Part 8

Stung into effort Pat with feverish haste did as he told her. Securing her hold on the branch by locking her strong legs about it she gradually swung around until she was astride it. Then it was but a moment's work to edge along to the bank. Grasping the strong roots of the undergrowth she pulled herself to the top. She wanted dreadfully then to throw herself down upon the ground and cry, but a sharp noise below made her turn suddenly.

Garrett had attempted to lift himself upon the branch. Strained by Pat's weight, under his it snapped off, dropping him back into the water.

"Garrett!" screamed Pat. In agony she watched for his head to reappear at the surface of the water. As he came up he again caught the edge of the ice, but his face was gray and drawn as though by sharp pain and his breath came and went in short gasps. She called him vainly over and over but he could not seem to muster enough strength to answer! She fancied, in her terror, that his fingers were slipping in their hold of the ice.

It was _her_ turn to direct!

"Garrett, move down! See, the tree's across the ice! Maybe it'll hold! Oh, Garrett, _try_!"

With a slow, cramped movement he worked along the edge of the rapidly enlarging hole until he could grasp the broken branch which stretched now across the dark water, one end firmly held in a crack of the ice where it had buckled near the bank. Strengthened by desperation, Garrett managed to crawl along it until he reached the bank. As, numbed by exposure, he struggled to lift himself up the steep side of the gorge, clinging for support, as Pat had done, to roots and branches, repeatedly slipping back, it seemed to Pat as though he could not make it! At last her own frantic hands dragged him over the top to safety, only to have him drop in an unconscious heap at her feet!

All Pat knew was that whatever she had to do she must do quickly! Loosening the straps of her skates she threw them from her! Then she attempted to lift him. He was too heavy--she could not stagger a step with his weight in her arms. So as gently as she could she dragged him over the soft snow to a higher point of open ground from which she could see the lake and the skaters and the farmhouse!

"Girls! Girls! Jim!" she called frantically. They could not hear--only the echo of her own voice answered.

"What _will_ I do?" she cried. She tore off her bright tam-o'-shanter and waved it high in the air! Suddenly she saw one of the girls detach herself! from a group of skaters and wave back!

An inspiration seized Pat! The semaphore code she had learned! Oh, could she remember it quickly enough? And poor Garrett himself had taught her! Snatching off her sweater she waved that in one hand and her tam in the other and slowly signaled:

"Accident--bring bobs--blankets--quick!"

It seemed to Pat as though they would _never_ answer! She waved her message again--more slowly! Then one of the boys waved back: "Coming."

_Now_ Pat began to cry--tears that left cold streaks on her own cheeks and splashed in a warm shower on Garrett's face as she knelt over him. He slowly opened his eyes and whispered, "All right, Pat?" Then, as though very tired, he closed them again and lapsed back into unconsciousness.

There was no more merriment at Hill-top! The boys brought Garrett, wrapped in blankets, on one of the bobs to the door of the farmhouse where his mother, warned of the accident, awaited him. No one would let poor Pat tell her story--there was too much to be done! While Mrs. Lee and Sheila cared for Garrett, the girls gave Pat a hot bath and a vigorous rub and put her to bed. And Jim Archer flew to the nearest telephone to summon a doctor and nurse from the city.

Garrett was very, very ill! Weakened by the exposure and strain he quickly developed pneumonia. The doctor would not let him be moved, he must remain at Hill-top! Mrs. Lee, brave with all her anxiety, begged the boys and girls to go back to the city quietly, not to worry, but to hope for Garrett's quick recovery! Sheila and Jim Archer she kept with her to help her. At the earliest possible moment came Mr. Lee with a trained nurse.

Pat, none the worse for her icy bath of the day before, lingered behind the others and miserably begged for a parting word with Mrs. Lee.

"It was _all_ my fault," she whispered, bursting into tears. "I called him a fraidy-cat and went on, just so's he'd follow----"

Though Mrs. Lee took the girl in her arms, her face was very grave. But she guessed the suffering in Pat's heart, so she spoke kindly.

"Child, I am glad he _didn't_ leave you! You must help us fight for him now and--well, he just _must_ get well!" For a moment she could not keep her own tears back; then she resolutely wiped them away as much as to say, "_this_ isn't fighting!"

Anxious days followed. Every morning and every evening Jim Archer telephoned to the Everett home from Hill-top a report of Garrett's condition. Sometimes there would be a word of encouragement--then he would be a degree worse! Pat, pale as a ghost, scarcely speaking to anyone, trembling at every sound, in spite of all Aunt Pen's and Renee's efforts, refused to be cheered or comforted! She spent almost all her time in the Eyrie with the door locked.

"I'm downright worried!" Aunt Pen said to Pat's father, who fortunately had returned in the midst of the trouble and anxiety. "_Whatever_ does the child do in that room all by herself?"

No one would ever know! In the most shadowy corner of the Eyrie Pat had crept and there she had found strength to bear the suspense! Kneeling before one of the old broken chairs, she repeated over and over a little prayer she had made:

"Please God, make Garrett well! He was so brave and I was so wicked! I'm the one you ought to punish! Please make him well and I'll never, never be wicked again!"

Sometimes she would vary the wording of her little prayer and once, thinking that perhaps her clumsy sentences might not reach the Father's ear, she carried a prayer-book to the Eyrie and slowly, with great emphasis, repeated the prayer for the sick that she had often heard in church.

Going downstairs from one of these vigils in the Eyrie she heard Sheila's voice. Her heart stopped beating with an instant's fear! She rushed into the room where Sheila was talking to Aunt Pen and her Daddy.

"He is----" She could not make herself ask the question.

Sheila turned. Her tired face was bright with joy. "Garrett's better! He will get well! We didn't telephone because I wanted to tell you! I had to come home, for mother needed me."

"Really, truly?" Pat could scarcely believe that the black shadow was lifted from her. Sheila nodded laughingly.

"Really, truly! The doctor says he has a wonderful constitution! And we're all so glad, because we love Mrs. Lee so much!"

With quivering lips Pat turned and threw herself into her father's arms. There was so much she wanted to tell--of her silly vanity, her wicked recklessness, her leading another into danger, but the words would not come!

"I'll always remember--how he looked--up on the bank!" she shuddered, her face hidden against her father's coat. "I asked God to make him well and He did, and I guess I'll remember never--to be--wicked again!" And as though he understood how truly repentant poor Pat was, her dear Daddy patted her shoulder and held her very close.

*CHAPTER XVI*

*GOOD TURNS*

The winter days passed quickly in the Everett household. Each moment was filled with work or play. And so delightfully intermingled was the play with the work that the girls found themselves tackling their Latin verbs with the same zest they threw into their outdoor recreation.

In spite of the holidays and the suspense of Garrett Lee's illness the routine of Aunt Pen's "school" had been renewed with little difficulty. Pat, who always before had been very indifferent to the report system followed at Miss Prindle's, suddenly developed deep concern and pride in the reports that Aunt Pen carefully prepared at the end of each week to show Daddy and then tucked away in the spinnet desk to wait mother's return. She was improving in her Latin and her French; she could write a letter now with only one or two misspelled words; she tackled the difficult problems in Algebra in a fine fighting spirit, and with great pride--after many mortifying failures--was able to set before her father three beautifully browned loaves of bread!

Daddy had declared that such triumph must have its reward and had carried them all--pupils and teacher--off to the theatre to see "Penrod."

The Eaglets still gathered in the Eyrie. How much nearer each was coming to her ambitions no one of them could tell--that they were still steadfastly true to their pledge to help one another was certain; unconsciously perhaps, they did it by the strength of their friendship.

"LaDue and Everett" had developed a thriving business. Pat, quite all by herself, had gone to Brown Brothers, the leading bookstore in the city, and had sought and obtained an order for hand-painted valentines. This had given her courage to approach Miss Higgins and a nearby Gift-shop. Very proudly she presented the three orders to the senior member of the firm.

"There, I guess _that'll_ make us work!"

At first Renee was aghast at the amount of work, but with Pat to help her and by steady application--although Aunt Pen was firm in her command that the work must not interfere with the outdoor play--she was able to complete the orders by the first of February. And so beautifully had the little valentines been made that Brown Brothers immediately ordered ten dozen dinner cards!

The rush of business set Pat at the company's books which had gotten into such a muddle that they had to be taken to Daddy to be straightened out. Pat's figures were like a Chinese puzzle running up and down the pages of her imposing ledger. Poor Mr. Everett had a knotty problem putting them into proper shape and Pat had a lesson in accounting!

Altogether, after all expenses had been paid, there was left to the account of the youthful firm a sum of eighteen dollars and fifty cents. Two-thirds of this, Pat declared, must be Renee's, because the responsibility of the work fell upon her--"though I'll just say it isn't any fun getting up your nerve to go in and ask for an order! They always treat you like a kid!" she explained, indignantly.

There were many demands upon their earnings. The scout uniforms had been bought; the girls each pledged six dollars to the Victory Army; there was the Red Cross, too, and the French Babies and the Vacation Fund for the tots at home--innumerable other good causes, worthy of their help.

"It makes me feel so grown-up to sign my name to all these pledges and things and pay for it out of my _very_ own money!" And Pat assumed a comically mature air.

Pat was a real "Yellowbird" now and Renee was a "scrub." The girls had joined a swimming class, too; Pat, having spent many summers at the seashore was like a fish in the water, and helped Renee, who had to overcome a physical terror at the very thought of slipping over into the tank!

Early in February Garrett Lee was brought back to the city from Hill-top. Pat, with Aunt Pen, had immediately gone to see him and his mother. Mrs. Lee's kind welcome drove away the fear that had teen in Pat's heart; impulsively she threw her arms about Mrs. Lee's neck and, because Mrs. Lee could always see straight into the hearts of her boys and girls, she knew what prompted the caress and gave an affectionate hug in return.

"Garrett doesn't want one single word ever said about it all," she whispered in Pat's ear.

After that Pat went almost daily to the Lee house--sometimes with a book, or a basket of fruit or some home-made candy. At first she was a little shy in her friendly devotion, but after a while, so truly grateful did Garrett seem for her company and the things she brought to relieve the monotony of his convalescence, she simply rang the bell and ran straight up to his room. When these frequent visits interfered with lessons Aunt Pen said not a word, for she knew Pat was trying to make up in some small way for the harm she had wrought!

As Garrett grew stronger the young people deserted the Eyrie for the pleasant Lee living-room. "It does him more good than a trip to Florida!" his mother declared, looking with satisfaction at her patient. And the boys and girls were learning thoughtfulness and considerateness. When Peggy, of her own will, suddenly lowered her voice, and Jim Archer, without a word, shoved a pillow back of Garrett's head as he sat on the old divan, Mrs. Lee had thought--hard as it had been--Garrett's illness had brought some good.

Pat had never known before the wholesomeness of jolly comradeship with a large circle of boys and girls; she found it now in these pleasant gatherings at the Lees. Bob Slocum and Peggy could think of so many games; Jim Archer--all in one afternoon--had composed, staged, and produced a melodrama, "Heinie the Hun," although, because Pat could not control her giggling, the irate author-manager had made her play the drum to mark the dramatic climaxes. There were endless and lively discussions over everything under sun and earth; jolly songs with Mrs. Lee at the piano, and always some careful eye to notice when Garrett showed signs of fatigue.

And to Pat the best of all was when Garrett, one afternoon, had confided to her that he was planning an airship with a new kind of stabilizer; showed her his drawings and explained how, for days since his illness, he had been studying a housefly which he had caught and imprisoned in the old fish bowl. Pat wanted very much to tell the others what great things Garrett was going to do but he had made her promise on her scout's honor to keep his secret, so she carried it faithfully locked away in her heart, proud that Garrett should have honored her with his confidence after the unhappy accident at Hill-top!

"We're _pals_--just's if I was a boy," she said to herself.

As the weeks slipped by Renee, to Aunt Pen's delight, was rapidly developing a fascinating and forceful personality. With so many true friends and playmates the shyness had gradually disappeared from her manner; contrasted with Pat's dynamic spirits Renee would always seem quiet, but her will was strong and often, in her gentle way, she was a leader among the young people. With a character that had been moulded and guarded by a simple life, she had in her a rare beauty and purity of thought that seemed to shine in her pretty face and clear eyes. Happiness and healthy living were dispelling the shadows from her young life; she could talk of Susette and the old cottage without a quivering of the lips; she often drew for Pat, as though she enjoyed it, a vivid description of how splendid Emile had looked in his uniform as he had marched away with the others--a rose she had given him stuck jauntily in his belt!

The cessation of the fighting and the approaching peace had brought many problems. Wounded men were coming home, employment was uncertain, living expenses soaring higher and higher; actual want stalked in many homes. And to add to it all a terrible epidemic had raged through the city, leaving in its wake untold misery and suffering.

There was serious work for everyone to do. There were countless ways in which the Girl Scouts helped. "Good turns," they called it and they held themselves always ready for the command of any organization, never counting one moment of sacrifice, tireless and faithful.

"What do you think now?" Pat burst in upon her family from a special meeting of the troop. "The Scouts are going to adopt families!"

This astonishing announcement caused Mr. Everett to throw up his hands in mock dismay.

"Good gracious, Pat, black or white?"

"I'm really very serious, Daddy, and Mrs. Townsend from the Red Cross says we can make it a beautiful work! One family is assigned to each of us. We give as much time as we can spare and do everything we can--amuse the children, take 'em out, make things easier for the mothers so's they can rest and get strong again! You see these are families that have been sick. Mine is Mrs. K-a-s-u-b-o-w-s-k-i," she read from a card.

Pat had, in her way, expressed the scout orders. To each of the older scouts had been assigned a family that had suffered from the epidemic. Each girl was to work under the direction of the District Nurse and in cooeperation with the Red Cross. She was to give brief reports of each visit. And knowing that these girls could, in the homes to which they were sent, win trust where older women often met suspicion and unfriendliness, the Red Cross hoped to build up through their services, a sympathy and understanding that would benefit everyone and draw more closely the bonds of common interest.

In her youthful mind Pat did not sense any such vision; she only knew that her scout orders directed her to go and do all she could for a family whose name she simply could not pronounce; that her card stated that there was a Rosa, aged seven, a Josef, age six, a Stephanie, aged three and a baby Peter; that everyone of them had been desperately ill, including the father and mother; that only within the last two or three weeks had the father been able to go back to work and that upon the poor mother, still weak from the ravages of fever, had fallen the burden of making the meagre savings tide them over.

Pat called them all her "Kewpies." Her first two visits left her discouraged, the children were dirty and quarrelsome, the mother unfriendly. But, gradually, armed with picture books and toys, Pat won the liking of the little ones; at the next visit she gave them cakes of soap which Renee had carved to resemble dogs and pigs and promised them more if they would use these "all up"; warm sunshine permitted a long walk and outdoor play and Mrs. Kewpie, gratefully realizing that for an hour she was absolutely without chick or child, caught a much-needed moment of rest!

Renee had not been given a family by the Red Cross. At first she was disappointed, then, wholeheartedly, she fell to helping Pat. Aunt Pen and Daddy, too, were deeply interested. Almost every evening the "Kewpies" were discussed at the "pow-wow." Aunt Pen was aghast that Mrs. Kewpie could speak only a word or two of English!

"How can she be expected to bring up good American citizens--let alone be one herself?" she asked heatedly.

Through Rosa Pat learned that poor Mrs. Kewpie would really like to talk and read English. Her husband had learned it at his shop, the older children were learning it at school; less and less they were talking the only language she had ever known! She felt, with the quick instinct of her mother's heart, that they were growing away from her into a world of interests where she could not follow. No one had ever offered to teach her this new, strange tongue! She was afraid of the teachers in Rosa's school! She misunderstood and resented the approaches of the few English-speaking women she had met; proud herself, she had thought them patronizing and officious! But Pat was just a girl!

So Pat, quite unconsciously, began making a good American citizen out of Mrs. Kewpie. She found that the picture books she brought the children interested the mother, too--not because of the pictures alone but because the mother could make out, through them, the meaning of the words beneath them. When Pat told of this at home Aunt Pen thought of the beautiful plan of making for Mrs. Kewpie a primer out of pictures. Every evening, for a week, the entire Everett family worked industriously with scissors and paste, compiling what Aunt Pen laughingly called: "Everett's First Lessons in the American Language."

"She'll know all about this country of ours when she's graduated from _this_ book," declared Mr. Everett, proudly smoothing down a colored picture of the Capitol at Washington.

"And for everything I teach her in English I'm going to ask her to teach me a word in Polish! It's such a funny looking language and then it _sounds_ like music! They have lots of awfully exciting stories in their history--Keineth Randolph told us some that her father had told her! And in the next book, let's have pictures of flowers and mountains and water and things like the country, 'cause I guess poor Mrs. Kewpie thinks there _aren't_ such things!"

Prompted by this thought on her next visit Pat carried to the Kewpie kitchen a pink geranium plant. Then she conceived the idea of making the untidy kitchen look as much like Mrs. Quinn's as possible! So interested did she grow in her work that for two afternoons she completely forgot basketball practice, thereby bringing down upon her head the fury of the Captain of the Yellowbirds!

And when Baby Peter fell sick with some digestive disorder, Pat, with the help of the District Nurse, was able to persuade Mrs. Kewpie that a daily bath would reduce the slight fever and to substitute the sweet, fresh milk that the nurse had brought in the place of the coffee she was accustomed to feed the baby.

Now Renee, to her delight, was given an opportunity to share the "good turns."

One afternoon Mrs. Lee, always an angel of kindness and of wide charity, had sought Renee's help. She explained to Renee, as they walked along together, that this was a "case" of her own, and that she was taking her to this house because she thought she might bring a little sunshine into a very lonely life there.

"Poor Mrs. Forrester is very cross and very queer, my dear! No one ever goes to see her now and she lives all alone with a servant almost as old as she is! I thought that if you would go there once in awhile and read to her you might help her pass the long hours."

Mrs. Lee did not add that she hoped the child's quiet, sympathetic manner might waken some tenderness in a heart as cold and dead as stone.

Mrs. Forrester lived in a very old house in an out-of-the-way street. Standing almost concealed by trees and overgrown shrubbery, it looked like some forgotten corner of the big, growing city. The door creaked on its hinges as the untidy old servant grudgingly opened it just far enough to permit them to enter. The rooms were dark, dusty and absolutely bare of any furnishings except a few worn chairs. Not a picture, not a book, not one spot of color was to be seen! There were no curtains at the windows and the cracked dingy-brown shades had been pulled close to the sill as though to forbid one tiny gleam of sunlight filtering through.

Renee thought it the most horrid house she had ever seen and wondered how Mrs. Lee could step into it so cheerfully!

But always tender with old people, she immediately felt sorry for the queer old woman propped up against a pile of pillows in a great, ugly bed.

"It isn't that she's so very old--or sick! I believe she just _won't_ stir! Mrs. Lee says she has had a very unhappy life," Renee explained at home. Now Mrs. Forrester and the ugly old stone house shared the interest of the pow-wow.

Another time Renee told, with much amusement, how she had insisted upon raising the shade at the bedroom window so that Mrs. Forrester might see how spring-like the sun made everything look and how the old lady had promptly hopped out of bed and had pulled it down with such a snap that it fell to the floor!

"But she just _had_ to go back to bed and leave it there and I went on reading's though nothing had happened and I know she really loved the sunshine because she lay there as quiet as could be, staring at the window!"

But one afternoon Renee returned, deeply excited, with a secret that she kept for Pat's ears and the seclusion of the Eyrie.