Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: The Girl Scouts' Vacation Adventures by Lavell Edith
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page
Ebook has 1833 lines and 51901 words, and 37 pages
THE GIRL SCOUTS' VACATION ADVENTURES
THE GIRL SCOUTS' VACATION ADVENTURES
Author of
"The Girl Scouts at Miss Allen's School," "The Girl Scouts at Camp," "The Girl Scouts' Good Turn," "The Girl Scouts' Canoe Trip," "The Girl Scouts' Rivals," "The Girl Scouts' Motor Trip."
The Girl Scouts at Miss Allen's School The Girl Scouts at Camp The Girl Scouts' Good Turn The Girl Scouts' Canoe Trip The Girl Scouts' Rivals The Girl Scouts on the Ranch The Girl Scouts' Vacation Adventures The Girl Scouts' Motor Trip
THE GIRL SCOUTS' VACATION ADVENTURES
THE GIRL SCOUTS' VACATION ADVENTURES
A NEW ENTERPRISE
It was spring vacation for the girls of Miss Allen's school. Easter was late this year, so the holiday had been long in coming; but now it was here--ten delicious, lazy days in the very heart of April--and Daisy Gravers meant to enjoy them.
Until a week ago she had not looked forward to this time with any particular longing, for her mother would be visiting her married daughter Olive, and the house would probably seem lonely. But then came that wonderful invitation from Florence Evans, to spend a whole week with her in New York, to see Marjorie Wilkinson and Lily Andrews who would be home from college, and to attend some of the parties the latter was planning. Daisy's newer friends had never taken the place of the old ones--the seven girls of that senior patrol from Pansy Troop who had been together the previous summer on the ranch in Wyoming. Any vacation, no matter how brief, which afforded an opportunity for her to see them promised to be most delightful.
So Daisy sat in the comfortable living-room of the Evans home and waited contentedly for her hostess to join her again. The day was beautiful; the prospect of a walk was alluring. It did not matter in the least to Daisy that her spring suit was not this year's, and that her hat was inexpensive; in her joyous frame of mind New York was a wonderful place to be visiting, even if one's clothing did indicate one's country origin. The girl was perfectly happy.
One glance at Florence's face, however, as she entered the room, told Daisy that her hostess did not share her exultant mood. In fact, she was literally pouting.
"Mother and Edith make me tired!" she exclaimed, "with their everlasting social work! You can't have a day to yourself, or plan an innocent little walk without their dragging charity into it!"
"What's the matter now, Flos?" asked Daisy, rather amused at her friend's petulance.
"Why, instead of going for our nice stroll in the Park, we've got to go hunt up some poor female on mother's church visiting list! She's sick or something--"
"But what can we do?" asked Daisy, as she drew on her gloves. She was beginning to feel a little reluctant herself; charity work was not in her line.
"'Investigate the case,' as mother told me! I wish she'd investigate her own cases--or send Edith! Now if it were a basketball game to referee, I wouldn't mind."
"But what's the matter with the woman?"
"She's sick, and poor, and has a baby, of course," replied Florence, as if all three of the things she mentioned were proofs of criminality.
"Poor woman!" sighed Daisy, as they stepped out of the door.
But once they were in the open air, even though it was city air, and felt the soft April wind against their cheeks, both girls forgot all about the distastefulness of their errand, and lapsed into their old, happy, gossipy vein. They began to discuss school--their class affairs, , and their scout activities. It was Daisy who first mentioned the luncheon to which Lily Andrews had invited them.
"Do you suppose it's in honor of Marj?" she asked. "You know she's visiting Lily for a few days during the college vacation."
"No, not entirely," replied Florence, "because it's in honor of somebody whose engagement is soon to be announced. We're all to send something for the linen shower, you know."
"And it isn't possible that Marj is engaged?" laughed Daisy.
"No, I don't think so. Marj has set her heart on finishing college, and she has three years more. It might more likely be Lily herself."
"Yes, it might. Oh, I wonder who will be there!"
"As many of the old senior patrol as she can get together, I think. Oh, Daisy!" She stopped suddenly, confronted by a flower vendor. "Let's buy some violets! We city people can't go find them like you can, you know."
Having arranged their bouquets at their waists to their satisfaction, they continued their walk. They were having too good a time to shorten it by riding, and they were not particularly anxious to reach their destination. Indeed, it seemed to them that they arrived all too quickly at the dingy little house corresponding to the address Mrs. Evans had given. Mounting the dirty steps, Florence knocked timidly at the door.
"What is it?" asked a woman, opening the door only an inch or two, and peering cautiously out.
"We're from St. Andrew's Church," said Florence; "and we came to find out whether there is anything they could do to help Mrs. Trawle."
"Come in," said the woman, grudgingly, widening the crack only sufficiently to allow the girls to enter singly.
The room presented a most unattractive appearance; even in the dim light of the drawn shades, both girls could see that what furniture there was was disreputable. Soiled clothing and threadbare towels hung about on the chairs, and one small frayed piece of carpet about the size of a window-frame was the only floor covering. In a darkened corner a woman lay on an untidy bed--a woman too sick even to notice the entrance of the strangers.
"That's her in bed," said the other, who had admitted the girls; "but she's that sick she don't know her own baby."
"Why doesn't she go to a hospital?" asked Florence, rather unsympathetically.
"She keeps talkin' in her delirium about dyin', and the poor baby a goin' to an orphan asylum, and somehow she connects that with a hospital. But if she dies, which she probably will, that's what's got t'happen, for none of us neighbors could take care of 'er!"
A groan escaped from the lips of the sick woman, as if she were conscious of the portent of their conversation, and a pathetic little sob seemed to come as an echo from the baby. Daisy's tender heart was touched immediately; she crossed the room and leaned over the bed.
"Mrs. Trawle!" she said, softly. "Please, listen!"
The invalid wearily responded, though she hardly looked capable of taking in what Daisy was about to say.
"We girls will take care of your baby if you will go to the hospital--really we will! Promise me you'll go!"
The woman's face brightened for a moment; she seemed to know instinctively that she could trust Daisy. But she shook her head, as another thought crossed her mind.
"But what if I die?" she asked, in a hoarse whisper.
Daisy stretched out her fresh young hand and touched Mrs. Trawle's wasted one, trying to put comfort and assurance into the grasp.
"Then we will care for the baby."
"Thank God!" sighed the woman, fervently. "Then I will go to the hospital--the one around the corner. You will take little Betty with you--now?"
"Yes! Yes!" cried Daisy; "if your friend will pack her things."
"She has nuthin' but what she's got on," put in the other woman; and while Daisy prepared to take the baby, she attended to the sick woman.
It was all arranged in an incredibly short time; within fifteen minutes the ambulance had called for Mrs. Trawle, and the girls, with their charge in Daisy's lap, were whirling home in a taxi-cab. It was not until they were half way there that Florence expressed her opinion.
"Daisy, I honestly think you're crazy!" she announced, surveying the baby coldly. She had never cared for children.
But Daisy was ecstatically happy, not only because she was doing something benevolent for someone else, but also because she naturally loved babies. Already she had fallen in love with the helpless little creature.
"You don't mean to say you wouldn't have offered, if I hadn't!" she exclaimed, incredulously.
"Certainly not!" announced Florence, emphatically. "It's sheer nonsense! But of course we can easily send her to an orphan asylum later on--when the woman dies."
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page