned to have a Japanese garden, or just a pool?”

“Norma said yesterday, how she would love to have a real Japanese water garden similar to those she has seen in magazines. But I told her we could not afford the money for the decorative lanterns, and temples and seats such as a Japanese garden called for.”

“Why, they won’t cost very much extra—only for the cement, you know,” said Mrs. Tompkins.

Norma and Mrs. James gazed in surprise at their visitor and Norma said: “What cement do you mean?”

“Why, the cement for the concrete. And the work is so interesting, too, you ought to try it before you count the cost.”

“You don’t mean that we can make the temples and other objects?” exclaimed Mrs. James.

“Of course! You didn’t mean to hire them made, did you?” was the lady’s retort, as much surprised as her two hostesses.

“I never dreamed of it! I don’t know a thing about concrete,” was Mrs. James’s dismayed answer.

“I’ll show you. As long as you are going to build a dam to back up the pond, you may as well order a few extra bags of cement and build your seats and bridges and other things so they will last.”

“I thought I would try and have some sort of a bridge of rustic wood, but I was pondering how to erect the pillars or posts so they would be firm and strong enough to hold up the span,” said Mrs. James.

By this time the three reached the edge of the area where Ames and Sam were already ditching a narrow outlet used to drain the marsh of the spring water. Mrs. James pointed out where she wanted a bridge to be, and Mrs. Tompkins nodded, then suggested:

“Don’t try to span the entire water with one bridge, Mrs. James. When Ames gets the marsh all cleaned out and it is dry enough for us to work in, we will mix the concrete and make a few islands in the lake. The largest one can be in the direction of the widest diameter of the lake, which is near the roadway that passes the place. Our bridge will run from here to that island. Then from the other side of that island we will build another smaller bridge to span the distance to an island nearer the other side, but further down near the dam. Then a third bridge can span that water from the island to the opposite shore. What do you think of my suggestions?”

“Oh, perfectly fine, but think of all the work in making the islands?” said Mrs. James.

“No more work than if you had to construct three solid piers for the bridge if you spanned the entire width of the lake. The concrete base we use for the islands will not have to be molded or clean-cut, you know. It will be poured on the floor of the marsh first then the thicker concrete will be piled on top of that when it is hard. We will embed rocks in this second layer so the mass will harden together and form as fine a foundation as one can want. In the crevices of the rocks and all over the concrete foundation, we will throw the rich soil you are planning to prepare, and in this we can plant our bushes and flowers.

“On the smaller islands we will not have room for bushes or shrubs, but the ferns and water plants can grow there. Besides, a planting of cat-tails in the soil around the islands will make them look much larger than they really are, and still show glimpses of the water glistening through their stalks.”

“Dear me, I’m so glad you came to advise us, Mrs. Tompkins, that I want to hug you for it!” exclaimed Norma enthusiastically.

The two women laughed and Mrs. James added: “Norma was so keen about having temples and seats and Japanese lanterns that I felt sorry for her disappointment. Now she can have them all and more, too.”

“I wanted to have those cute little dwarf pines in the stone jars on the bridge, you know, like they have in pictures, but Jimmy said the stone objects cost too much,” explained Norma.

“Let me tell you right here that the crooked little pines and cedars that you see growing in or near the water in the finest of Japanese gardens are not planted in the water nor in the soil of the water garden. They are planted in large galvanized or other metal buckets so they will be waterproof, and these pails are sunken into the ground, or hidden by reeds and ferns that grow up about the outer edges of the pail to screen it. The water generally reaches up to within an inch of the top of the pail so that the plant and the soil it is in never get wet from the lake. Quite often, the pails holding the trees are placed in the jardinieres of concrete, but do not show from the outside. They can be easily lifted out and given the care they need, and then replaced again. If they were planted right in the concrete posts they could not be taken out and attended to as they require it.”

“Then we can get some metal pails and have trees growing on our bridge, too!” declared Norma eagerly.

“You can buy some of the ordinary stable pails that Si keeps in stock. They are large and heavy and will never rust,” said Mrs. Tompkins.

“If you haven’t ordered your water lilies, or iris, or the lotus and cat-tail seeds yet, I think I can get them for you from a gardener over White Plains way, and save you money, too. He will give me a lot of plants for nothing, because I’ve given him plenty of valuable advice for nothing in the past.

“As for the cement—order that from White Plains at once so you won’t be delayed after the clearing is done. In fact, if I were in your place, Mrs. James, I’d let Frances drive over and bring back as many bags at a time as she can comfortably carry in the car. The bags can be wrapped in paper to keep the car clean.”

“I wish I knew half as much as you do, Mrs. Tompkins, because I’d think myself something, then,” sighed Mrs. James.

Mrs. Tompkins laughed. “The more you really know, the more you discover how little you have actually understood. Then the fact of one human’s insignificance dawns upon you.”

“Well, we sure are glad you gave us all this advice, even if you do consider yourself an insignificant human,” said Norma in so earnest a tone that the others laughed merrily at her.

Frances drove Mrs. Tompkins back to Four Corners and got the metal pails to carry back to the farm. She then wrote down the address of the store where she was to go for the cement and finally started back for Green Hill.

Rachel spread a long table, constructed of several boards, placed across two trestles on the side lawn that evening, and then called every one to supper. It was her greatest delight to invite company to dinner or supper and this occasion was an unusual one to treat the men from Four Corners who had remained and helped with the work all that afternoon.

Hands and faces were washed at the hydrant where the garden hose was generally attached. Rachel provided towels and soap for every one, and a merry group of girls and farmers were soon splashing freely in order to hurry their toilets and sit down on the boxes that stood in rows beside the long plank table.

Perhaps it was the feast, or it may have been the merry scouts as they entertained these middle-aged villagers that made Si Tompkins declare as they were ready to go home: “Boys, shall we help the gals out again tomorrer? They’ve got a powerful lot of rocks to haul, yet!”

And that is how the scouts secured such desirable workers in doing the very heaviest part of the entire work on the water garden.

After the men had gone and the dishes were all in the kitchen, the girls began to carry away the boards that had been in the cellar and were used for swing shelves in winter time, Mrs. James remarked to Miss Mason: “I wonder if goldfish will thrive in such a pond?”

“Why, of course! Didn’t you know that they are an absolute necessity for the health of your plants and the purity of the water? They eat up all the insect pests and mosquito larvae that grow on the water. But you won’t want to place any gold fish in the water until it is all settled and cleared from the work and soil.”

“Isn’t it funny, Jimmy, how I started out with a meek idea for a little rookery or a pool garden, and you had such great ambitions that we adventured into the bog. Now just see what is growing out of our infant plan! A great pond with islands and bridges and temples and everything!” exclaimed Norma, her eyes shining.

“We may end by holding a Japanese flower show in the garden this fall,” added Janet teasingly.

“Not unless my flowers and plants grow better than they seem to at present. I really suppose they were planted too late to have much courage this summer, but next year they’ll pay me back,” said Norma.

“You talk as if you liked Green Hill and was coming back!” laughed Natalie, pleased as could be at the idea.

“Coming back! Of course we are—if Jimmy and you will only let us! You didn’t think I was raising Susy for you to own next year, did you?” demanded Janet anxiously.

Mrs. James laughed: “We still have plenty of time in which to discuss next year, girls, so don’t let us argue about it, at this early date.”

CHAPTER VIII
THE RAIN INTERFERES.

Every scout at Green Hill went to sleep that night with radiant visions of working on the water garden the next day, and perhaps, seeing it nearing its completion by evening. But the day dawned and very few of the scouts could crawl out of bed. The unusual work that had brought many dormant muscles into play the day before caused backs and limbs to stiffen and ache, so that they cared little when they heard the rain pattering heavily upon tents and roof.

“Dear me! Do you suppose Mr. Ames will work in the rain?” asked Norma impatiently when she saw the steady downpour.

“He worked in the water up to his knees all day yesterday so I shouldn’t think the rain would frighten him away,” said Janet.

“But he had on hip boots that kept his feet dry. If he works in the rain he will be drenched in no time,” explained Belle.

“Besides, this rain will fill up the hollow so that the marsh will be very unpleasant to dig in,” added Mrs. James.

“I don’t see why the horrid old rain couldn’t stay away for a few days, until we got the lake finished,” grumbled Norma.

“The farmers will be so glad for this rain. We haven’t had any in so long they feared their crops would suffer from the drought,” ventured Mrs. James mildly.

“Oou-ch! Oo-oh!” came from Natalie, at this moment, and every one turned to ask what was the matter.

“Oooh—a stitch in my back that cramped me all up!” sighed the girl, bending over in order to crawl to the couch by the window.

That started a comparison of aches and cramps and pains that lasted until Rachel served the nice hot breakfast. She always had some remark to make on the progress of work at the farm, and now she said: “I declare! You scouts ain’t done any more experimentin’ on dat new churn we got, and I ain’t got no moh time to make your butter dan I’se got to fly! Seems to me you-all can work dat churn on a day like dis.”

“Rachel is right, girls! This is the sort of weather to make scouts look after house work. Now some of you can play with the churn while I experiment with a cake recipe I got from a farmer’s wife last week,” said Belle.

“If the cake is a success, who is going to eat it?” asked Janet.

“If the scouts in this part of the country weren’t so famished when cake was mentioned, I’d say you all could have a party with it,” laughed Belle.

“I’d say Belle had better finish her experiment first and then talk of parties later. Maybe no one will want to risk their lives with a bite of the cake after she has it baked,” added Natalie.

With teasing and laughing, the breakfast was finished and Janet, Natalie and Frances decided to do the churning that day, Belle said she would be occupied all morning in the kitchen, and Norma decided to put on her raincoat and oilskin cap and go out to see how the flower beds were looking.

Sambo’s dog, Grip, had not evinced any desire to bother anyone at Green Hill Farm because he was seldom to be found about the place, excepting at such times as when he rushed home for a meal or to sleep at night. The scouts of Patrol Number One said they often found him roaming about the woodland down by the stream, and Farmer Ames said he visited them at odd times and begged for a drink of water. Then he would wag his tail and scamper away again.

Sam grinned whenever any one of the girls asked him “what good was a dog like that?” And he generally said apologetically: “Dat Grip ain’t never had such a good time afore, so he don’t know how to enjoy it all at once.”

But Grip disliked the rain and so he lounged about the house and followed the girls to the cellar when they went to try the churn. And he was still prowling about in the corners when he heard Rachel call his name. That always meant something to eat, so he rushed up the cellar stairs in great haste.

Norma had gone out to her garden and the first thing she saw was a rank growth of weeds coming up where the seeds had been planted. This would never do, so she leaned down to pull them up. As she bent over the ground a dreadful odor came from it. She had to straighten up and turn away her nose because the smell was so unpleasant.

She examined everything near the flower garden to see if a dead cat, or rabbit, or other creature, was hidden in some corner, but nothing could be seen. When she turned back to the flower beds again, the odor was still there—overpowering to her delicate sense of smell.

“I’ll go and ask Jimmy if she used a new kind of compost on the ground without my knowledge.” So saying, Norma turned to go in by the kitchen way, but she saw Grip on the stoop very busy with a huge soup bone.

The moment he saw Norma place a foot on the lower step, he grumbled at such interference with his repast, and taking a firm hold on the bone with both jaws, he dashed off the stoop and ran towards Norma’s garden.

She stood watching him without any special motive in doing so, when suddenly she saw him burrowing a hole in her flower bed. She shouted and ran to stop such depredations, but Grip was pawing away with both front feet just as fast as he could, and the dirt flew out from under the active paws and scattered about for a radius of more than ten feet.

“Get out! Stop that, you rascal!” shouted Norma, now close enough to catch hold of his tail and try to pull him away.

But Grip had dropped the bone in the pit already made, and now tried to nose the soil back over it, while defying the drag Norma had on his appendage.

“Now I know what that awful smell is, you old tramp!” exclaimed Norma, angrily, as she gave up tugging at his tail, and instead ran to the cellar to get her garden tools.

The three girls in the cellar listened to her story of how Grip made a store room of her garden, and as they laughed appreciatively at the dog’s preference for a flower garden in which to save his future meals, Norma got her tools and went out.

With a little judicious hoeing and raking, she soon unearthed several well-decayed bones and chunks of raw meat which Grip could not finish at his meals, but planned to save them for a day of famine.

Norma tied a handkerchief about her nose as she dug up the odoriferous morsels and carried them on the shovel, held at arm’s length, down the lane to the barn yard where a compost heap was started for next year’s planting.

“There now! One book said that old bones and meat, as well as green garbage was excellent to mix in a compost heap before winter time, as it would all mature together.”

With this satisfaction of having performed a good deed, Norma returned to her flower garden to continue the weeding that had been so unpleasantly interrupted.

But Norma discovered that the same muscles in her hips and back that had ached so dreadfully all night, began aching again, with the bending over the flower garden to weed, so she had to give up all hopes of gardening that day. Having put her tools away in their accustomed place, she went to the kitchen to offer her services to Belle.

“You can stir up the chopped almonds if you will,” said Belle, busily engaged in beating the cake batter.

“Where is it?” asked Norma, looking on the table for a dish of nuts.

“On the stove—in the frying pan,” returned Belle.

“Goodness sake! Do you fry the nuts before you use them?” asked Norma, amazed at this way of making a nut cake.

“No, I do not fry nuts but I fry that mixture,” explained Belle. “You see this is a recipe a woman way back in the country gave me. She never has any nuts so she uses this counterfeit, and no one ever knows the difference.”

“What is it?” was Norma’s question, as she sniffed the mixture she was supposed to stir to keep from scorching.

“I cracked a lot of cherry stones that came from the pitter when Rachel canned those cherries, and the meat was soaked in a tablespoonful of alcohol to extract the flavor. Then I took a cupful of grape nuts cereal and soaked it in some cream. When it was soft I added the flavoring to taste, and now you are about to brown the whole thing in butter to keep the chopped nuts soft enough to chew like real nut-meat when it is in the cake. See?”

“Well, I never! What a fake!” laughed Norma.

“The woman told me of all sorts of fakes the bakers do to make customers believe they are getting first-class food stuffs. She told me how they used egg coloring to make the cakes and things look yellow as if plenty of eggs were used in them. Then she told me of the substitute for milk, which many bakers used because milk costs so much these days. Lots of them actually use a substitute for sugar and hardly any of them use vanilla bean, or real lemon, or genuine fruit extracts for their flavoring. It all is made of synthetic preparations that counterfeit the real flavors and are so much cheaper.”

“Huh! That’s why it pays to cook and bake at home, isn’t it?” said Norma.

“Yes, but even then, Norma, I found out that you have to know what you are buying or you get a counterfeit extract or baking powder, that is very injurious to eat. If one does not know this deception, one pays for the real thing and doesn’t get it.”

“I think someone ought to put a stop to such things!” was Norma’s amazed rejoinder to Belle’s disclosures.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but the food adulterers go right on their merry way, coining money out of their poor imitation articles, and the ignorant public go right on buying what they believe to be pure goods. One really has to know all sorts of things these days to keep ahead of the tricksters.”

“Well, Belle, I guess the girl scout teachings and work will turn out housekeepers who can get ahead of any of these clever counterfeiters, eh?” said a voice just then, as Mrs. James came in to the kitchen to see how the cake was getting on.

The need of Norma’s assistance was soon over, for the cakes were poured into gem pans and quickly shoved into the oven to bake. Then Mrs. James told the girls that she had seen a tenant move in to one of Norma’s bird-flats.

“Oh where—when?” cried Norma, rushing to the back door in order to look out.

“A bluebird selected the flat facing the field and I saw them both carrying material for a nest. Even the rain had no dampening effect on their ambition to settle down in your cheese box apartment,” laughed Mrs. James.

The other girls who were in the cellar heard the excited voice of Norma as she talked about her new tenant, and all three dropped the paddle and ran upstairs to watch the bird nest building.

“Hey, dere! You’se can’t stop churnin’ like dat, once you starts it goin’!” shouted Rachel, catching hold of two of the girls just in time to prevent their escape to the back stoop.

Belle had hurried out after Norma at the news about the bluebirds, but Mrs. James called her back as she laughingly said: “Those nut cakes won’t take more than a few minutes to bake and I’m here pining away for a taste of one.”

“Oh, goodness! I forgot all about the cakes in my excitement over the birds,” cried Belle, as she ran back to open the oven door and see how the cakes were doing.

“I wish we had all taken the time to hang our bird houses up,” remarked Janet, as she started for the churn again.

“Let’s do it as soon as this work is done, Janet. Sam hasn’t anything much to do today and he can help. All those large houses are still waiting to be hung in quiet nooks,” said Natalie.

So the remaining bird houses were placed that day and the girls felt that the least the birds could now do was to come and live in them. The rain ceased directly after dinner, and by two o’clock the sun shone feebly from behind the banked-up clouds. But it was clear enough to allow the work on the lake to continue, so the scouts from camp came up and joined the girls from the house.

“I had an idea this morning when I pondered the hold-up this rain made for us,” remarked Mrs. James, when all were ready to begin work. “If we had ditched the narrow strip which is going to drain the bog out into the little creek this rain would not have interfered with our working on the lake hollow. We can dig on that drain now, and then the ground in the depression will dry all the sooner.”

“That’s what we will! We’ll begin near the barn where the little creek passes, and ditch the place deep enough to carry off all the surplus water not standing in the marsh,” agreed Miss Mason.

No more time was lost by the scouts that day and soon they were digging and picking and shoveling for dear life. Many willing hands make light work, too, so the length of ground that had been left to do when Ames stopped digging the day before, was now finished and the last spadeful of soil was finally thrown out. Then the water that had flooded the bog area began to run out and the workers were delighted to think how dry the erstwhile marsh would be by the following morning.

As they started back for the house, after completing this important bit of work, Miss Mason said: “I tried to think of something this morning that we might do to help complete the water garden, but I couldn’t remember a thing. While we were digging, it came to me quite clearly that on just such a day was a good time to take up the bushes and young trees you wanted transplanted to the strip of ground along the field fence. The soil will have clung to the roots and the soil where we transplant the bushes will have been moist enough to help the roots take hold.”

“Why can’t we go for some now?” asked Norma eagerly.

“You scouts all complained of aching backs and cramped muscles, so I thought you would not care to work any more today,” explained Miss Mason.

“But all my aches went away when I started to dig again,” confessed Janet and the others admitted to the same sudden cure.

So they voted to find and dig up as many berry bushes or wild grape vines or other fruit-bearing plants for the birds as they could find and carry away before supper time.

Consequently, there was quite a brave showing of bushes and vines along the fence line before twilight that evening. One of the girls discovered a small mulberry tree which was taken up with all its wide-spreading roots. But it took the combined help of four scouts to carry it safely from the woodland to the field.

The scouts at the house needed no alarm clock to rouse them the next morning, as every one was eager to see how much of the marsh had been drained out by the ditch they had dug. Rachel said they would have time to run out and look around before she would have breakfast ready, so out they went—all making for one objective, the front lawn where the marsh could best be inspected.

“Well, well! Who’d have thought a little thing like that ditch would make such a difference!” exclaimed Norma, the first to reach the place.

“It certainly looks encouraging, doesn’t it?” declared Janet, as she saw the clumps of bog now sticking up without any water in sight anywhere, excepting the tiny stream that ran from the spring in the middle of the area.

“Girls, how far down shall we build the dam?” asked Mrs. James.

“We’ll have to put it where it will best back up the water, won’t we?” asked Janet.

“We can build it where we like, if we want to expand our lake any larger or longer than we had first planned for.”

“If we could have an irregular shore line on the lake, and at that end where the dam is to be, have it taper off from a lake into something like a natural looking stream and then place the dam almost opposite the dining room windows so the music of the water falls will be heard as we sit at the table, I would like that immensely,” suggested Norma.

“If we had the stream above the dam stretch along as far as that, I see no reason why I should not have my water fowl swim and spend their summer days in the lake. They won’t have very far to waddle to reach the pond, if the dam is so far down towards the barn yard,” said Janet eagerly.

Every one laughed, because Janet planned all things to fit in with her stock’s pleasure and benefit. But Mrs. James added: “Girls, I think Janet’s idea of having ducks and geese swimming in the stream and lake is a good one, as live water-fowl always make the lake look more picturesque. A swan would be entirely too large for so small a body of water, but the ducks and geese will be just the right size.”

“You said you wanted to put goldfish in the water, but Janet’s water-fowl will eat them up the moment they see them,” said Natalie, grinning at her own astuteness.

“If we stock the goldfish in the lake from the first and only permit Janet’s goslings to swim about at first the fish will get accustomed to keeping out of their way and the goslings will not be experienced enough to snap them up at every turn. Then the adult ducks can be allowed to come to the lake when the fish are practiced in dodging their natural enemies,” suggested Norma.

“Or better still, why not have Janet select ducklings instead of grown ducks from Mr. Ames, just as she has the goslings instead of grown geese? Then all the little things can swim about in one happy family, and not eat each other up,” remarked Mrs. James.

“That’s just what I’ll do! I’ll have Mr. Ames exchange the six big ducks I just bought for twenty-four ducklings, as they are four times cheaper than a grown duck.”

“Why didn’t you take little ones, in the first place, if they are so much cheaper. They don’t eat half as much, either?” was Norma’s surprised question.

“Oh, but they do eat—more than big ducks. They can’t pick for themselves and so I would have to feed them cornmeal and cracked corn. But the main reason I chose the big ducks was because Ames said little ducklings were so hard to raise. If I had a nice clean pond of water where they could swim and bathe, he said it would be different, but that ditch running past the barn, was too small and scummy for ducks, he said. With the lake we plan to now have, the ducklings will thrive and enjoy themselves and not be so hard to rear,” explained Janet at length.

“You all spoke of moving the dam down to the barn to accommodate Janet’s fowl, but I say why not let Janet move her duck and geese coops up nearer the place where the dam had best be built, and the water fowl will appreciate it just the same,” said Belle.

“As usual, Belle’s voice in the matter carries the vote,” laughed Mrs. James.

“Well, then, let’s choose a site opposite the dining room window as I suggested and dig a winding stream from the lake to the water falls, to make it look picturesque. Then the little stream that runs from the falls to the stream down by the woodland will take its own course in getting there,” declared Norma.

“How high are we going to have the dam, Jimmy?” asked Frances.

“I do not know, but Mr. Ames is going to measure the highest depth of the lake over by the pines and then gauge it from that point down to the point opposite the dining room windows, as Norma just said. The difference between the highest point at the pines and the lowest point down by the ditch will be the height we must build the dam.”

“Dear me, I can see myself swinging in a hammock under those pine trees, with a box of candy, dreaming away the hours while listening to the musical tinkle of the water fall, eh, girls?” said Mrs. James, clasping her hands and rolling her eyes as they had often seen Norma do when she was particularly romantic.

The girls laughed and Janet retorted: “When anyone finds Jimmy taking life easy, it will be time to feel her pulse and take her temperature. Nothing but a fatal illness will ever stop her from being in six places at one time, and superintending every one on Green Hill Farm, while looking after her own affairs, too!”

The laugh that followed this remark was unceremoniously interrupted by Rachel’s call to breakfast. While the girls were concentrating their thoughts on doing full justice to Rachel’s culinary art, Sam knocked meekly at the door that led out to the side porch.

“Come right in, Sam,” called Mrs. James, and he came in bowing politely.

“I come to tell Miss Norma ’bout dis grass. Tompkins got dat new lawnmower from Noo York last night, and tol’ me to say it is waitin’ foh Frances to cart home. Jus’ as soon as it ’rives, dat grass it ought’a be mowed or it won’t be no good no more.”

“Thank you, Sam. Frances will bring the mower when she goes for the mail and then Norma will start at once to cut the grass,” replied Mrs. James, smiling at Sam. Having delivered his message, he bowed again and went out.

CHAPTER IX
VARIOUS UNDESIRED TASKS.

The addition of a cow and a calf, the two swarms of bees, the goslings and Rhode Island Red chickens increased the interest of the girls in their farm life, but it also increased Janet’s work and responsibilities. Then Natalie’s vegetables grew so well that lettuce was an every-day side dish at meals now; and soon, there would be new string beans, beet tops to cut and cook and radishes.

Meantime, Norma’s asters had recovered from their almost fatal dose of Paris Green and the heliotrope that Mrs. Tompkins had sent the amateur florist to replace the one she had killed with the poison was blooming well and wafting its sweet incense upon the breezes, to be carried everywhere about the house.

While the girls were still at breakfast, Mr. Ames drove in at the side gate. Janet sat facing the open window and was the first to see him.

“Oh, he’s got the dump cart and old Ben!” cried she.

“He must be planning to use the cart for something,” said Norma.

But a lively breeze carried an odor far different from the heliotrope blooming in Norma’s garden.

“Oo-oh! Close the door and windows—hurry up, Nat!” called Janet, holding her breath while the girls ran to close the windows.

“Ames brought the compost for the water garden,” was Mrs. James undisturbed statement.

“Of course, he had to bring it some time, but he did not have to stop with it directly under the dining room windows,” said Natalie, in an injured voice.

“Some one had better run out and direct him where to dump the cart load or he will leave it right here, just as he did that other load of fertilizer that he brought for Norma’s flower gardens,” said Belle anxiously.

“If you girls will excuse me, I’ll go and tell him what to do with it,” said Mrs. James, rising and going out.

Then the cart was soon rolling away from that side of the house, and Mrs. James showed Farmer Ames where to leave the old well-rotted cow manure that was to be thoroughly mixed with the mucky marsh soil before spreading it out on the floor bottom of the lake.

“I brung the cart ’cause I figgered the gals would want to use the hoss and cart to get the sand and small rocks for the garden,” explained Ames, as he mopped his brow, after finishing his work on the compost.

“Oh, yes, they will be glad to know they can use it,” said Mrs. James, but at the same time she wondered how to manage so small a cart and so many scouts—for every one of them would wish to ride and cart sand.

Mr. Ames found Sam waiting to help, so the two went to the hollow that was to be a lake and were agreeably surprised to find the water drained out and the bogs standing free and ready to be removed. Mrs. James had forgotten to tell Ames what the girls had accomplished the previous evening with work on the ditch near the barn yard.

Frances drove to Four Corners immediately after breakfast and Janet had to take care of her stock. Natalie had to weed her garden that morning, as she had given it no attention for the past four days and Rachel warned her about the weeds growing higher than the corn and beans.

It was Norma’s and Belle’s turn to milk Sue and prepare the milk for the morning, but both the girls preferred to work on the water garden. When Belle slipped into the kitchen to offer Rachel a quarter if she would do the milking, Mrs. James overheard it and came out.

“No, indeed, Belle! Norma and you must do your work even if you detest it and want to fuss around in the bog. Besides this milking, Norma has to cut the lawns when Frances brings back the mowing machine from Four Corners. She agreed to attend to this work, long before we dreamed of having a water garden. So now it will have to be done, you know.”

Norma pouted but said nothing, for the fact was too obvious to be denied. So Belle and she reluctantly went to the barn yard where Sue waited impatiently to be milked. She had been waiting for more than an hour already and was not apt to be very quiet during milking when she had been kept from her cool pasture so long after sun-up.

“You start the milking, Belle, and I’ll mix the mush for her,” suggested Norma, going to the barn to get the meal.

Belle looked for the stool but could not see it, so she grumbled to herself: “Oh, well! I’ll milk without a seat. Sue always stands still these days and Norma will be holding the pan of mush for her to eat, anyway.”

Janet was very busy in the pig pen, trying to dig out a pool for her pigs to bathe in. Now that the cement was on hand, and she had heard how to mix concrete, she was going to build a fine bath for them. So she merely glanced up when Belle and Norma came to the barn yard to milk the cow.

Belle stooped upon her heels and sat the pail in position, but before she could start milking, Sue gave a vicious kick with a hind foot and sent the pail against the fence of the pig pen. It was badly dented when Belle picked it up and shook it at the cow. That attracted Janet’s attention, and she left the pool-digging and leaned on the fence to watch her companions try to milk Sue.

Norma brought the pan of mush from the barn and hurried with it to Sue’s nose. But Norma had not quite overcome her old timidity of a cow, and Sue’s eyes this morning looked very suggestive of evil. Then, too, those two horns were very long and very curved and very sharp on the ends!

So Norma stood as far on one side as she well could and still manage to hold out the tin pan of corn and bran meal mixed in warm water to keep Sue in a good humor while she was being milked. Being so intent on the cow’s next move, Norma did not notice that Belle was not seated on the stool.

The pail was placed in position again, and Belle again squatted to begin milking. All went well for a few minutes but a horse fly lit on Sue’s leg and took a good hard nip out of it. Instantly the cow kicked rebelliously and switched her tail to try and wipe the pest away. This time the pail rolled over and the contents foamed away in a little stream.

Janet laughed aloud and called to Belle: “Try, try again!”

“Don’t waste futile words—can’t you see that I am trying again and again!”

Norma momentarily forgot her dread of Sue in watching Belle pick up the pail and plank it down hard upon the ground, then squat to try the milking once more. But the horse fly still clung to the cow’s leg and kept the bovine victim aware of its presence, so that Sue finally switched her tail fiercely and suddenly turned her head to see if she could frighten it away by the bobbing of her horns.

This was so unexpected to Norma, that when she saw the big eyes and lolling tongue of the cow staring her right in the face, she dropped the pan and screamed. At the same time she tried to spring backwards out of Sue’s reach, but stumbled over a board and measured her length on the ground.

The switch of the tail, the banging of the tin pan, the scream of Norma, all made Belle jump but she was squatting on her heels and could not balance, so she went right over backwards. Janet leaned over the fence of the pig pen and fairly screamed with mirth at the sight of her two friends stretched out on the barn yard ground.

But Farmer Ames had sent Sam to the barn to get an extra pickaxe and he now arrived in time to see the trouble Belle was having in trying to milk the cow. So he sat down and in a few minutes the stream of milk was flowing freely and the horse fly flew away to find a better resting place without so many disturbing mortals always about.

“Now, then,” said Sam, when he had finished the task. “You gals can lead her to pasture in the field, but be careful and not tether her near them beehives, or she’ll get stung and run away again like she did afore.”

With Sue secured in the pasture lot, Norma and Belle felt that the hardest work of the day was finished. So they walked back to the house eagerly planning for the water garden. They went in at the side door of the porch, to get their sun bonnets, but Norma heard Frances call out as she drove the car past the door:

“I’ve left the lawn mower out here for you, Norma! Jimmy said you were to try and see if you can cut the lawn with it.”

“Dear me! I forgot all about the old grass! I suppose that will take all day, now!” exclaimed Norma impatiently.

But Belle had no condolences to offer, so Norma went through the kitchen and flew down the stoop steps to look for the new mower—she called it “that old mower!”

Frances had left it on the gravel path just around the corner of the house, and Norma, in hurrying along this path, ran into it and stubbed her toe against the wheel.

“Ouch! Who left this old machine right in my way?” she demanded angrily as she limped over to the porch and sat on the lower step to hold her foot and rock back and forth.

But no one heard her wail so she got up after a time and limped back to the lawn mower. She looked it over and in spite of her annoyance, she admitted that the machine looked very smart and capable in its crimson paint and gold trimmings. Then she took hold of the handle and tried to push it over to the grass.

Rachel heard the click of the knives and came to an upper window to look out. When she saw Norma pushing the mower through the grass without having any effect on the long blades, she called out.

“Dat hay is so long by dis time, dat it’ll take Ames’s scythe and a day’s cuttin’ to chop it down fairly well for dat mower to go in and cut.”

Norma now glanced up at the head stuck out of the window and said: “Did you leave that mower right where any one could fall over it?”

“Now, Honey, I ain’t Gen’l Washerton who neber tol’ a lie—but I kin say dis much—if it’ll help dat toe enny, I diden shove the mower in your way, but I knows who did do it!”

“Who! I’m going to tell them what I think of them!” said Norma, with a flushed face.

“I ain’t goin’ to tell—see!” and Rachel quickly drew her laughing face out of sight, and Norma stood fuming for nothing.

About this time, Janet ran along the lane and called to Norma. Being only too glad to leave the mower in the uncut grass and find an excuse to go with Janet to help her in some work, Norma met her half way.

“Say! I just had a fine idea about the pigs’ bathing pool. If I make a concrete bath in the present pen, I will have to keep filling it with water every day. But if I move the pen over to the little brook, they can swim about and bathe as much as they like, and the water will always be clean, because it will run off continually, you see. Don’t you think it would be a simpler matter to move the pig pen than to carry water every day?”

“Of course, but what will you do with the pigs while you are moving the pen and house?” asked Norma.

“Why, I won’t do anything with them, I’ll just build a new house and pen. Jimmy thinks this one will prove to be too weak, anyway, as soon as the pigs grow big and strong.”

“How long before that will be?” asked Norma wonderingly.

“It won’t be long now that I have started a regular course of feeding. This morning I gave them a lot of greens from Nat’s garden—the ones my hens scratched up, you know. Then I fed them enough corn and other stuff to satisfy them for once. I’ve made up my mind to overfeed rather than underfeed them, hereafter.”

“Well, I think the plan of moving the pig pen is best as long as you say you will need a stronger house and fence in the near future,” was Norma’s careful judgment.

“That’s what I think! Let’s go and ask Jimmy what she says about it. I’m most anxious to give them a regular bathing pool, and if she thinks a pen near the brook will be all right, I’m going to start it at once,” declared Janet.

But Mrs. James vetoed the plan of having the pen on the banks of the brook for several reasons, the principle one being: “The pigs, when they are larger, will root in the water and burrow a hole under the fence and get out by way of the brook. You will be in constant race to catch them again. But you might run an iron pipe from our water falls down to a site nearer the falls than the present pen is. That will furnish all the water you will need in a pool. Or you can attach a hose to the old hydrant in the barn yard and fill a concrete pool that way.”

“Is the grass all cut, Norma,” continued Mrs. James, turning to the girl.

“Oh, no! Rachel says it is much too long to run the mower through. I tried it but it wouldn’t budge. Rachel says it needs a scythe and a strong man to cut it down now as it is almost hay.”

Mrs. James smiled but said nothing, so the girls looked over the work that Ames and Sam had accomplished since morning. As they remarked at the amount of bog and muck that had been taken up out of the hollow, Mrs. James added:

“Yes, and you girls can mix it with the cow manure if you have nothing else to do. I was about to go for the wheel-barrow and bring a load of the compost to the first little heap of muck.”

“What shall we mix with it?” asked Belle, and Norma said: “What shall we use?”

“One of you can borrow Ames’s fork while the other goes for our own digging fork in the barn. I will wheel as much of the fertilizer as is meant to be mixed in one of the pyramids of marsh muck, and one of you can fork it in thoroughly. The next load I will wheel to the second heap of muck and then the other girl can mix the two fertilizers together. In this way, we ought to be through with all the different heaps that Ames is shoveling up on the bank by the time he is finished cleaning out the swamp.”

Janet and Norma had not hankered for this particular kind of gardening, but they liked it better than doing some tiresome task that had become monotonous because of daily repetition. Norma was forking over the muck with an earnest goodwill when the cries from Janet caused every one on the farm to race for the barn yard to find out what dire thing had happened there.

This was the time Janet discovered Seizer, one of the three little pigs dead from overeating and the tomato vines she had fed them that morning.

It took a full hour to calm Janet’s regrets and cries, but the distressing circumstance cooled the girls’ ardent eagerness to finish the water garden that day without fail.

When Farmer Ames laid aside his tools that evening, however, and went to get Ben and the cart, he said to Mrs. James: “Well, it looks as if that work would be finished tomorrow!”

This was so encouraging to Norma that she began to reconsider her recent hasty decision that flower gardening was a waste of time unless one had money and help to do the work right.

Directly after supper, that evening, Norma sat down to write a few lines home. The other girls were planning to do likewise for each one needed money to conduct her business undertaking.

“Dear Mother and Father:” Norma began.

Then she sat chewing the end of the pen holder and frowned at the road in front of the house. The sight must have been inspiring, for a moment later she resumed her writing and kept steadily on until the letter was finished.

She told her parents of the coming of Sam and his dog; of the drive across country in search of a cow, and how they got one from Miss Jipson, and how the man Folsom tricked them with little Susy, but how Mrs. James squared accounts with him afterward.

She used several sheets of paper to tell how Janet’s chickens escaped and dug up Natalie’s precious vegetables and how Rachel fooled Janet into believing the old Leghorn hens were laying eggs every day, while all this time Sam was sent regularly to put the eggs from the farmer in the nests. Then she described how Janet thought she had poison-ivy rash all over her, but discovered it was all the fault of the chicken lice that infested her hens, and on the brood hen she had handled so much.

The scratching pen had moved rapidly across the sheets of paper while Norma smilingly told these stories of Janet and Natalie, but when she began to describe some of her own woes in flower gardening, she lost her smile and trouble sat heavily upon her brow. She told how she killed her best heliotrope plant by using four times the strength of poison to kill the bugs; how the dog planted his old bones in the finest seedling bed and half of the shoots were rooted out; how Janet’s hens dug up the rest of them the morning they escaped from Natalie’s vegetable gardens. The most recent complaint was the lawn grass. It grew so fast and shot up so tall that no mower was yet made that could plow through it. Norma did not add here that she had postponed mowing the lawns for more than a week, because she was so interested in landscaping the strip of ground beside the fence and making a water garden.

The story of Seizer’s sudden death and the cause of it, followed next in order, but scanty room was given to the account of Janet’s violent grief and the funeral she insisted upon having. She wrote the minutest description of how she helped ditch the bog and drain the spring water away from the lake. And how they prepared the rich soil that was going to be spread over the bottom of the lake to grow the lilies, iris and lotus, as well as other water plants. The islands, the bridges and the rocks were described and then followed the glad news that Mr. Ames thought the work would be completed in another day.

Just as Norma was going to end her letter she remembered she had said nothing of the bird houses and bees which played an important part in her flower gardening. But she mentioned the facts and said she would tell them all about the bird flats when next she wrote. As usual, she signed herself a loving daughter, then she added a postscript—to her the most important part of the letter:

“P. S.—Got Daddy’s check. Many thanks. Can use another soon, for my plants for fall and next spring planting.”

CHAPTER X
THE WATER GARDEN COMPLETED.

Farmer Ames brought another cartload of manure the next morning, so the muck heaps could all be mixed and finished that day. The scouts from camp had asked to be allowed to help the work along this last day, and Mrs. James gladly accepted their offers.

Breakfast was early, so a long day could be given to the various tasks to be done before the water could be turned into the reservoir. The cement was waiting beside a wooden trough that Sam had quickly constructed, the gravel that had been carted the day before was in a pile, and the sand for the concrete work had also been brought from the pit down the road.

Mr. Ames had selected such lumber at the barn as he could use and hitched the boards to Ben’s harness; the horse was driven over to the site for the new dam and the planks were then roughly framed up to make two standing partitions with about a foot of space between.

As breakfast was over at such an early hour, Rachel felt justified in taking the spare time to visit the scene of work, and give her opinion on the water garden which was to be. She stood with her hands on her large hips and surveyed the wide depression for a while, then spoke to Mrs. James and any one who was concerned.

“’Pears to me you-all is goin’ to a hull lot of trouble jus’ to fill dis holler wid water. Diden you-all know dat you cud stop up the crick down by the barn and back all the water you want into this place?”

“But the reeds and briars had to be removed, Rachel,” said Mrs. James.

“Jus’ chop ’em down wid a sickle—da’s all,” was the lofty reply.

“We had to get the roots out, too,” added Mrs. James.

“Diden you know dey woul’ rot ef dey was under water a long time?” asked the maid, with astonishment at such ignorance.

“They would sprout before they would decay, and we had to clean off the bog so the roots would come out with the marsh muck,” was Mrs. James’s patient reply.

Rachel made no further comment for she was too intent on watching the girls carrying the well-mixed soil from the banks back into the hollow again. Here they carefully spread out the enriched soil to the depth of about twenty inches.

“Well—sus!” ejaculated Rachel. “Dem gals is carryin’ all dat muck back where Ames tuk it from all dis week!”

“It has been so thoroughly mixed with manure that it is now ready to use for plants. All the roots and rocks have been cleared out of it while it was spread out upon the banks.”

Rachel felt that her valuable advice had been ignored in this direction, so she walked along until she came to the piles of rocks. Some had been rolled into place where they were to be left, but many were piled up waiting to be artistically arranged in various spots.

“I ain’t never hear tell of plantin’ rocks fer a garden, but nuttin’ is queer dese days, ’cause the hull world is gone clean crazy!” commented Rachel scornfully.

Norma and Natalie overheard her remark and laughed. Then Rachel looked back at Mrs. James and said: “I s’pose growin’ rocks is one of dese gals’ crazes—and you let ’em do such stunts?”

“You wait until the garden is finished and then judge if the rocks look crazy where we intend putting them,” laughed Mrs. James, hoping to quiet Rachel’s fault-findings.

But the maid took offense at being told to waive judgment for the time being and turned away to stride back to the house without another word or look for the gardeners.

There was too much to be done, however, for anyone to pay the least attention to Rachel’s wounded pride, and soon the scouts were bustling about like bees at a hive. The wooden mold, or frame, for the dam was completed and Ames now gave his attention to the islands.

“You show me about where you want them made,” said he to Norma and Mrs. James. “I sent Sam to the barn to bring some more small boards for more frame-ups.”

The three most interested ones now descended to the floor of the hollow and prospected carefully before locating the main island which was to be in the wildest part of the pool. The distance from the bank to the desired spot, had to be taken into consideration, as the rustic bridge must not have piers or supports in the center of it—the foundations on either end were to be sufficient to uphold it. When the location was finally decided upon, Mr. Ames drove his crowbar into the hard ground to mark the site.

The sites for the two smaller islands were next considered and located, before the farmer paid any attention to Sam who had been trying to attract notice from the three in the depression.

“Now—whad do you want?” bawled Farmer Ames, going toward Sam as he spoke.

“I ain’t found no board what’s big enough for making islands,” shouted Sam.

“I told you to fetch all the strong boards you could find, ’cause I’ll make them big enough!”

Sam went back to do as he was told, and Mr. Ames came up out of the hollow to start mixing the materials for the concrete. The scouts all stood around during this interesting process, as they wished to learn how to do the work in order to be able to build whatever they needed in the future.

A temporary floor of heavy planks was laid and upon this the farmer proposed mixing the cement. He took a bag of cement, added a barrow full of fine sand, another barrow full of gravel and scrap junk,—such as bits of iron, trap-rock, slate and other hard sharp splinters—and mixed all thoroughly together. Before he began adding water to this preparation, he called to Sam to carry the boards he had brought from the barn down to the place where the largest island was to be built.

A number of boards were adjusted to form a frame about the size of the basis for the island, and these were braced and fastened in place to keep them from being pushed outwards once the concrete was poured into the mold. Then the farmer called to Sam to help him in mixing the cement and other materials. The water was slowly added and Sam kept mixing with a steel hoe, until the composition was the required consistency to easily pour.

When Mr. Ames gave the word, every one helped filling buckets and pans and boxes and carrying them over to the island. They were quickly emptied into the large mold, and the scouts ran back for more concrete. Here and there Mr. Ames pressed a rock or a number of smaller stones into the soft preparation, and as this hardened and set, the rocks became embedded as firmly as if cast that way by Nature.

When the concrete reached the top edge of the board mold Mr. Ames topped it off with a rim of rocks, and into this hollowed center, more concrete was poured until the mold was filled still higher. Its full height from the floor of the basin now reached to about thirty inches, and this was considered high enough. The large rocks were now placed as Mrs. James directed, so that the effect was one of Nature’s handiworks. In between the crevices and hollows made by the large and jagged rocks, the soil would be filled when the concrete was set. And in this soil the vines and plants or shrubs would be planted.

The side of the island nearest the shore had been kept smooth and flat as the concrete rose higher about the rocks, and upon this wide flat wall the end of the rustic bridge was to be laid.

The two smaller islands were now formed in the same way, Mrs. James being careful to superintend the sides which had to be left smooth for the bridges to rest upon.

It took all morning and into the middle of the afternoon to finish the concrete work on the islands, but once they were done, the scouts felt that the hardest part of the water gardening was completed. Mr. Ames then began work on the concrete dam, but was concerned to discover that all the sand had been used for the islands.

“Somebody’s got to drive Ben to the sand pit and fetch a load of sand for the dam. And then git more for the covering of that soil, ’cause you said you wanted at least an inch of white sand spread over the muck to keep the water clear and clean,” said Farmer Ames.

“Let me drive Ben and get the sand!” exclaimed Janet.

“Norma and you can drive Ben, and we girls will use the car to reach the place. Then all hands can shovel and fill the cart the sooner. We can then fill baskets or bags and put them in the car and bring them here to help out for the concrete work. By that time you can have Ben back at the pit again, and fill the cart a second time,” suggested Frances eagerly.

This was a very good plan and the scouts all approved heartily of it, especially so because it offered a possibility of sport. So Norma and Janet climbed to the seat of the cart and made Ben quit his feast on the luscious lawn grass.

Mr. Ames stood smiling while he watched the merry scouts jump into the automobile and call for Frances to hurry and get off. Then he turned to Janet who was chirping to Ben to make him go faster to keep up with the car.

“If you saw away at Ben’s mouth like that he will balk and never move a step. He knows a woman is drivin’ when you do that way, and he takes a mean advantage of you for it,” laughed Ben’s owner, as the two girls in the cart endeavored to inspire the easy-going horse with more ambition.

Then he turned to Mrs. James and said: “While I have to wait for that sand, Sam and I may as well begin placing the posts for the bridge ends. I brought my post-hole digger over this morning in case we had a need of boring holes in the ground.”

Mrs. James had never seen a post-hole digger at work, so she watched curiously while the wonderful tool bored the holes the required size of the posts. It worked after the manner of an augur, but it bored the hole in the ground instead of through wood. The holes were made so rapidly that Mrs. James was amazed, and Mr. Ames laughed at her expression.

“I don’t s’pose anyone brought the railroad ties I told you of the other day?” ventured Farmer Ames.

“Yes, Si Tompkins had them given him by the station agent who said he was glad to have them moved out of his way. He even offered to help get them over to the farm, as they had cluttered the ground ever since the new ties had been laid down a few months ago. So they were left by the fence just outside the front gate,” explained Mrs. James.

Ames and Sam then brought in several posts—or ties—and fixed them securely in the holes; earth and gravel were tamped down in the holes, and when it was well filled, the posts were as firm as if they had grown there.

Still no sight nor sound of the cart with sand could be had, so Mrs. James suggested that Ames and Sam help her build an artistic flight of steps from the clump of pines down to the place where the bridge would span the water to the first island.

As there were enough railroad ties for this purpose, as well as for bridge supports, Mrs. James felt that she need not stint herself in the use of them. So she marked out the line she wished the steps to follow. They were to curve gracefully down to approach the bridge indirectly, and not straight down from the high knoll of pine trees to the lake edge.

Sam and Mr. Ames cut out the solid ground where the steps were to be set, beginning at the bottom near the bridge posts. The ties were set for treads, the flat side facing upward and when it was fitted in place, Sam took it up again while Ames poured a smooth foundation of concrete on the ground. Then the log was replaced and pressed down to make the cement bite into the rough wood. At the final securing of each log, enough concrete was filled in back of it, to form a solid wall of cement when it hardened, and this made the basis of the back of the step, or riser, for the next tread.

As Mrs. James wanted the steps to be shallow in order to use the more and curve the flight more artistically before coming to the bridge, it was easier to build the concrete risers at the back of each log. The moment the two men had finished with a step, Mrs. James carried large stones and rocks to the spot and pressed them firmly in at the sides where the concrete oozed up and out, and these would not only keep the logs from loosening and moving out of position, but also help the rustic appearance of the entire flight. Back of these rocks she purposed having vines and shrubs to grow and droop over the rocks and ends of the logs.

The building of the picturesque steps took the rest of the afternoon, and when Mrs. James realized how late it was, with no report from the sand-diggers, she began to feel anxious about them.

Then, just as she ordered Sam to hurry away and learn what had happened to detain them, the car came in sight, far down the road.

“Oh, Jimmy! Such a time as we have had with that Ben!” exclaimed Norma, the moment the girls were within calling distance.

Mrs. James, Ames and Sam stood leaning over the fence, anxiously awaiting further news, but so many scouts wanted to tell the story that nothing could be made of the account. Finally Norma was appointed to tell the experiences, so she began.

“All the way to the sand pit that lazy Ben had to be coaxed and coaxed, because he kept turning his head backward to look at the lawn just as long as the place was in sight. Then he got a little pep into his ‘Amity Ketchum manners’ and gamboled for a little distance.” The laughter which greeted Norma’s description of Ben’s style of laziness interrupted her for a moment.

“Well, after all the scouts had been digging sand and filling every receptacle we had taken with us Ben arrived at the pit. We began filling the cart and soon had it full, but then he refused to start back. We coaxed and pulled and pushed with might and main, but all to no good. Ben just stood and balked.

“Then Janet got a willowy hickory and cracked him soundly to induce him to change his mind. He started suddenly and ran three paces, and as suddenly stopped short, almost breaking my neck, because I was driving. I was sitting on top of the sand heaped in the cart and at the sudden start and stop, a lot of the sand slid off the back of the cart, toppling me backwards with it.

“Of course, I let go of the reins and will you believe it! At the moment Ben felt the reins dangle about his feet he gave a jump that rolled more sand, and me with it right off the back of the cart into the road. Then he galloped on down the road with no one driving, or to stop him.

“Frances jumped in her automobile and started to speed after Ben. She never waited for any one of the scouts to jump in to help coax Ben back to duty again, but tore along the road until she had passed him and then turned to block the road with the car.

“Ben must have laughed in his sleeve—or whatever a nag uses for a covert laugh—when he saw Frances waiting for him. He stopped where he was, turned about so abruptly that the cart upset and almost threw him from his feet, too.

“Now there he was! The cart couldn’t right itself, and he wouldn’t budge again to try to turn it right side up. The whole side road was blocked by the cart and horse so that Frances could not pass the obstruction and come back for us to help turn the cart up again. So she had to walk back to call on us to go and help Ben out of his troubles.

“All the sand was dumped when the cart went over, so we led Ben back to the sand pit and filled the cart again. This time the horse made no attempt at balking, but started humbly along the road until we came out on the main road. He ambled slowly along and we were all rejoicing in the vain belief that soon we would be at Green Hill, with enough sand for you to work with, while we could return to the pit for another load.

“But Ben knew of a nice ford down by the wooden bridge, and before I knew that he intended turning down there for a drink, he had left the main road and was descending the steep bank. I tried to keep my balance on the sand pile in the cart, but the unexpected angle made me slide and I alighted on Ben’s broad back instead of remaining seated where I had been.

“A great deal of the sand slid out and fell into the stream, when Ben tilted the cart so sharply on the bank. I wish you could have heard those unsympathetic scouts laugh when they came up in the car and saw me straddling Ben and clutching on to his old harness for all I was worth!”

The scouts shouted with laughter at remembrance of the funny sight, and the three adults who had anxiously awaited the coming of the sand-diggers, also laughed heartily at Norma’s story.

“But that is not all, Jimmy! When Ben finished drinking he refused to go on again. We began coaxing and threatening again, but all to no avail. So there we were. I could not slide back to the cart because I would have fallen into the water. And Ben would not go on, because he liked the running water about his feet. The girls could not help us because the cart was pitched at such an angle that the least shove to urge Ben onward would have thrown it over again and perhaps thrown Ben and me with it.

“Suddenly Frances had a brilliant idea—or she thought it was. She drove the car across the bridge and then backed it down the other side of the ford until it reached the water. Then she carefully steered until it should reach Ben’s nose. It was her plan to tie a rope to Ben’s head and let the scouts in the back seat hold the leading hold. Then start the car up the slope on the side opposite Ben, and thus haul him across the stream whether he wanted to go or not.

“Well! Ben would not budge, but the car did. And both the scouts who held for dear life to the end of the rope in order to drag Ben along, were dragged half way out of the car and were left dangerously near to being pulled over into the water, but they let go of the rope. It had stripped the skin from their palms, and left Ben just where he had been before the attempt at coercion had been made.

“After a conference held with the girls in the car and me seated on Ben’s back eager to abdicate in honor of anyone who wanted my throne, Frances said we would have to use the chain and tackle which had been left in the box under the rear seat of the automobile. This could be hooked to the cart and then the cart would start through the ford, dragging the cart upon Ben’s heels so that he would have to move!

“Just as we had everything ready to give the signal for the engine to be started, Ben suddenly reconsidered his ultimatum and started through the water of his own accord.

“But the chain pulled the cart so far off his proposed trail that the rear wheel clutched with the rear side wheel of the car, and there we were, hard and fast, with Ben trying to go forward and only causing the wheels to lock the tighter. Frances had to get out of the car, into the stream, and get hold of Ben’s bit to try and back him again. Meantime I took advantage of my golden opportunity and jumped from my perch into the front seat of the automobile.

“Well, Jimmy! Had it not been for a nice good man who drove past in his runabout at this time, we would still be marooned in the creek. But, thank goodness, here we are with as much sand in the cart as could stand all this pitching and sliding.”

When Norma ended her tale, Mrs. James and her companions laughed heartily at the tricks played by Ben. Mr. Ames laughed loudest of any, because he understood his horse so well. But enough sand was brought in to supply the first mixture of concrete in the morning, and Mr. Ames promised to furnish a bait for Ben to prevent another such delay in carting more sand.

The next morning when Ames appeared with Ben and another cart full of manure for the lake soil, he also produced a feed bag of oats. “If Ben acts up again, just hold this bag under his nose and he will go for it. Don’t let him get any, but just tease him along the road until you bring him where he is to stop.”

“My goodness!” laughed Frances. “Do you have to get out and walk ahead of him when you are alone and he balks?”

“He never balks when I drive. He seems to know the minute a female gets hold of the reins and then he balks,” explained Ames.

So the scouts started for the sand pit again, but Ben was on his good behavior that day, and no one needed to use the oats bag under his nose to induce him to run. In fact, he was over-eager to reach the farm when the girls were ready to return, and all the sand piled up high on the cart was thrown off before the horse turned in at the side gate of Green Hill.

When Mrs. James took account of stock of sand, she said: “We will save time and labor by leaving Ben to mow the grass on the lawns, and use the baskets and the empty cement bags to bring in the sand in the automobile.” So another load was brought in that fashion, always carefully protecting the inside of the car by covering it well with old sheets and newspapers to keep it clean.

The concrete work of the dam was now finished and left to harden within the side walls of timber. Farmer Ames had made a door opening at the bottom of the wall so the water could be drained out of the lake at any time. Now he devoted all of his time, and thought, to the building of a good stout door for this opening, and had Sam help him build two grooves in which it was to slide. When this particular kind of work was finished, Sam was sent to the store at Four Corners for a heavy chain and rings, such as were generally used to hold a bull in the pasture lot. Ring bolts and screws and nuts had been brought from Ames’ own tool house that day. So that afternoon the sliding door of the dam was completed and hung so that it was readily raised and lowered at will. The heavy chain was secured to a sturdy chestnut post set in concrete at one side of the dam, and Mrs. James was shown just how to use the outfit that worked the door at the bottom of the dam.

While Ames and Sam had been making the door of the dam, the scouts had dug up various shrubs and plants in the woods and had planted them in groups about the lake shore. Mrs. James and Miss Mason had turned their attention to finding and digging up small pines, spruce and cedars, and bringing them to the garden where they were planted in the heavy metal pails and sunken in between the rocks on the islands, and at various places on shore.

Most of the planting and arrangement of rocks and other picturesque details was now completed, and all the following day was to be devoted to the construction of the bridges. For this purpose, the heavy planks that had been used in the molds for the concrete, were to be utilized for the flooring of the bridges. The largest planks for the longest bridge and the other shorter boards for the smaller and shorter bridges.

The rustic rails and decorative brackets for the bridges were to be made of knotty pine or cedar trees found in the woods.

As the next day would be Saturday, the enthusiastic lake gardeners were very anxious to have the work all completed and the water diverted into the lake proper, so it might fill up by Sunday, when Mr. Marvin and their parents were expected to motor to the farm for a short visit.

It was dark on Friday night, before the scouts could be persuaded to stop work and come in for supper. Rachel had called many times, that everything was being ruined by waiting so long for someone to eat supper, but such warning had no effect until night virtually halted all further work.

While talking eagerly, as they all sat about being served by the attentive Rachel, one of the scouts spoke of the time it would need to find proper trees and then cut them down and lop off the branches to leave a rustic effect on the trunks.

“What a pity we don’t know of a rustic furniture maker where we might be able to buy our material ready trimmed,” said Norma, thoughtfully.

At this suggestion, Mrs. James sprang up and ran over to her desk. She hastily scanned the pages of a Business Directory for White Plains, and then laughed joyfully. “I’ve found it!”

The girls waited eagerly for her to explain. “I’ve found the name and address of a man who builds rustic lawn furniture to order. He is located at North White Plains, and his shop is back of his home, so that I can telephone him now and find out if he can supply us with any such material as we want for our bridges. If he can, Frances can drive me over there early in the morning and we can carry back as much as will go in the car.”

“I’ll see to it that all we may have need of will go in the car, all right!” declared Frances, to the satisfaction of her audience.

Mrs. James soon had the man on the wire and told him what was needed at once, for the bridges. He replied that he had had a new supply of rustic wood delivered the day before, and he was sure that everything she desired in the way of posts for the hand-rails, large brackets to fasten to the supporting posts underneath the foot-bridge, and also all kinds of trim for the edges and ends of the bridge, could be found in the carload which came from the pine forests in Middle New York State.

This was such encouraging news that the scouts could not restrain themselves, and such a babel followed that Rachel ran from the room with both hands placed over her ears. When she reached the kitchen where Sam sat eating his supper, she said: “My sakes! Them scouts is enough to make me deef!”

CHAPTER XI
THE JOY OF GOOD CONSTRUCTION.

Mrs. James and Frances drove away from Green Hill early on Saturday morning and reached the manufacturer of rustic garden furniture before eight o’clock. The materials needed were quickly selected and purchased, and the man had his men carry it to a small auto truck and load it. He had expected to deliver it at the farm without delay, so Mrs. James said nothing about taking any with her in the touring car.

The man supplied the right kind of nails to be used on the wood, because he said: “You will find it difficult to drive ordinary nails through the resinous wood. But this kind of nail is made on purpose for such work.”

It took all day with every one working breathlessly, to complete the bridges and other work that remained to be done. But once the picturesque bridges were finished, and a few tubs of hydrangeas placed at each end of the bridges, they added so much to the beauty of the picture that no one begrudged the work they had caused.

“Well, gals! Are we ready to remove the temporary block we made at the spring to turn the water down the other way?” called Mr. Ames from the side of the spring where the ditch had thus far kept the lake hollow dry.

“Oh, wait just a minute!” cried Norma, as she hurriedly ran from one island to the other to make sure that the plants were well in the soil. Mrs. James and Miss Mason assured themselves that the water plants were safely planted wherever they had designed them to be. Then the footprints left in the white sand that covered the rich soil on the bottom of the lake site, were carefully raked out and patted down, as the three inspectors backed out and reached the steps that led down from the pines.

“Now—all ready! Let it come!” cried Norma, clapping her hands excitedly.

Sam and Ames now shovelled away the temporary bank of soil that had kept the stream from overflowing, and in a few moments the wooden gate which served as a dam for the spring, was hauled up and the water was allowed to find its own channel out over the smooth sand in the bottom of the depression.

Every one stood breathlessly watching, as the small stream of water trickled out over the glistening sand and began spreading in every direction. It seemed to take such a long time to dampen the sand before sinking down into the soil. But not a sign of water was to be seen and the scouts finally grew impatient.

“If you gals would only go off and attend to something else for the day, you’d be surprised when you come back tonight, to find what the spring has done during your absence,” advised Mr. Ames.

“Because ‘a watched kettle never boils,’” laughed Miss Mason.

“But there isn’t anything interesting to do!” declared Natalie.

“I know of a vegetable garden that has been neglected all week, and we need lots of food for tomorrow,” remarked Mrs. James.

“And I can tell of a camp where no work has been done since this absorbing water garden was started,” added Miss Mason.

“Don’t remind me of a barn yard where cattle are starving for lack of attention!” laughed Janet, starting away to do the chores required of a stock grower.

Norma alone remained after every one else had gone to their individual tasks, and after sweeping the log steps clean with an old broom that had been used about the lake, she walked slowly away from the fascinating scene, going backwards to be able to watch the trickling water from the spring just as long as she could.

Mr. Ames was hitching Ben to the cart when Norma reached the lawn. She stumbled in the rank growth of grass and said: “Mr. Ames, can’t you spare me a few more hours this afternoon, to mow down this hay? I can’t make the mower run through it, and it really is a shame to leave it this way for Sunday, when all the folks are expected from the city.”

“If I only had the scythe here I could stop and cut it, but it takes Ben so long to go home and back again.”

“I’ll send Frances over with the car—just wait until I ask Jimmy if it will be all right.” So saying Norma raced away.

Frances had already brought the car out of the barn in order to drive to the post office and bring Mrs. Tompkins back with the extra plants she had promised Norma and Mrs. James. So she willingly drove Norma to Ames’ farm to get the scythe. When the farm hand went to get it, he asked Norma:

“Do you want the single or double-handed blade?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Jim, so I’ll take them both,” was Norma’s answer.

On the way back to Green Hill, Norma explained to Frances: “I’m glad I took both, because now Sam can use one while Ames uses the other scythe.”

Frances laughed and replied: “We ought to have a dozen at work in order to get that lawn down to a decent growth again.”

“Leave all joking aside, Frans, don’t you believe Si Tompkins will loan us his scythe to use for a few hours? Ask him, anyway, and I’ll try my hand at it. I can swing it first class, Mr. Ames says.”

So Frances promised to do her best in coaxing the store keeper to loan her the scythe, although he had sworn never to let it go out of his hands again, as it always came back with nicked edges and broken end, so that it needed grinding anew at his expense.

When the car returned from Four Corners, Norma found not only a scythe and a hand sickle in the car, but Mrs. Tompkins had been able to secure a goodly sized mulberry tree with all the soil packed about the roots, and two smaller Russian mulberry trees. She also had several other desirable shrubs and trees for planting about the lakeside or by the fence that divided the pasture from the house garden.

Mrs. James and Norma assisted Mrs. Tompkins in planting the trees and shrubs and then Norma went over to help Sam and Mr. Ames in cutting the grass. Frances had brought the hand sickle for her own use, thinking it would be great sport to swing the blade as she had seen Ames do.

Norma soon had the trick of using the large scythe, but she had not the strength of muscle to swing it properly and prevent the blade from cutting in irregularly. Thus, when her work was finished the grass looked as if it had been hacked off by a dull-toothed rake, while Ames’ and Sam’s grass was evenly cut and trimmed.

“There now, Norma! I reckon you can run the lawn mower over this grass, all right,” declared the farmer, when the lawns had been cut down.

“We’ll try it before you leave,” retorted Norma, sending Sam for the mower without delay.

This time Norma found the lawn mower ran nicely and easily through the grass, cutting and tossing the tiny green blades in every direction. This was fascinating employment because it was quickly done and not laborious, so she kept on mowing long after Mr. Ames had gone, and Sam had been sent to milk the cow for the evening.

The three large lawns were mowed close that evening, before Norma was called to supper. Mrs. Tompkins had taken the scythe and sickle and was driven home again by Frances; the shrubs and trees the florist had brought to the farm made a fine showing as they stood outlined against the pale rose-tinted western sky.

So completely absorbed had every one been in the individual tasks assigned them that none had time to go and visit the lake and learn how much water had poured into the basin to make a showing for the morrow. But the scouts from camp came up to the house about eight o’clock Saturday evening and announced that they had come “to sound the depths of the sea.”

In another moment, every girl had scampered from the side porch and was running to the front of the house to have a look at the lake.

“Did you ever! The water has actually soaked through the soil at the bottom and is almost an inch above the sand!” exclaimed Norma, joyously, as she danced up and down at the revelation.

“Let’s see—how many hours did it take to do that?” said Janet, trying to figure out how much water they might look for by morning.

“You can’t judge that way, ’cause you don’t know how long it took to soak through the soil, nor how much water that soil displaces,” said Norma very wisely.

“Better let the water do its work while we curb our impatience about it,” advised Mrs. James laughingly.

“But do you think the water will be as high as the dam before the folks arrive, Jimmy?” asked Norma anxiously.

“I should say it will,” was Mrs. James’s guarded answer.

“Too bad we haven’t any goldfish to put in now,” sighed Janet.

“So your ducklings and goslings could feast,” laughed Belle.

“No, but I’ve got a big surprise for you all tomorrow when the lake is ready,” was Janet’s reply.

“I know! She has a gondola ‘boat-bird’ to sail about the lake,” teased Miss Mason, who had read the story of the “boat-bird” written about the East Side children of New York.

In spite of all the coaxings Janet refused to share her secret, but told them all to wake up early enough in the morning to see the surprise she had ready for them.

They all walked slowly back to the porch after this, and having had such a strenuous day’s work, no one objected when Mrs. James suggested that they retire early that night.

Unknown to the other girls, Janet had taken Rachel’s alarm clock and set it to ring half an hour before the usual time. The clock was placed under her pillow so its alarm, in the morning, would be muffled enough to prevent the other sleepers from rousing.

Hence she was up and out before any one else in the house awoke. And she had managed to get Sam out of bed, in order to have him help her in finishing the surprise she had planned for every one. Two very good and fanciful coops had been made by Janet, at odd times during the week, the trimming and fancy touches being of rustic woodwork similar to the trim on the bridges, the difference being that Janet’s trim was of wild grapevine that twisted and curled artistically and the thin bark of which made it look much daintier than that of cedar or pine.

Sam helped to convey these two elaborate coops from the barn over to the shore near the dam where the day before Janet had cleared two places and poured soft concrete over the ground to make a dry floor for the coops to stand upon. They were both delighted to find the water had filled the lake. Janet told Sam to go back to the barn with her and help carry the goslings and ducklings to their new palatial residences.

As the little fellows had been shut in since their evening meal, they were clamoring for something to eat when Janet and Sam reached the old coops. It did not take long to coax them into a box with a hole made in the cover, for the corn meal they sniffed inside the box made them fight to get out of the coop and into the boxes. They were then speedily carried over to the new houses where plentiful breakfasts of mush and cracked corn were spread in the little lath-fenced yards, and here they were left to enjoy life.

Janet and Sam stood back to watch what the little water fowl would do when they went prospecting outside of the coops. The breakfast kept many too busy for a time to indulge in any curiosity, but a few ducks wandered forth and went bobbing their heads towards the lake.

Janet tiptoed anxiously after them, and when the little ducklings launched themselves forth upon the surface of the water, Janet almost screamed with delight. They looked so pretty and were so in keeping with the entire scene that even Sam laughed and rubbed his hands with satisfaction.

“Dear me, I wish I could wait to see the geese go swimming, too,” cried Janet, longingly. “But I’ve got to run to the house and get the rest out of bed to make them come and see the lake!”

“I’ll wait here, Janet, and see dat no harm comes to our birds,” said Sam, sitting down on a stump to wait and watch.

“All right, Sam—I’ll be back in a little while. I’ll get the girls to come out to the pines on the knoll and there they can see the whole effect, with the fowl on the lake,” cried Janet, starting to run back the way she came by way of the barn.

“Why don’t you cross the bridge, Janet, and save time!” called Sam, wondering at her preference.

“Oh! So I can! I forgot all about that bridge, Sam!” laughed Janet, turning and running for the little bridges which had not been walked upon since the water began flooding into the lake. So Janet was the first foot passenger to cross them.

She reached the center of the large bridge and stood to have a look over the scene and see how her water fowl looked as they played about in the water at the lower end of the lake. The whole picture as it appeared from the pretty bridge, so filled Janet with joy and excitement that she couldn’t bear to lose another moment from calling her friends to come out and see the entire scene.

Soon after Janet had left the house, after rousing Sam, Mrs. James heard a strange sound in her sleep. As it was near her usual rising time, she awoke and turned over to listen. Her room was directly over the dining room so the windows overlooked the dam.

She sat up in bed with hearing strained, to determine what that unfamiliar sound could be when suddenly it dawned upon her that it was the water that fell from the top of the dam to the log and concrete base on the ground.

In another second, she was out of bed and over by a window. Then the sight that met her eager eyes was so beautiful that she drew in her breath suddenly with a gasping sound. She forgot the girls in her satisfaction over the demonstration made by the lake. It was so much more beautiful than she had pictured it would be, that it really seemed like a vision to her.

Then she remembered how delighted the girls would be to see this wonderful result of their labors and persistent work. So she ran and called Norma first, then Natalie and next Janet—but Janet was out and gone! Then she remembered what had been said about a secret surprise to be sprung on them that morning.

Norma and Natalie both rushed to the window at the same time, Frances and Belle following to take their places at the other window. For a few moments not a word was said because the four girls were so astonished at the beautiful view before them. Then there was a chorus of excited girlish voices, and Norma rushed away to dress and hurry down to the lakeside.

Janet came in before the girls were dressed and urged them to hurry and see what she had done to surprise them all. But Norma said impatiently: “Can’t you see how we are racing to get on our things! My fingers are so trembly I can’t button a single dud!”

Janet laughed and helped her fasten her clothes, then the two ran downstairs and out to the pines. Here the others soon joined them, and all stood gazing in rapt admiration at the sheet of water which was the result of landscaping—thus turning an unsightly marsh and briar patch into this most picturesque lake.

The girls crossed and recrossed the bridges, often stopping midway on them to gaze and admire, over and over again, the results of their work and planning. Janet’s goslings were fearless and swam about the lower end of the lake as if they had always lived beside the water and enjoyed its freedom. But the ducklings kept closer to the shore at first and seemed too timid to venture across the lake as the goslings did.

“Janet’s water fowl add the finishing touch to the picture,” said Mrs. James, as she stood beside the decorative coops and smiled at Janet.

“No, not the finishing touch, Jimmy, because the goldfish will add that!” declared Norma jealously.

Sam had been sent post-haste to Solomon’s Seal Camp to break the news that the water was overflowing the dam and the lake was wonderful! This had the desired effect, so that every scout in Patrol One was running up the woodland path before breakfast had been started.

The “Ohs” and the “Ahs” that came from the scouts from camp, and the repeated visits across the bridges to every place on the shores that they had had anything to do with during the week consumed more than an hour. Rachel had trailed about after the scouts as they visited the familiar bushes and shrubs, and walked up and down the flight of steps, or sat upon the bank smiling at the happy faces, until Sam came running across the lawn with dire news for his aunt.

“Aunt Rachel! Oh, Aunt Rachel!” gasped he, breathlessly, “Dat saucepan of milk what you put on the fire for cocoa done gone and run over and now it’s smokin’ and burnin’ to beat the band!”

Rachel’s two hands flew up above her head and she cried “Oh Laws-ee! And dis Sunday, too! And all dem folkses acomin’ to visit the place! And the hull house smoked and smellin’ like eberyt’ing! Oh, oh, oh!”

She had already started to rush for the kitchen by the time she had finished her lament, but she suddenly stopped and sent her nephew a look that should have gone to the marrow of his bones.

“Say, yoh Sambo! Ain’t you got sense enough to take dat saucepan of milk f’om dat fiah?”

“Suah I did, Aunt Rachel,” eagerly came from Sam, “but dat don’t remove all the smoke and smell from the house!”

However, the odor of scorched milk was all gone before the city visitors arrived that afternoon to spend an agreeable hour with their daughters. But long ere the city tourists reached the farm at Green Hill, every inhabitant at or about Four Corners had walked or been driven to the place on the road where a fine view of the entire lake could be had.

The scouts hovered around listening to the honeyed words of praise and admiration that came from the frank lips of the country folk, and many a farmer’s wife returned from that visit with minds firmly made up to do away with similar unsightly briar patches or marshy ground near their homes. Thus the landscaping that Norma and Mrs. James undertook to do had a corresponding good effect on many families about Four Corners, because they went to work to beautify hitherto ugly spots near their houses.

The Tompkins’ family were invited to remain to dinner that Sunday, as they had been so instrumental in helping the work along. The scouts of Patrol One were also persuaded to have dinner with their friends, and Miss Mason consented on the condition that they all be allowed to help with the dinner work.

Consequently Rachel did not find the dinner as much work as if she had had to prepare one for her own family, without the help the scouts gave. Natalie and Miss Mason went to the vegetable gardens to pull radishes and lettuce for salad, and there they saw enough green string beans large enough to gather for a vegetable for that noon’s dinner.

Frances and Belle drove over to Farmer Ames and persuaded him to kill two of his largest fowl for them to carry back to cook for a fricassee. This afforded enough chicken soup for the first course and the meat with dumplings added, provided plenty of meat. The string beans, young beet tops and new potatoes made a fine course; and the lettuce salad with radishes came next. Rachel made a large rice pudding the day before, and cooled it in the cellar. As she had intended sending half of it to camp for the scouts, she now had plenty for every one.

As was customary at these large gatherings, the table was set on the back lawn under the old apple tree, and the seats were made of wide boards placed across soap boxes, for the young folks to use, while the adults had chairs brought from the dining room.

The city relatives did not arrive until three o’clock and before that time the dinner dishes were all washed and out of the way, the Tompkins’ family had started homeward and the scouts of Patrol One had departed for camp. So the girls at the house had ample time to make elaborate toilets to receive their families.

When the visitors finally did arrive in several large touring cars, they were as astonished at finding a lake all made by their girls as the girls themselves could have hoped for. Every place on the farm was visited and discussed, from the two beehives to the newly mowed lawns. The transplanted trees, shrubs and wild bushes that stood along the fence by the field to supply the birds and bees with plenty of food were wondered at, but Mr. Marvin said he did not see how they could live after being interfered with in July. He believed they must be dug up in late fall, to be successfully transplanted.

“Oh, we expect them to die off after a time, but that won’t do any harm, for we will have had the effect of certain trees in certain groups and places, and we can easily supplant them with the same kind and size, late in the fall. All we need now is to coax the birds to nest in the houses and these food trees will bring them,” explained Norma.

“Besides, we have already chosen certain shrubs and trees in the woods to take the place of any that may die. We tied red flannel ribbons on them to mark them, and Jimmy wrote the class and other information on tags which we tied to their trunks in case the leaves are all off before we can dig them up,” added Janet.

“Oh! do you expect to visit the farm on weekends this fall?” asked Mr. Wardell, rather pleased at the idea of having Janet get a few days in the country every week.

“Week-ends! Why, Father! We intend remaining on the farm until all the fall work is finished,” declared Janet.

“You don’t mean that you will stay on after school opens?” was Mrs. Wardell’s amazed question.

“Why, certainly, Mother! We will have to stay if we intend prospering with our business, next spring,” said Janet.

Every one had crowded around the three speakers and now Mr. Marvin said teasingly: “Perhaps you will change your minds—once you get back to New York, and will not want to return to Green Hill next summer.”

The five girls gasped at such a ridiculous statement and Janet and Norma retorted at the same time: “Not come back! you haven’t the slightest idea of what we have at stake here!”

The adults laughed heartily at this answer and then Norma’s parents took up the catechism. Said Mr. Evaston: “What about school when it opens in the fall?”

“Oh, we are all going to commute to New York with Natalie. She has to stay here until snow flies, you know, to have everything in fine order for us next year.”

This seemed to amuse the elders still more than Janet’s remarks, and Mrs. Evaston said: “Haven’t you any regrets about leaving your fathers and mothers all alone in New York?”

Frances replied: “Our parents all have automobiles and whenever they are lonesome, Jimmy will be glad to have them visit us at Green Hill.”

Before the laugh this remark occasioned had died away, Janet added pertinently: “That’s a fine plan, Frances. We can make the adults pay board and room by the day, and make much more money than we are getting from us girls by the week, you know.”

Mrs. James flushed and interpolated with: “You will give your families the impression that I am mercenary, girls!”

But the prolonged laughter that followed Janet’s suggestion and Mrs. James’ discomfited reply must have reassured the hostess. Then Norma said seriously:

“Even if the other girls do go back to the city, in September, I could not leave so early, because Mrs. Tompkins says my bulbs, and roots and bushes that I expect to transplant this fall for next season’s growing, have to be in the ground before November, but not earlier than the last of October or they will rot.”

“And Sue! We have to remain to look after the cow just as long as the weather is warm enough for her to pasture outdoors,” ventured Belle.

“To say nothing of my pigs, Belle. I can’t go away and leave them half-grown. I must stay here and take care of them until they can be sold to the butcher,” added Janet.

That reminded the girls of Seizer, and forthwith the sad story of his early demise was told in pathetic words, but the city elders could not sympathize in such a loss and they smiled in an amused manner. Well for them that Janet did not see the smiles!

The discussion over the girls’ determination to remain at Green Hill until all outdoor work was impossible because of the cold weather, and their statements that they must return in spring to be able to proceed with their farm work, caused Mr. Marvin to laugh and make a suggestion that really bore fruit in after days.

“If these country life scouts stick to their farm work so seriously as they are now doing, they will drag us all from our lives as cliff dwellers in New York and land us on farms of our own at Four Corners.”

The very idea of such a preposterous outcome of their daughters’ present experiments, made the parents laugh heartily, but the girls exclaimed eagerly: “Oh, that would be splendid!”

Janet added laughingly: “Maybe we scouts will save enough money from our farm work to pay for the farms our families will have to live upon!” And the other girls laughed merrily at the very suggestion.

“Who knows!” Mr. Marvin said, still joking about it all. “I may be able to lay out Green Hill into small farms and sell them off to our girls for your future homes.”

“You couldn’t do better!” retorted Janet quickly.

“I choose the water garden for my farm site!” was Norma’s instant decision, causing every one to laugh at her funny choice of a farm.

Natalie now said very seriously: “You old fogies can joke and laugh all you like, but you don’t know the times you are all missing by staying in New York, while we are enjoying the farm.”

“If rosy cheeks and an over-supply of energy and vitality is a criterion of life on the farm, I will say that you girls certainly demonstrate the advisability of every one in cities moving out to farms,” laughed Mr. Marvin, looking approvingly at his ward’s healthy color and bright eyes.

“Not only that, but you all just wait until the season ends, and then see the money we will have on hand,” bragged Janet.

“I am so glad to hear it! Then you can repay me all the advance loans I have made to you, from month to month, since we opened an account on a farm allowance basis,” said Mr. Wardell.

The other fathers laughed appreciatively at his remark, for they had all had similar experiences with their daughters. But the scouts paid no attention to such suggestive words as repaying advanced loans for farm uses, and the elders refrained from starting to collect damages at that time.

CHAPTER XII
THE PIGEON COTE.

The pleasure of looking at the lake and enjoying its water falls and the water fowl that played about in the lower end most of the time, did not wear away in a few days, but the desire to constantly stand on the shore and gaze at the water, began to pall in a few days’ time. The scouts never ceased to love and appreciate the spot; and almost every evening the three girls from the village, the scouts from the camp, and the girls from the house, met under the pines to enjoy the cool of the evening on the lake shore.

Janet had added pigeons to her stock by this time, but they would not remain at Green Hill. The first day she allowed them their freedom, she watched with pleasure as they flew up in the blue sky. But then they made straight for Dorothy Ames’s farm where they had been reared.

Janet wailed and got Frances to drive her over to Dot’s house without delay. There were her pigeons strutting about with the others, and pecking deliberately at the corn on the ground. They were taken captives again that night and brought back to Janet.

In a few days she let them out of the coop again and again they flew in a bee-line for home. The girls laughed at this escape, but Janet was angry and asked Dorothy what could be done to keep them at home to attend to their business of raising a family.

Dorothy now made a suggestion that sounded well but it meant more carpenter work. “You might try a small cote for the different kinds, Janet, and see if they will stay if they have to keep house alone in pairs.”

Janet spoke of this idea when she returned to Green Hill, and Norma eagerly added: “Oh, that is just what Mrs. Tompkins told me today. She says we ought to have our pigeons separated from each other, because the pouters and fantails never agree, and the tumblers and the common pigeons always peck at each other and are dissatisfied in having to live together.”

“I suppose that means I must start a lot of carpentry work again, and build separate houses,” sighed Janet.

“No, Mrs. Tompkins showed me a cote she made for her ordinary pigeons, and it looked fine!” said Norma. “She took a big sugar barrel and after making separate rooms in it, had it mounted on top of a tall pine tree that had been blasted by lightning.

“Now I looked around our back yard, Janet, and I found a high telegraph pole that had been split off near the top. As no one uses it now for wires, or other needs, we can use it for a pigeon cote. I know just how to fix that barrel, and all you have to do is to have Frances bring one from Tompkins’ store. I asked him to save a good one for us and he said he would.”

“Well, that isn’t so bad, if you will make one cote, and some of the other girls make another, and so on, until I have enough ready for a dozen pairs of pigeons,” laughed Janet, relieved and optimistic once more.

Mrs. Tompkins said that the birds didn’t mind feeding on one common ground, and they even flew into the chicken yards to eat the corn that is scattered for the hens, but they object to living in the same quarters. “That is why they fly home again—to get away from their neighbors.”

“What snobs they must be!” remarked Natalie.

The girls laughed, and Mrs. James said: “It is because they never learned the Golden Rule. Maybe it will be our work to teach our pigeons to be socialists.”

“I’d rather build separate coops and let them live their lives their own way,” retorted Janet.

“Mrs. Tompkins says that once you get the female to set on her eggs and keep the male penned in with her until the squabs are out, they will never try to fly away again. But she often keeps hers in prison for months before they will start raising a family and settle down in their new home,” said Norma.

So the sugar barrel was brought home from the store and Norma began work on it exactly as she had been shown. Janet and the other girls assisted, and in a day’s time the cote was ready to be mounted on the old telegraph pole.

It had been partitioned off inside to make several coops. There were three floors in the barrel, and each floor was divided into two apartments. The doors opened outward so that no one door came directly in line with the others, and this was done to keep the birds as much apart as possible.

Perches and a running-board were placed at each door; and there were perches projecting out beyond each end of the “verandah.” Then a narrow roof was fastened over each door to keep the rain from beating in at the opening.

“If only we had a nice cone-shaped roof on the top of the barrel like Mrs. Tompkins has on hers,” sighed Norma, looking at the flat top of the barrel head.

“Girls! I have it!” cried Janet, jumping up and starting for the barn yard as if on wings.

The other girls watched her go and waited wonderingly until she returned with a large tin cone in her hands.

“There, I bet it will fit on top just as we want it to!” laughed Janet, inverting the cone and capping the barrel as if it had been made for it.

“What is it? Where did you get it?” questioned the curious girls.

“I remembered seeing it kicked about the harness room, and Sam said it was an old broken hopper that had once belonged to a feed chopper. The pipe and funnel are missing, so it was worthless to the old tenant when he moved away.”

Norma looked in the hole at the top and said: “We can cork it up with a bit of fitted wood, Janet.”

“Sam can do that to a dot, ’cause he loves to whittle,” added Natalie.

“We ought to paint the cote before it is mounted on the pole, Janet,” suggested Belle.

“I am sure we have enough paint left over from the bird houses to do this barrel,” was Frances’ idea.

So Janet ran down to the cellar and brought out the several cans of paint, with a little in each tin. “Not enough of one shade to go around, though,” said she, after examining the tins.

“Listen, girls! Let’s mix all the paints in one pail, and add enough turpentine or oil to thin it out as we need it. But keep the green paint separate to use to trim the cote and roof.”

“Sam has some brown-red paint at the barn that will do to paint the roof red. It will look better if it is a contrasting color from the trimming,” suggested Janet.

“All right, Jan, you run and bring the red-brown can while we mix these other paints together and see what color it makes,” said Natalie eager to experiment.

Janet went for the red roof paint, while her friends mixed the other paints thoroughly together, and then called on Mrs. James to bring them some oil and turpentine. She went to the kitchen catch-all closet and found the two bottles, then took them over to the busy girls.

“Don’t use much linseed oil, girls, as it will keep the paint from drying quickly. Turpentine dries almost instantly,” said Mrs. James, handing the bottles to Norma.

When the mixing was finished the girls were delighted to find that the tiny bit of russian blue in a can, the small amount of ivory black, the dab of scarlet, and the half pail of flake white paints made a soft grey almost like a dove’s tipped wings. This was applied to the barrel sides and bottom; and then Janet returned with the red-brown paint.

The cone was fastened to the top of the barrel and when it was painted no one would have known what it had been before it became a roof on the pigeon cote. Then the verandahs and perches and roofs over the doors were painted green, and the stakes that projected from the top and bottom of the barrel were also painted green.

“It will take until tomorrow to dry, girls,” said Mrs. James, when the painting was finished.

“Meantime, we are going to Tompkins’ store and see how soon we can get some more sugar barrels. This cote is so pretty it will be a decoration to our back garden,” said Janet.

“And when we go to the store, remember to get some more wire netting to nail these projecting stakes in order to keep the birds in their prison until the family is started,” reminded Norma.

When the cote was dry and the wire was fastened about it to keep the inmates from flying away, Sam was called upon to climb the long ladder and saw off the end of the telegraph pole, so the cote would be about twenty feet above the ground.

This was no trouble for him, for he had been sawing so much since the day he tried to square off the clothes pole that he soon had the high pole evenly sawed and ready for the cote.

Several heavy iron brackets had been secured at the store to insure the safety of the cote once it was on top of the pole. Then Sam climbed the ladder again and the girls hoisted the barrel cote up to him by means of a rope and pulley.

At last the nice-looking cote was up and it looked very good, too. Sam suggested that the old grey pole be painted a dove color but Janet discovered that there was no paint left in the can. Some one had kicked it over in their zeal to pull the barrel up to the top of the pole, and the remaining paint had trickled out upon the ground.

“Oh, that pole is near enough the grey color of the cote,” called Natalie impatiently.

“We can give it a coat of paint next year, if we think it will look better,” added Janet.

“But Norma wanted it to look good for the rest of this summer,” ventured Mrs. James.

“Yes, it is in my garden, and I don’t want any old things to ruin the appearance of my flowers,” admitted Norma.

“Why won’t a lot of vines look fine, if you train them to climb up the pole?” asked Belle. “I’ve seen the poles in country gardens covered with morning glories and other vines!”

“That’s just what I will do, Jimmy!” declared Norma, turning to her adviser for approval.

That same day, Janet brought home her prodigal pigeons for the fifth time, but this time two pairs of the ordinary kind were placed in Norma’s cote and left there to start housekeeping. When the ladder was finally removed and the girls stood smiling at the fine result of their work, and the way the pigeons would have to remain at home after this, Rachel walked across the grass.

“I’m wonderin’, Honey, how you-all is goin’ to feed dem birds, ef day is wired in dat away?”

The girls gazed at each other in blank astonishment, and Mrs. James had to sit on the inverted butter tub and laugh. No one had given a thought of how the birds were going to be fed.

Sam had started for the barn yard with the ladder, but he was suddenly recalled. He dropped the ladder to come back and see what was wrong, but Janet called out: “Bring the ladder with you.”

When he had rejoined the group, Rachel laughingly said: “Dese wise pigeon trainers done gone and forgot how to feed dem birds, Sam!”

Then her nephew laughed as loud and as long as Mrs. James had done. Still that did not solve the problem of feeding the pigeons, so Sam wiped his eyes and studied the cote from where he stood. Finally he made a brilliant suggestion.

“You hoisted dat coop like it was a fedder, and I don’t see what’s to hinder you f’om hoistin’ corn and feed to the roof and den yankin’ on the rope to turn over the tin what holds it. Let the cracked corn and other feed roll down onto the piazza floors for the pigeons to pick up.”

“That’s a great idea, but how about the drinking water?” demanded Mrs. James.

“Well, I dun’no about dat. Let someone else remember a great idee for dat,” was Sam’s reply, as if he had performed his duty in thinking of a way to settle the feed problem.

“Now that it is up and the birds living in the cote, I don’t see what else you can do except to leave the ladder against the pole and have Sam climb up twice a day to feed them,” remarked Frances.

“Water once a day, and feed night and mornin’,” said Sam, as if learning a lesson by memory.

“We’ll just have to leave it that way until I see Mrs. Tompkins and ask her what can be done,” said Norma resignedly.

“Do they only need corn while they are caged?” asked Janet anxiously of every one.

“Mrs. Tompkins said we had best give them the same sort of food they would get if they were flying about at liberty. They need grit and lime and sand mixed in a dish and placed where they can get all they want of it. We must sprinkle sand and gravel over the floor of the promenade, too, for them to scratch in, all they like. When the hen bird lays her eggs and starts brooding over them, the male bird will feed and care for her. As soon as the little ones are hatched we can remove the wire and let them have their liberty,” said Mrs. James.

“Suppose the pair on one floor of the house start a family, before the other birds think of it, and you remove the wire. They will fly away again, just as they did from the barn,” said Janet.

“We won’t take away the wire from the front of the coops unless all the birds settle down to raising their families. Only one pair of birds will be given their liberty at a time,” said Norma.

Several barrels were secured from Tompkins’ store after that, but the others were small half-barrel sizes which the girls preferred, because they would only have to have two families in one cote, and that would simplify the troubles of a flat owner.

The new cotes were placed upon much lower posts and poles, too, so the problem of feeding the pigeons while they were in captivity was easier to solve.

Sam had found a small American flag in the roadway one day, and this he stuck in the top of Norma’s large cote, where it flew patriotically and made the pigeons sit with heads on one side eyeing this emblem of their native land.

In about a week’s time after the first pair of pigeons were kept captives, Sam shouted one morning: “The lady bird done gone laid two aigs! Hurrah!”

The news was so thrilling that every scout in both the patrols had to climb that ladder and have a peep at the expectant mother, but the male bird scolded and snapped at their faces so daringly, that they really saw nothing after they had reached the top of the ladder. So each one came down again.

The day after Norma had finished her cote for the pigeons she began turning her full attention to her flowers, once more. Not that she had neglected them past all hope, but they had not been the sole ambition of her time during the extra diversions of water gardening and cote-building.

It was during the week that followed the parents’ visit to Green Hill, that Janet went with Frances and Belle for a visit to a distant farmer’s who advertised young squabs for sale cheap. Janet decided that it would be far easier to raise some other owner’s squabs than to try to keep enough pigeons on hand to hatch out the young birds at home.

When she returned from that shopping trip, she plainly showed that she had made a daring venture. Frances and Belle were hardly able to keep from laughing at what they knew, so Mrs. James said:

“Come, tell us what it is all about, Janet!”

“Well, I’ve gone and bought a ewe and two dear little twin lambs!” declared she, with the air of a king who can do no wrong.

“Oh, really!” exclaimed the two girls who had remained at home. “How cute they must be?”

But Mrs. James seemed concerned. “How can you take care of them, Janet? Are they grown enough to feed themselves?”

“Oh, no, but that is the cutest thing about them, Jimmy! You should see them follow the mother about and try to get a drink. She actually cuffs them over the ears when she thinks they have no need of more milk,” laughed Janet.

“When are they coming here?” asked Norma eagerly.

“The man said he would deliver them tomorrow morning. I only paid him for the squabs, Jimmy, as I had no money left. I wonder if you can loan me the price of the ewe and lambs?”

“Certainly, Janet. But do not neglect Susy now that you have a few new toys. Poor Susy went hungry this morning because you forgot all about her. So Sam gave her her breakfast.”

“Oh, my darling Susy!” cried Janet, turning to run for the enclosure where the calf was kept.

“All that endearment won’t do any good now, Janet,” laughed Belle.

“All the stuff you fed Seizer that morning did him more harm than good,” added Frances, hoping to impress Janet with her serious responsibilities.

The ewe and lambs arrived the next morning, and the man left them in the pasture lot with Sue, although neither member of Janet’s increasing family cared a fig whether there were lambs to gambol about the field or not.

Sam and Janet hastily constructed a shed and yard for the lambs and the ewe, and that night they were closed in to sleep upon the nice fresh straw.

In the morning, when Janet went to gather the new-laid eggs, she stopped to have a peep at the lambs. They were constantly running after the big ewe, but she kept out of their reach and slyly managed to dodge their every effort to get at her.

Janet hurried back to the house and reported on the ewe and lambs, then added: “They were blatting so pitifully I wonder if anything is wrong?”

Thereupon every one started for the barn yard to visit the lambs. Just as Mrs. James reached the fence of the enclosure, a harrowing sight was presented to the interested watchers. The ewe had slipped back and forth so many times to elude the lambs, and they kept jumping about to reach her and nurse from her, for they were hungry, when the old one suddenly turned and butted her solid forehead against the nearest lamb.

It was instantly flattened against the side of the shed, while the old ewe turned her attention to the other teaser. The butted lamb bleated such mournful cries that the girls felt like crying for it. While the ewe was dealing justice to the second little lamb, the first one managed to creep up unawares behind her and try to snatch a drink of milk.

The ewe then kicked lustily and sent the little wobbly thing sprawling out on the ground.

“Oh, you inhuman mother, you!” shrilled Janet angrily.

“Isn’t she horrid to her children?” added Natalie.

“We’ll just make her feed those darlings!” declared Norma, as she saw Sam crossing the yard, and beckoned him to come over.

When the story of the wicked mother had been told Sam, he said wisely: “Mebbe she wants to wean ’em.”

“But she just can’t, Sam, until they are old enough to feed themselves,” returned Janet.

“I’se seen lambs fed in a bottle till they was big enough to pick fer themselves,” ventured Sam.

“A bottle? Like a baby?” chorused the interested girls.

“Yeh, onny some bigger, ’cus a lamb wants more at one feedin’, you know.”

“Oh, that will be fun. Let’s send to Four Corners for the rubber nipples and the bottles,” laughed Belle.

The girls were so interested in this new idea that they left Mrs. James still watching the ewe and lambs, while they rushed to the house to ask Rachel questions.

“Have you got a big bottle that we can use to nurse the lambs?” asked Natalie, quite out of breath when she reached the door.

“We need two bottles, Rachel!” added Janet.

“How big mus’ they be?” asked Rachel.

“Oh,—how big, Sam?”

“Big nuff to hold about a pint each, Aunt Rachel.”

“I got some catsup bottles what hol’ a little more’n a pint a piece, Sam,” said Rachel.

“Them will do, where are they?” returned Sam.

“On the swing-shelf, down cellar. You kin git ’em,” replied Rachel, going back to her baking.

Sam soon produced the bottles from the cellar, and then said: “Now all you want is them rubber nipples.”

So all four girls accompanied Frances on a special trip to Four Corners to buy the nipples from Tompkins.

“But I only got one nipple left in stock, gals,” was Mr. Tompkins’ disconcerting reply. “You see, Four Corners ain’t had no baby fer nigh onto a year now and my old customer what used to buy them moved away in winter.”

“Well, we will take the one, and have to telephone to White Plains for more,” said Janet anxiously.

“I’d better drive there for more, Janet,” suggested Frances.

“Oh, yes, but we will take this one with us, Mr. Tompkins.”

While Janet was paying for it, she told Mr. Tompkins about the need for it. When he heard how the ewe refused to allow the twins to nurse, he said there was something wrong as he had never heard of a mother ewe who weaned such little lambs.

“I’ll run over this noon and see what ails her,” said Mr. Tompkins. “Meanwhile, you feed the lambs with a bottle.”

The girls found ample exercise and fun in trying to catch a lamb and feed it, but once the captive got hold of the nipple, it drank the bottle empty of milk without stopping. It would choke and sputter exactly like an infant, and this pleased the girls immensely.

By the time the girls had finished holding the frisky lambs securely, while another girl held the bottle in its mouth, they all had kicked shins from tiny hoofs, and their hands and faces were dirty from the nosing the lambs gave them. But this was considered awfully cute of the lambs, and the girls ran back to the house, when the feeding was over, to wash their hands and faces.

That morning the old ewe kept quiet and only moved when the lambs teased her beyond endurance. Then Mr. Tompkins came at noon, and the girls escorted him to the barn yard to hear him pass judgment.

“Why, that ewe will come down with milk fever if she don’t let them lambs nurse right off!” declared he, as he tried to get a grip on the ewe and examine her.

“Here, Sam! Sit on her head while we make these lambs nurse out this caked milk!” said Mr. Tompkins, as he held down the ewe until Sam got over the fence and did as he was told.

The lambs went to work hungrily, but the ewe resented it so that she tried to kick and butt, and finally Mr. Tompkins said: “Gals, I don’t believe she is the mother of these twins. Who sold you the three?”

Janet forgot the man’s name but she described the farm where he lived. “Why, the old rascal! He tol’ me himself, a few days ago, how his best ewe died leaving a pair of twins to raise by hand. And a crank mother lost her lamb and wouldn’t help out the starving twins! So he palmed them off on you to bother with, eh! Well, we will all go and get him and make him do what’s right!” threatened Tompkins furiously.

Frances got the car out again, and the girls, with Mr. Tompkins to act as their representative, started off for the farm.

After a time, Mr. Tompkins said: “Ain’t you drivin’ the wrong road?”

“No, we went this way, all right,” said Janet.

“But the man I mean lives the other way,” said Tompkins.

Just then a farmer’s wagon came in sight, and as the automobile came opposite it, Janet shouted eagerly: “That’s the man! He sold us the lambs!”

“Why he ain’ the man I was talking of at all!” said Mr. Tompkins, chagrined at his mistake.

The farmer pulled in his horses and began, before the girls could scold him: “I found my man made a mistake, gals. He picked the wrong mother for them twins. I never knew it until I found the other mother feverish, and then I saw we had a wrong lamb for her. I got the right mother in a box in the wagon and I’ll carry my other mother home with me.”

As this explained the whole trouble satisfactorily, the exchange was soon made and the little twins were quickly snuggled by their right mother, while the starving little lamb back on the other farm would soon have its own mother again.

Then Janet explained how the ewe had butted the poor little lambs when they wanted to nurse from her and how they got the bottles ready to care for the hungry little dears.

The farmer laughed and said: “If you think the mother had a temper because she butted the lamb, you ought to see what the real mother of these twins did to my man when he tried to make her nurse the lamb that was left behind. He was stooping to draw the lamb over to her side when the old ewe lowered her head and in another moment the handy man was assisted over the fence!”

After the family reunion of lambs and ewe, the twins grew like weeds, and were able to run about the field after the mother and be weaned in two weeks’ time. But all this belongs to Frances’ book which follows this one.

A strict account was kept of Sue’s expenses and the income from the milk and butter and cheese, also the skim-milk which Janet bought for the pigs and calf, and at the end of the two weeks, dating from the Saturday the cow arrived at Green Hill, a corporate meeting was held to discuss dividends and future expenses of Sue. The profit showed such encouraging signs of growth that the girls began counting how long it would take to pay off the borrowed money with which they paid for Sue, and then begin to have something left to divide between the stockholders.

When Janet heard how much the skim-milk had cost her in the past two weeks, she gasped. “Why, Jimmy! If those pigs go on eating like this, the pork will be worth more than two dollars a pound when fall comes.”

The other girls laughed, and Natalie said: “Then you ought to feed David and Jonathan more of my tomato vines and let them follow in Seizer’s steps.”

“Well, I am thankful I am not the sole owner of the cow, too. If we have to pay Nat for all the cabbages and turnips the cow ate when she got in the garden the other day, we won’t have any profits to divide,” said Janet, giggling.

“That’s an item I forgot to charge up,” said Mrs. James.

“But I am to be reimbursed in some way, for my loss, am I not?” asked Natalie.

As is commonly the case at large stockholders’ meetings, a disagreement on debts and dividends took place and after a long time given to explanations about how much Sue cost for keep and the income on her first product and the by-products, the meeting adjourned without anything definite having been decided upon.

During the second week of July, the eight girl scouts of Patrol Number Two attended a council meeting of the Solomon Seal Patrol One, at which they were informed that Headquarters in New York City had admitted the Patrols as a first-class Troop, and now the members could start an intensive drive to win badges and be awarded honors for the tests given in the handbook.

At this meeting, Miss Mason enrolled the eight Tenderfeet as scouts in regular standing, and immediately after this welcome information, the eight girls whispered eagerly to each other of individual plans for advancement. Then Frances declared herself aloud to all present:

“I take this occasion to let you all know that henceforth you shall not know me as a jitney conductor, because I have decided to take up other lines as well. Not that the car is going out of commission—far be it from me to allow Amity Ketchum to again resume dominion over Four Corners’ helpless travellers—but I am going to study insects and the birds, this summer, and take tests.

“I have watched many insects and find they are so very interesting, and there is so much to learn about their habits and lives, that I believe they will afford me plenty of pastime and, if I write down everything I discover, just as Janet told her stock story in the diary, I can give you scouts many entertainments.

“Besides the insects, I find the birds about this section of Westchester are very wonderful and rare for the usual temperate climate. One of the old natives at Bronxville, where Belle had me drive her the other day in search of a Colonial cupboard for sale, said that very few sections of the Northern States could boast of so many tropical birds as nested about the woods in the immediate vicinity of Bronxville. Yet they seldom went farther North than that line, and seemed to keep within a definite line all about that section.

“Belle planned to study bird-life at first in connection with her antique research, but she believes forestry and art will combine better with her special line of business. Then, too, Belle likes domestic science, and will follow that as a recreation.”

When Frances concluded her speech, the scouts applauded and Mrs. James said, smilingly: “Belle ought to speak now.”

Belle jumped up instantly and remarked laughingly: “All I can say is that it will be wise for you scouts to keep on good terms with me, after I have experimented more with my domestic science; as I can either treat you well with my finished products or kill you off with heavy biscuits and doughnuts, if you make me an enemy. That’s all.”

When she sat down, the scouts laughed heartily and Janet swore friendship from that moment on, in order to insure her life, she said.

The Captain now said: “If there is nothing more to take up for discussion, we will proceed with the scout exercises.”

Then Janet jumped up and called for attention. “We have a most important matter to discuss but we cannot plan or talk with Jimmy and you present. Now, which shall we do—adjourn this meeting in order to discuss our own business, or excuse you two undesirable attendants until we have concluded our conference?”

Miss Mason laughed and retorted: “I am not accustomed to hearing so frankly that my company is not wanted, so I shall leave without asking to be excused.”

Mrs. James took the Captain’s arm and nodded her head approvingly, as she added: “Them’s my sentiments, too.” And the two departed from the Council but every one knew what the topic of general interest was.

As the two ladies walked slowly away, the Captain turned and called out: “Plan all you like, girls, but don’t spend any money on our double birthday!”

Corporal Janet tossed her head at that, and beckoned to the scouts to draw closer so they could confer without a word being heard by the two principals in the case.

“First, I want to know how many have thought of a novel idea for entertainment at the party on the sixteenth?” asked Janet.

So many girls raised a hand that Janet laughed, and then said: “We’d better begin at this end and go right around the circle. Even if one of us hasn’t thought out a finished plan, our general discussion may launch something that will be an improvement on someone else’s suggestion. Now you begin, May.”

“My idea of entertaining the Captain and her Lieutenant was this: To invite all the people about Four Corners to a Scout Council and entertain them in ways that will show them how valuable scouting is. I have thought of many ways in which we can entertain strangers, and at the same time, advertise our scout organization.”

“That’s a good idea, May, but would you include every one about Four Corners, without reservations?” asked Janet.

“Of course! How could we discriminate?”

“I was thinking of Amity Ketchum—would you invite him?” teased Janet.

There was a general murmur of dissent at this and May had to brave the flash of many eyes as she said: “Even our enemy, for he needs something good and intelligent more than any one I know of.”

Several scouts applauded this sentiment, and Janet continued: “What are some of your ways for entertaining, May?”

“There are so many, it is hard to decide on any—there are the stars to talk about; the wildwood vegetation to describe and its uses demonstrated; the signs and signals and blazes of scoutdom to illustrate; demonstrating how a scout camps—pitches tent, digs latrines, makes fire without matches, finds bedding from the trees, etc.; and many other vastly interesting things, besides doing our exercises applied to various needs.”

“Let the Troop Scribe make a note of this plan, as it sounds good to me, eh, girls?” was Janet’s decision.

“Yes, indeed, it is!” they chorused.

The second scout was one who had not been able to think of any novel plan for the birthday party, but when she heard May’s idea expressed, she was able to amend the motion by saying: “Why not make a full afternoon and evening of the entertainment, and invite Four Corners to the woods for our share in teaching them scout life, and then let them invite us to the village school-house for the evening, where we can give a regular party with ice cream and lots of Belle’s domestic science cakes?”

Every one laughed at the last suggestion but they also approved of it. Janet then offered the suggestion for debate, and finally it was decided by the “yeas” that were it possible to interest enough Four Corners’ folk, the three village scouts of Patrol Number Two would be delegated to ascertain all about the hiring of the school-house for the evening of the sixteenth.

Norma sat next to the girl who amended May’s motion and now she said: “My party plan is very simple in comparison to May’s, as it was an idea to go for a fine long hike in the woods and take along enough floor and cooking needs to have a gypsy dinner in the woods. I thought we could spend the day and return home at evening and celebrate at the house with singing and games.”

“Sounds inviting, Norma, but who will keep awake to sing and play in the evening after a long day on the hike?” was Natalie’s query.

The scout next to Norma now amended the proposition with: “Why not ride somewhere and play gypsy when we arrive there? Then we won’t be so weary with walking and can sing or play as Norma suggested, when we come back home?”

“We all can’t crowd in the automobile,” said Frances.

Then the girl next to the first amender spoke up and said: “My idea was very similar to the one just announced, but I had thought of using several farm wagons, such as Ames has, and filling the bottom with straw for a straw ride to the hills.”

“That, too, sounds alluring, so we will have the scribe jot that amended plan down for future consideration,” said the Corporal.

The next two scouts had thought of gathering together at Solomon’s Seal Camp and having refreshments and games. But these ideas were not approved, so the turn came to Natalie to speak.

“Well, I must say, that it is disappointing to be in the last row of spectators at the death of the fox,” began she laughingly. “Here am I with as good a plan as the others, but it has been minced up by the girls who proposed and those who amended the others.”

The scouts smiled sympathetically—or at least, those girls did who had not yet spoken. Natalie continued:

“I planned for a morning of hiking in the country; coming home to a fine dinner out on the lawn under the trees, then a general council and other gathering at Camp, with our relatives in attendance, and an evening given over to whatever form of fun we all decided on. I thought the supper could be served at camp for all who came.”

“Jot that down, Scribe, for discussion,” said Janet, turning to Frances who came next.

“My idea was along the same lines, but I thought to ask Mr. Marvin and a friend of his who would have a touring car, to drive out from the city and take us all for an auto trip in the afternoon, and then we would invite them to sup and an evening’s entertainment in return,” explained Frances.

Janet turned to the Scribe and said: “Add to that last memo ‘Frans says call for two autos from Marvin.’”

Belle’s turn came next and she said, languidly: “I never got past the idea of baking a huge birthday cake with two great wax candles on top of it.”

This idea caused a laugh, and Janet approved it at once. “We won’t need to discuss that, Belle—it is decided upon that you bake the best and largest cake Rachel can accommodate in the oven, and decorate the frosting so elaborately that the two monster candles will look all the funnier on top of it.”

Two of the scouts had ideas for each girl making an individual gift and presenting it at a Council held in the afternoon. Janet amended this to the giving of gifts made by the donor, to be held in the evening.

One of the scouts had a plan for giving an amateur performance, the play to be written by one of the members, and the acting to take place in the woods with natural scenery.

“That’s fine! We might try Hiawatha or a play written along such lines. We must get our heads together and invent a new play something like Hiawatha, so we can use the stream and the tent and the clearing in the acts. The play can be part of the afternoon’s entertainment to the Four Corners’ people,” exclaimed Janet eagerly while the other scouts all felt agreed on the suggestion.

The next scout had conferred with her neighbor and had agreed to write the play with her. So she was put down as the playwright. The rest of the girls had simple plans for entertainment that would fall in line with the greater ones, but those already jotted down were now discussed thoroughly, and a programme made up for the time being. This would be revised as necessity called for. When more than an hour had passed by and the Captain, with her Lieutenant, returned to camp to find all the scouts’ heads close together still, the former called out:

“Council is adjourned for the day!”

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Transcriber’s Notes

1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling.

2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.

3. The Table of Contents was not present as originally published.

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Table of Contents

- NORMA: A FLOWER SCOUT

- I—Norma’s Letter Home.

- II—MRS. TOMPKINS COACHES NORMA.

- III—AN AUTOMOBILE IS DONATED.

- IV—BUILDING BIRD HOUSES.

- V—MIGNONETTE AND CHRYSANTHEMUM.

- VI—FLOWER DAYS AND LEGENDS.

- VII—THE ROCK AND WATER GARDEN.

- VIII—THE RAIN INTERFERES.

- IX—VARIOUS UNDESIRED TASKS.

- X—THE WATER GARDEN COMPLETED.

- XI—THE JOY OF GOOD CONSTRUCTION.

- XII—THE PIGEON COTE.

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE