From Tenderfoot to Golden Eaglet E-Book

Amy Ella Blanchard

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

JOANNE was leaning on the deck's rail watching the loading of freight. The black, perspiring men made much ado about it, and Joanne did not much wonder, for it seemed heavy work. She was not particularly interested in the boxes and bales, but presently she did see something which specially attracted her attention, and she leaned far over the rail to catch a last glimpse of a little black pony which came along with a dash once he gained his footing. "Take care, Joanne," her grandmother called from her steamer chair in which she was already established, "don't lean over too far."

Leseprobe

From Tenderfoot to Golden Eaglet

A GIRL SCOUT STORY

ByAMY E. BLANCHARD

Foreword

T

HE increasing numbers of Girl Scouts all over the country leads to an increasing demand for information about them. It is sometimes from rather unpromising material that a good scout is made. To demonstrate this, to show what benefits come from obeying the laws, to encourage girls who are but half-hearted scouts, and to prove that none need fail of becoming a Golden Eaglet who is faithful to her set purpose, this story of Joanne Selden is written.

A. E. B.

Contents

CHAPTER I THE STOWAWAY

CHAPTER II THE LOVELY LADY

CHAPTER V “THE END OF A PERFECT DAY”

CHAPTER VIII “SMILE, SMILE, SMILE”

CHAPTER IX BABY OR SOLDIER—WHICH?

CHAPTER X UP THE RIVER

CHAPTER XI HAWAIIAN PINEAPPLE

CHAPTER XII A DASH FOR HELP

CHAPTER XIII UNEXPECTED GUESTS

CHAPTER XIV HERE’S WHERE I COOK

CHAPTER XV A GARDEN PARTY

CHAPTER XVI CHRISTMAS WREATHS

CHAPTER XVIII UNDER THE STARS

CHAPTER XX REACHING THE GOAL

From Tenderfoot to Golden Eaglet

CHAPTER ITHE STOWAWAY

J

OANNE was leaning on the deck’s rail watching the loading of freight. The black, perspiring men made much ado about it, and Joanne did not much wonder, for it seemed heavy work. She was not particularly interested in the boxes and bales, but presently she did see something which specially attracted her attention, and she leaned far over the rail to catch a last glimpse of a little black pony which came along with a dash once he gained his footing.

“Take care, Joanne,” her grandmother called from her steamer chair in which she was already established, “don’t lean over too far.”

Joanne came back to the perpendicular. “Oh, but Gradda, you should have seen the darling pony that just came aboard; he was so much more interesting than all those bunches of bananas and crates of stuff. At first he didn’t want to come and planted his feet as stubbornly as a mule with his head up and ears back; that was when they put him on the barge to bring him to the steamer; then they hoisted him up by a strap over the side. He must have been scared, poor dear, but now he is safe, I hope. He is such a darling little fellow, bigger than a Shetland, but rough like one.”

“Why didn’t you call me to see all this?” asked her grandmother.

“Why, I was so excited and so afraid I would miss something that I forgot. I wish I had a pony like that.”

“You couldn’t ride it, my dear, if you had.”

“But I could learn. Whose is it, do you suppose? I wonder if it is going to a new home and if its people are on board. I’m going to ask the captain when I get acquainted with him. There is a lot of freight, isn’t there? I don’t suppose we can start till it is all on board.”

“We needn’t have come down so soon,” remarked Mrs. Selden, “but that is just the way at the small ports; it takes forever to get ready to start. Probably we shall be here the rest of the day. You’d better sit down and rest, Joanne, and not wear yourself out by rushing around.”

“But, Gradda, there are hours and hours ahead when there will be nothing to do but rest; I shall get too much rested.”

“Well, don’t get overheated,” charged Mrs. Selden as she watched the slim little figure return to her place at the rail.

A pale, thin, dark-haired, dark-eyed little person was Joanne, possessed of an exuberance of spirit and an enthusiasm which often outran her strength, so that her grandmother was continually curbing the excess of energy.

Presently she returned from her point of lookout to say: “I’m going to hunt up Grad. He can find out whose is the pony.”

“Don’t get into mischief,” warned Mrs. Selden, picking up the book lying open in her lap.

“I won’t,” returned Joanne dashing off.

She met her grandfather on the stairway. He had an open paper in his hand, and looked a little troubled although there was a smile hovering about his lips. “Well, Pickings,” he began—one of his names for Joanne was Slim Pickings, shortened to Pickings—“where are you bound?”

“Just going to hunt you up, Grad,” answered Joanne. “I want you to find out who that darling pony belongs to.”

Her grandfather puckered up his lips in a whimsical way. “I don’t believe any one can tell you better than I can.”

“Oh, but why do you say that? Please tell me.”

Her grandfather made no direct answer, but asked, “Where is your grandmother?”

“Out there on deck in a steamer chair.”

“Come along and let’s find her.”

Joanne linked her arm in her grandfather’s and together they appeared before Mrs. Selden. She looked up with a smile. “Well, doctor,” she began.

He dropped in her lap the open paper he had been holding. “What do you make out of that, madam?” he asked.

She bent her gaze upon it, then looked up with a puzzled smile. “What’s it all about, Gregory?” she inquired. “I can’t quite make it out. My Spanish might be up to it, but the handwriting baffles me.”

Dr. Selden settled himself in the chair by her side and took possession of the paper again. “Well, it seems that I am responsible for one more passenger than I bargained for.”

“What do you mean?” asked his wife.

The doctor spread out the paper on his knee and ran over the contents in glib Spanish, Joanne leaning on his shoulder the while.

Before he reached the last line she cried out excitedly: “The pony! the pony! That is what jaco means, isn’t it? Not the little black pony, Grad, not that, is it? Oh, Grad, did he give it to you?” She plumped down on her grandfather’s knee and tried to take the paper from him.

“Here, here, miss, go slow,” he cried. “That document is not for you. Now keep still while I explain. You remember that man Paulino Lopez whose son I doctored? Of course I couldn’t take any fee for a thing like that, but that does not suit my friend Lopez, so here comes this note, to the Señor Doctor, with the pony begging that I will accept the gift from my ‘grateful servant, Paulino Lopez de Machorro who kisses my hand.’ He has raised the little beast from a colt, it seems, and when I went to his house offered it to me with his house and all his possessions. Knowing the Spanish habit of placing one’s entire establishment at the disposal of the merest acquaintance, I refused to accept, which was the proper thing to do. He placed himself at my feet theoretically; I answered in kind and I supposed that was the last of it. But, no, here comes this; the pony is below, the man who brought him has returned and here am I in a quandary. Now, what in the mischief is to be done? We have no stable in Washington and who would look after him? I don’t see how we are to keep him.”

“Of course we can’t,” agreed Mrs. Selden.

Joanne flung herself wildly upon her grandfather. “Oh, please, please,” she cried. “I’ll take care of him; I’ll do anything if you’ll only keep him.”

“You!” exclaimed her grandmother scornfully. “What do you know about horses?”

“But I could, I could. I’d feed him and water him. I’d curry him and I could learn to ride him. Oh, Grad, when kind heaven has sent such a gift like manna from the skies could you have the heart to refuse it?”

“I suppose I shall have to make a pretense of accepting,” responded her grandfather doubtfully. “It would never do to send the creature back. Lopez would be hurt to the core, mortally offended, in fact. He would probably denounce me as one of those boorish Americans who has no idea of courtesy. No, the little beast will have to complete his journey; we can’t pitch him overboard. Meanwhile we’ll decide what is to be done with him. Here, Joanne, don’t make a spectacle of yourself like that. Get up.” For Joanne had prostrated herself in Oriental style at her grandfather’s feet.

She rose, however, at her grandfather’s bidding and went over to her grandmother. “Goodness me, Joanne,” said that lady, “your hands are as cold as ice. I do wish we could keep you from getting so worked up.”

“But who wouldn’t be worked up, when a darling pony is thrust upon one?” argued Joanne.

“You’d be more liable to be worked down in such an event,” remarked her grandfather laughing. “Quiet yourself, Joanne, or I shall have to send you to bed with a hot water bottle.”

“I’m quiet, really I am,” protested Joanne.

“Of course it is an exciting thing for her, you must admit that,” put in Mrs. Selden, taking her granddaughter’s part. “She has every reason to be excited; you would have been at her age. You’re not far from being so now,” she added slyly.

Encouraged by this Joanne put in her plea. “Won’t you take me down where I can see him, Grad?” she begged. “Of course he’s yours not mine, but as he is really one of the family I at least should be introduced to him. I’m afraid he’ll be lonely among entire strangers and we must make him understand that we are his friends.”

“All right,” responded her grandfather, rather glad of an excuse to visit the little charge so unexpectedly placed in his care.

A docile but fine-spirited little creature they found him, already in high favor with the sailors, the stewards and deck hands. He rubbed his nose against Joanne’s shoulder when she spoke caressingly to him, but turned from her with a low whinny when Dr. Selden spoke to him in Spanish. “Chico, chiquita, que bueno jaco,” he said.

“What did you say to him?” queried Joanne all intent.

“I said ‘Little one, what a good little pony.’”

“I believe he understood. You must teach me to say that to him. I mean to learn more Spanish; yes, I intend to be very proficient.”

Satisfied that they were leaving the pony in good hands the two went up on deck again. Before long the last lighter was relieved of its freight and soon the vessel was plowing through the blue waters leaving adobe houses and waving palmettos behind them. Joanne watched the little port fade from sight in a flare of sunset light, and then gave her attention to her fellow passengers whom she had scarcely noted before.

Her grandfather, a retired surgeon of the navy, her grandmother, a dainty little body, with Joanne, their only grandchild, had been spending the winter in the West Indies where they had gone mainly for Joanne’s health. She was a frail child from the first. Her father had died in the Philippines, her mother, none too robust, soon followed him, and the little girl was taken in charge by her grandparents who doted on her, but were perhaps a little over anxious and over particular, so that she was never allowed to rough it and knew little of the outdoor sports which most girls enjoy. She had studied at home with a governess, losing much time because of real or fancied illness, yet she had picked up much information from a grandfather who had travelled all over the world and knew many things not taught in books. By reading much Joanne had gained more knowledge, so she was by no means an ignorant young person in spite of having studied few school books.

Restless child that she was she paid many visits to the little pony between the time the vessel left her port and the following morning, sometimes alone, sometimes in her grandfather’s company. Between whiles she took careful survey of her fellow passengers hoping to see some one her own age of whom she could make a companion, but all appeared to be much younger or much older. The nearest approach to an acquaintance was begun with a lad a little older who smiled genially at her when she paced along the deck with her grandfather or rushed impetuously by herself as she tried to see how many circuits she could make within a given time.

This boy was sitting by a lady whom Joanne had noticed from the first. She, too, had smiled at the little girl who had smiled back. “I like that lady,” she told herself. “She is so handsome and has such kind eyes and such a lovely smile. I’d like to find out who she is. I suppose the boy is her son. I like him, too; he has the same kind of smile. He looks rather serious when the smile flashes out like the sun from under a cloud. I’d like to tell him about the pony.”

But if the arrival of the pony was an exciting incident of the voyage a still greater one occurred the next morning when one of the ship’s officers came to where Joanne was with her grandparents, sitting still for a wonder.

“Dr. Selden?” said the officer.

“I’m the man,” responded Dr. Selden.

“Would you be good enough to come below, sir?”

Up jumped Joanne. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with the pony, is there?” she cried. “He was all right just after breakfast. I gave him a lump of sugar. I hope it didn’t disagree with him.”

The officer’s grave face relaxed into a smile. “Well, no, I can’t say there is anything wrong with the pony;” he emphasized the last word.

“I’ll come,” said Dr. Selden getting up.

“Oh, please, Grad, I’m coming, too,” declared Joanne.

Her grandfather looked inquiringly at the officer.

“That is as you say, sir,” the man answered the look by saying.

The two men started off, Joanne following close at their heels. She was sure in spite of what the officer said that there was something afoot which concerned the pony even though there might be nothing the matter with his health.

The officer led the way to the captain’s room where, with eyes half frightened, half defiant, stood a begrimed, frowsy, half-clad little lad, mumbling out replies to the captain’s questions.

The captain arose as his visitors came in. “Good-morning, doctor,” he said. “Sorry to trouble you, but we thought you might be able to help us out of a little difficulty. This your granddaughter?”

“My granddaughter, Joanne.”

The captain held out a hearty hand. “Sit down, won’t you?” he said, yielding his chair to Joanne. “I’ve no doubt you’ll be interested in this affair, too. One of our men,” he went on, addressing himself to Dr. Selden, “discovered this boy this morning. He had stowed himself away somewhere in the hold. Do you happen to know him? You speak Spanish, probably.”

“To a certain extent,” Dr. Selden replied looking the lad over critically. “What is your name, muchacho?” he asked in the language mentioned.

“Pablo Lopez,” returned the boy.

“Son of Paulino Lopez?”

“Si, señor.”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, I remember; you are the boy I treated. Why are you here? Why have you run away from home?”

“It is the little pony, señor, the small one who is my always friend. I cannot be apart from him. No, it is not possible, I come that where he go so I. You are so good. I tell myself that the Señor Doctor who was so kind as to take away that agony in the ear he will not send me back; he will permit me to go back with him to take care of Chico.” All this was poured out in voluble Spanish, beseechingly, tearfully.

“Humph!” The doctor looked at the captain. “This is a pretty kettle of fish, isn’t it?” he said. “He’ll have to go back on the next ship, of course. Meanwhile I will be responsible for him. I suppose you can manage to give him a place to sleep and something to eat.”

The captain’s lips relaxed under his short moustache. “I don’t exactly see where you are responsible, doctor,” he remarked, “and of course we can’t let him starve, can we? He can bunk in somewhere; that’s easily arranged. We asked you to see him because we thought you might be able to identify him, as it was your pony he was concerned about. Certainly he must be returned to his parents. You know them?”

“Ye-es, after a fashion,” the doctor replied. “You see I happened to perform a slight service for them. In some way or other a grain of corn had penetrated this boy’s ear and had begun to sprout, causing him intense pain. One of the waiters at the hotel learned that I was a surgeon, informed this Paulino Lopez, who was a relative of his, and they begged that I would see the boy. Out of sheer humanity I couldn’t refuse. I went out to where Lopez lives, extracted the corn and in a few days the boy was all right.” The doctor paused.

“But where does the pony come in?” asked the captain.

“That is the sequel. One is bound to get some sort of boomerang if he is too soft-hearted. I’m not practising, as you know, and anyway I would have no right to take a fee, besides who would for a little thing like that? As I told you I went out to the Lopez ranch, saw a swarm of half naked children and a horde of black workmen. This Lopez insisted upon giving me this pony then and there, since I wouldn’t take a fee. I refused, of course, knowing the Spanish grand manner of offering gifts, but here comes the little beast after all when I have no use for him, and now appears this boy whom we don’t know what to do with. Pretty hard lines, isn’t it, in return for a common, every-day bit of benevolence?”

The doctor was so testy that the captain laughed. “Well,” he said, “some persons might not think so. I’m glad you can tell us something about the boy. I thought maybe you could. We’ll see that he gets back home all right.” He turned to the boy. “You stay on the steamer till we get to New York, then we send you back home by next steamer. Understand?”

The boy looked bewildered, his lips twitched, his hands twisted nervously. He cast an imploring look at Joanne who was observing him closely. His big, mournful eyes questioned her, then he plumped down on his knees before her, pouring forth a string of Spanish, only a little of which she could understand. Still, what she did gather was enough to make her jump up from the chair impetuously and go to her grandfather, clasping his arm till he should interrupt his talk with the captain long enough so that he might listen to her.

“Grad, Grad,” she said excitedly, “you know you said you couldn’t keep Chico, that’s his name, the boy says—you couldn’t keep him because there would be no one to look after him. I said I would, and you laughed. Now, you see, comes this boy in answer to my prayers. He’s just sent from heaven like the pony. I’ve always been perfectly crazy for a pony, and I’ll be ill, I will, I will, if he is torn from me.” She burst into tears.

Her grandfather looked down at the excited face and then passed his hand over the girl’s hair. “What would you do with such a nervous, excitable little body?” he said to the captain, who shook his head as if that were a question he couldn’t answer.

“You said—you said—you’d think it over,” sobbed Joanne, “and here when everything arranges itself so wonderfully you turn a deaf ear to my plea.”

The captain gave a little chuckle as the doctor turned a whimsical glance upon him.

“There, there, child,” said the doctor soothingly, “there is no use in making tragedy of this. We can’t do anything now, here on the high seas anyway. We have no intention of throwing the pony overboard and the boy after him. They’ve both got to stay on board till we dock. In the meantime we will see what can be done. It isn’t a matter that can be decided in a moment. I suppose the boy’s parents are crazy because of his absence. We’d better send them a wireless, eh, captain?”

The captain nodded. “We’ll see to that.”

“Come then, kitten,” said her grandfather to Joanne. “It is all right. I’ll tell the boy that we will see what can be done. Now go to your grandmother. Better wash off some of those superfluous tears first. I’ll come up after I have settled some further matters with the captain.”

So Joanne dried her eyes and nodded to the boy, calling upon her small stock of Spanish for a word of comfort. “Paciencia! Paciencia! Pablo,” she stammered, and with a bright smile at the captain, chasing away her tears she ran to her stateroom.

CHAPTER IITHE LOVELY LADY

T

HE news of a stowaway had reached the upper deck before Joanne arrived there. She had quite recovered her composure by this time, and, as usual after one of her excitable outbursts, she was turning her dark cloud to show the silver lining. It was fortunate, she told herself, that there were some days before the vessel could reach New York, and in that time, probably she could coax her grandfather into keeping both Pablo and Chico. She remembered that Dr. Selden had said that Paulino Lopez had a swarm of children, so why should he not be pleased to have one of them provided for? This pleasant thought caused her to flash a sudden smile at the friendly boy now standing by his mother’s side.

This time the boy did more than smile; he spoke. “Say,” he began, “have you heard about the stowaway? Is there really one?”

“Oh, yes, there is,” Joanne halted in her walk. “He is ours. I have just been down to see him.”

The boy turned to his mother. “Well, what do you think of that?” he said. Then, to Joanne, “Tell us about him, won’t you?”

Joanne moved over to where he stood.

“This is my mother,” he said. “My name is Bob Marriott. What’s yours?”

“Joanne Selden,” was the reply.

“Sit down, won’t you?” The lady indicated a vacant chair by her side. “My son has been telling me about the little pony you have below.”

“He isn’t exactly mine,” responded Joanne; “he is Grad’s—that’s what I call my grandfather. I couldn’t say grandfather when I was little, so I always called him Grad. He is a dear, the pony, I mean, though my grandfather is, too, for that matter.”

Bob laughed. “I’ve seen him and I think he is fine—the pony, I mean,” then coloring up, “of course your grandfather is, too.”

Then they all laughed and felt very well acquainted.

“So the fine pony is your fine grandfather’s,” began Bob’s mother. “However, I suppose that is the same as if he belonged to you, isn’t it?”

“Well,” answered Joanne rather doubtfully, “perhaps so, if Grad decides to keep him. You see he came most unexpectedly, as if he’d dropped from the skies. I’ll tell you about it.” So she launched forth into the story of Chico which, of course, included that of Pablo, ending up by saying: “So you see poor Grad is in quite a pickle. He has two things on his hands that he doesn’t know what to do with, three if you count me.”

“But why you?” asked Mrs. Marriott interestedly.

“Because you see my father died when I was a baby and my mother when I was four years old, so I have lived with my grandparents most of my life. I’m rather delicate and have to go south in the winter or to California or somewhere like that. This year we went to Bermuda first, then off to other places in the West Indies and to some queer little ports. Now that Grad has retired from the navy he can go along, too, which is rather fortunate for Gradda and me, for we have had to go wandering off alone. We usually don’t, however, for there are always some navy people going along at the same time.”

“Don’t you go to school?”

“Yes, at least I’ve had a governess. I had a French nursery governess first, then an English governess, but now I have none at all. I should like to go to school. Maybe I shall if we are to live in Washington. I don’t know; that is one of the makings up of his mind that Grad is bothered about. There he comes now. I must go and find out what he has to say about Pablo.”

This was the first of many talks which Joanne had with these two. She had never known boys very well, and Bob was a revelation to her. He was a Boy Scout, in the first place, he played the violin in the second and in the third he had a number of girl cousins of whose doings he told Joanne, making her sigh enviously as she wished she could do some of the things they did.

She expressed this wish to Bob one day when the two were leaning on the rail watching the churning of the water in the wake of the steamer. “How I’d love to play outdoor games and go camping and do all those things your cousins do,” she said.

“Well, what’s the matter with your getting out and doing them?”

“How could I?”

“That’s an easy one. Join the Girl Scouts.”

“Oh, tell me about them.”

“They’re Scouts as near like Boy Scouts as girls can be. Our organization was started in England by Sir Baden Powell, and his sister started the Girl Scouts, then Mrs. Juliette Low got the idea and brought it over to the United States. The movement has spread so that now there are hundreds and hundreds of Girl Scouts all over the country, and I tell you they are just fine. My mother was captain of a troop, but she had to give it up.”

“I’m going to ask her to tell me about her troop, do you call it? I love that. My father was a navy man, you know, and it does appeal to me, troops and captains and things. My father was only a lieutenant for he was very young when he died.”

“Of course mother will tell you about her troop. She’d love to, for if there is anything mum’s daffy about it is the Girl Scout idea.”

So Joanne sought out Mrs. Marriott and listened attentively while she was being informed of the Girl Scout activities. “I think it must be the finest thing to be one,” she commented at last.

“It certainly is fine and dandy to be a Boy Scout,” Bob put in, “so it must be just as fine for a girl.”

Joanne was very thoughtful for a moment before she said: “I’m afraid my grandparents wouldn’t like the idea.”

“Pooh! Why not?” queried Bob.

“Oh, because they don’t like me to do conspicuous things; they’d object to my marching in a parade, for instance.”

“Pooh!” exclaimed Bob again. “You’d be just one of a bunch, all dressed alike and no one would notice you particularly any more than if you were one potato in a bushel.”

Joanne laughed but immediately looked serious again, then she went on: “They’d be scared to death for fear I’d overtax my strength. Gradda is always talking about me overtaxing my strength, and charging me not to take cold and all that sort of thing.” She turned to Mrs. Marriott. “I wish you’d get acquainted with Gradda; she’s Mrs. Gregory Selden, you know. You could get to talking about how interesting and fine it is to be a Girl Scout and get her used to the idea gradually. It would never do to spring it on her suddenly; she’d get all ruffled up like a hen with one chick.”

“I’d like very much to meet your grandmother,” returned Mrs. Marriott. “Won’t you present me?”

Joanne looked up from under her dark lashes. She wasn’t quite sure whether her grandmother, being a very particular lady, would like the idea of meeting a perfectly strange person of whom Joanne could tell her nothing except that she had made the acquaintance in a very unconventional way. However, she reflected, that she did very often pick up acquaintances in travelling, and her grandmother had followed them up or dropped them as she felt disposed. So she replied politely: “If Gradda admires you as much as I do she’ll be delighted. I picked you out that first day as the dearest-faced person on board.”

Mrs. Marriott smiled. “Thank you for that very nice compliment,” she said quietly.

Joanne fidgeted around for a few minutes. “Let’s go now,” she said at last.

“Go where?” asked Bob.

“Over to Gradda; we may as well get it over.”

Mrs. Marriott laughed, but she gave Joanne’s hand a squeeze. “You are simply delicious,” she exclaimed.

Joanne wondered why, but jumped up, settled her cap upon her curly head and led the way to the other side of the deck where her grandmother sat. Dr. Selden was pacing up and down in company of another man. Joanne paused in front of Mrs. Selden saying: “Gradda, dear, I want you to know my friend, Mrs. Marriott, and this is Bob, her son.”

Mrs. Selden removed her eye-glasses and looked up with faint suspicion at the tall, handsome woman before her. “Oh, Mrs. Marriott,” she said, “I have heard Joanne speak of you. Won’t you sit down? Joanne, take that rug of your grandfather’s out of the way, and—Robert, is it? I’m afraid there is not another vacant chair for you.”

“Oh, never mind, Mrs. Selden,” returned Bob, quickly lifting the rug from the steamer chair and tucking it around his mother when she sat down. “Joanne and I will just walk while you and mother talk, that is, if you don’t object.”

“Not in the least,” replied Mrs. Selden graciously, pleased with the boy’s courteous manner.

“I’m glad you said that,” remarked Joanne as she and Bob turned away. “Now Gradda will talk about me, which she wouldn’t do before my face.”

That is precisely what did happen, for Mrs. Marriott tactfully led the way to the subject. “I was attracted to your little granddaughter when I first saw her,” she began. “She has such a bright interesting face, rather intense at times.”

“Yes, she is too intense, I’m afraid,” responded Mrs. Selden. “She is not strong but is nervously active, and I find it difficult to curb her nervous energies which outweigh her physical powers.”

“Then,” returned Mrs. Marriott, “it would seem a good thing to build up her physical strength.”

“That is what my husband advises. He advocates an outdoor life, but how is the child to be properly educated if we were to live in the country? I could not endure the isolation and where would she find proper companionship, a matter so important now that she is growing beyond childhood? She has had governesses, but now that the doctor has retired we have about decided to live in Washington and send her to school.”

“There are excellent schools in Washington,” remarked Mrs. Marriott.

“So we hear. Do you recommend any special ones?”

Mrs. Marriott rapidly turned over in her mind the schools of which she knew, then mentioned one which encouraged its pupils to belong to a troop of Girl Scouts whose meeting place for rallies was the school’s gymnasium, and presently the subject of this organization was brought up. While this was being discussed Dr. Selden joined them, and soon the three were animatedly talking over schools and schoolgirls in general and Joanne in particular.

This was the beginning of more than one conversation upon the same subject, so that by the time the steamer docked it was almost settled that Joanne should try the Everleigh school, though the matter of her joining the Girl Scouts was left open.

Meanwhile the story of the pony and Pablo had become generally known and every one was interested in the pair, all hoping they would not be separated.

The little pony had begun life with wild mountain companions, many of whom, from time to time, were captured and brought into the market-place to be sold. Chico and his mother were among these, but the wild, little mother refusing captivity, managed to get away, but in her mad efforts to escape, stumbled into a hole, broke her leg and was shot. Chico, who had tried to keep up with her, gave out at last, after making a good flight. Paulino Lopez bought the little creature for a mere song, took him to his home, where he became a great pet and Pablo’s chief companion. In time he became as gentle as a kitten and docile enough to offer no objection to having a saddle put upon him or to be harnessed to a rough cart. He was strong and sturdy, much like a Shetland pony, and even Mrs. Selden, after having been persuaded to go down to see him, observed that he had “a very engaging personality.”

At this comment Dr. Selden gave Joanne a sly wink which encouraged her to believe that Chico would remain in the family.

As for Pablo’s future, that was still an open question which was not answered till some weeks later.

At the dock Joanne parted from Bob and his mother. She and Bob had become good comrades while for Mrs. Marriott she had acquired the worshipful feeling which a girl of fourteen often feels for an older woman, and “my lovely lady,” was the way Joanne always spoke of her. At parting she threw herself into Mrs. Marriott’s arms sobbing out: “I must part from you! We must part and I may never see you again!” She tremblingly took from her finger a little forget-me-not ring which she thrust into Mrs. Marriott’s hand saying: “Please keep this to remember me by.” Then, after watching mother and son go off in a cab, she turned her attention to the landing of Chico.

The little pony came ashore much more readily than he had gone aboard, perhaps sensing the fact that his voyage was over and that he would now have the freedom of dry land. Moreover, this time he was led by his comrade, Pablo, who was clothed in a decent suit of Bob’s clothes, donated by Mrs. Marriott.

“Where will he go now?” inquired Joanne linking her arm in her grandfather’s.

“That’s what I must find out,” he said. “Such a nuisance having a responsibility like this thrust upon us.”

“Oh, Grad, Grad,” cried Joanne, “there’s Cousin Ned.” She had suddenly caught sight of a well set up young man behind the barriers.

“Good!” responded her grandfather. “Just the one I’d most wish to see.” He hurried up to the gate calling heartily: “Good boy, Ned! Just the very one I want. Can you wait till we’re through with these customs?”

“Sure can, uncle,” returned the young man.

Joanne waved her cousin a greeting and then rushed off to where her grandmother sat forlornly, if patiently, on a trunk. “Gradda! Gradda,” cried Joanne, “Cousin Ned Pattison is here. He came down to meet us. Isn’t that fine?” Her excitement and pleasure at the new arrival completely chased away the tears which had attended her parting with the Marriotts.

In due course of time the customs were done with and Cousin Ned was permitted to join his relatives. “Well, Ned, my boy,” said his uncle, “it’s mighty good of you to give us this surprise.”

“Thought I’d combine business with pleasure and run on to New York for a few days. Had some matters to look up and made it convenient to time it so as to be here when you all got in. Going right on to Washington, uncle, or do you linger in this mad city for a while?” He smiled down at Joanne.

“Well,” returned Dr. Selden, “the trouble is that I’m tied up in the matter of a boy and a pony.”

His nephew stared. “What?”

“Fact. I’ve got to find a place for them. Queer sort of dunnage, but they were forced upon me,” and Dr. Selden proceeded to tell the story of Chico and Pablo to which Mr. Pattison listened with close attention.

“Why don’t you ship them right on to my place?” he said at the conclusion of the tale.