CHAPTER XI

TOO MUCH TEASING

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

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

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

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

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

"Now we want you to meet Alma," announced Wyn. "She's one of our little Tenderfoots, and so romantic? She will be sure to want to adopt you, for just wait until you see if Betta doesn't say we found you in the lake!" she predicted.

Alma came from the leader's tent. She had been studying--those tests were soon to be held.

"Just see our little pond-lily," began Thistle, while Nora, now somewhat accustomed to the girls' jokes, managed not to blush too furiously.

"Oh!" began Alma, then she stopped.

Nora felt in that moment she was discovered and that the prince would soon cease to be a mystery.

"Well, Alma, this is Nora--Nora----"

"Blair," added Nora, realizing her full name had not been given the girls before.

"Oh, how do you do?" faltered Alma. "I thought at first I had met you before."

"No. Nora is the visitor at the Mantons," explained Wyn, "and we all had a ducking--we initiated Nora and had a lovely time. You missed it, Al."

"Sorry," said Alma, still eyeing Nora.

"But we spoiled our uniforms," rattled on Wyn. "That wretch, Jimmie Freckles, dumped us right out into the lake."

"And I was brought back to your camp to be redressed," Nora managed to say. She felt if she did not say something the girl with the lovely, glossy, brown hair, who was staring at her, would penetrate her secret.

"Alma has visions," went on Wyn. "She saw a real prince in your woods one day; didn't you, Alma?"

"I saw a little boy in a velvet suit----"

"And he had curls."

"And he had dimples."

"And he had lovely gold buckles on his slippers."

"And he had----"

But Alma turned on her heel and left the girls to finish their description without her aid.

Nora was greatly relieved when she left.

"Honestly," explained Thistle, "Alma insists she did see a little boy in your woods. Did you ever come across such a child?"

"Never," replied Nora, then, "I really must hurry home, I am afraid I am late for lunch now."

"Won't you stay? We are to have----"

"Thank you, Pell, but Cousin Ted and Cousin Jerry will be so anxious to hear all the news----"

"But you must keep secrets--make secrets if you haven't any to keep," advised Betta, who had taken a fancy to Nora. In fact all the girls showed unusual interest in the little visitor.

"Oh, I know how to do that," Nora replied truthfully.

Then, with many invitations and a number of suggestions as to spending some days and even a few evenings, Nora finally managed to race off toward the Nest, after Betta walked with her out of the camp grounds and watched while she hurried down the road. It was a very short distance to Wildwoods, and before Betta turned back to Camp Chickadee she had seen faithful Cap run out to meet Nora.

"Now, are you satisfied, Alma?" asked Wyn. "You would insist the visitor was a boy."

"It may be her brother," replied the brown-haired one, "but honestly, girls, and no joking, he had curls just like hers," said Alma.

"But isn't she sweet?" asked Wyn.

"Princes aside, I like her most as well as Alma's vision," declared Thistle. "And did you notice how matter-of-fact she donned Bluebird's outfit? What are we going to say to her if she happens back tonight?"

"Gone to the tailor's to be pressed," suggested Pell, glibly. "There come the others. Now for a lecture."

But instead, Miss Beckwith, the leader, came up smiling. "We heard all about it, girls," she began. "Met that precious James Jimmie Jimsby of yours, and he said it was in no way your fault."

"Bless the boy!" murmured Pell. "We shall certainly have to adopt the list of Jays. First we capsize his boat and then he pleads for us. Now isn't that gallant?"

"But Becky," began Thistle, sidling up to the popular leader, "we have had such a wonderful experience. We have converted a real rebel."

"Rebel!" exclaimed Wyn. "How do you know Nora was anything like that?"

"Well, Mrs. Ted Manton said as much, didn't she?"

"She didn't," replied Pell crisply. "She merely said that Nora had very little experience in girls' sports."

"I know," interrupted the leader. "Mrs. Manton has mentioned her to me, and I am very glad you have succeeded in interesting her. I fancy she is a very capable child, with too much time on her hands."

"Oh," sighed Betta. "If we had only known it we could have borrowed some. What ever shall we do to get in a day's work now?"

"Lunch first and then do double quick duty," suggested the young leader. "It has been rather a lost day, counting by the usual results, but then, we have to figure in the new friend."

"You're a love, Becky," declared Treble. "I am sure you are going to help me with my basket. It has to be done tomorrow, if I am to get full credit for it."

"Where's Alma?" asked Miss Beckwith, suddenly.

"Pouting," replied Wyn. "You are not to know it, of course, but Alma's in love!"

A shout corroborated the statement. "She may be hanging up wet clothes," suggested Pell. "When they're in love they do foolish things like that, I've heard tell."

"Girls! Didn't you hang up your wet things yet?" Miss Beckwith asked in real surprise.

A rush to the back of the tent, where the garments had been hastily heaped, gave response. Presently there was a contest being held to see who could hang up the most material in the smallest space and with the fewest clothes pins; at least that appeared to be the attempt the happy four were making; but when the lunch bell sounded, each and all were ready for the fresh corn, new potatoes, string beans and macaroni--a menu especially designed for culprits who fall in lakes and forget to hang up their uniforms to dry.

Everyone talked of the little stranger, and also everyone praised her beauty. She was so cute, so sweet, so adorable, and Pell even went so far as to whisper to Thistle that she was "peachy," although all slang was taboo at the table.

"And Alma," confided Wyn, "we were so sorry not to be able to locate your prince----"

"Girls," Alma exclaimed. "If you say prince to me again I'll scream."

"You did this time," said Betta, "and we don't mind it at all. You scream really prettily."

"Hush," spoke Doro. She was down at the far end of the table and had not been with the girls on their eventful trip. "I think we have teased enough, really. Let the poor little prince rest."

"Good idea," chimed another who also had missed the expedition. "We have a new plan to propose, and with all that prince stuff we can't get your attention. Becky is going to take us to the Glen tomorrow morning, and we want volunteers to make up the lunch baskets."

"Call that a new plan?" mocked Wyn. "Why, that's as old as the Scouts. First thing I ever did was to volunteer to make up a basket for my big sister, and she picked it up and walked off with it."

"Didn't even thank you?" asked Miss Beckwith, who always took part in the girls' fun.

"Well, she may have," replied Wyn, "but that didn't impress me. It was those sandwiches and those cakes----"

"You didn't make those, Wynnie?" demanded Treble. "If you did we won't ask for volunteers. We'll wish the job on you."

Alma was quiet during all the merry chatting, but Thistle, who could not resist one more thrust, said next:

"Thinking of him, dearie?" she asked. "And his little velvet coat----"

But the joke had a most astonishing effect. Alma sniffed, breathed in quick little gasps, and the next moment asked to be excused from the table.

"She's crying!" declared Betta.

"Horrid girls!" murmured Doro. "I told you she had had enough of princes."

"But to cry! Alma isn't like that," said Wyn in real surprise.

Miss Beckwith, who had reached the end of her lunch and was waiting for the others to finish, slipped away after Alma.

This left the girls to wonder, and they did that in all the ways known to girlhood.

Then it was definitely decided the first girl who mentioned the word prince should be made to pay a heavy fine.

All felt truly sorry for little Alma, but it was the wise and understanding Janet Beckwith who gathered the sobbing girl into her arms and soothed the sighs, tears, and protestations.

"Just teasing, dear," she insisted. "You must not mind their nonsense. They, every one, love you dearly."

"But I did see a real prince, Becky. And--and they won't believe me," sobbed out Alma.

Miss Beckwith wondered. "A real prince?" she repeated.

"Yes. I was near enough to see all his pretty--things," Alma paused in her sobbing to relate. "He had all velvet clothes, and such a pretty black cap. Oh Becky!" she sobbed afresh, "can you ever imagine what it is to have the--girls--all making fun of you?"

"Now, Alma dear," again soothed the leader, "I am really surprised that you should take this so seriously. You know the girls are not making fun of you----"

"They--said I had--a vision," she sobbed as heavily as ever. "And I am determined to find out who that was--and prove it to them."

Miss Beckwith was sorely puzzled. Naturally she supposed the girl was romancing. But why should she take it so seriously?

"Come, now, dear," she urged. "We have talked it all out and the only thing that worries you is that the girls do not believe you, isn't it?

"Yes, that's the worst of it."

"Then, let's sleep over it and see what the morrow will bring in the way--of light." Becky scarcely knew just what to propose so she threw the responsibility on the "morrow."

Alma was over her "spell" presently. But the prince had, by no means, lost his real personal identity to the sensitive little Scout.