The girls crowded around, all anxious to meet the new Tenderfoot and welcome her. They talked to her so hard that Elise felt her head whirl.

She was glad to hear the voice of the little Captain suggesting a song.

She handed a leaflet to Elise, but the girls knew the songs, and gathering in a circle they wanted to know which one to sing.

"Sing _The Long, Long Line_," suggested the Captain, and the girls sang:

THE LONG, LONG LINE

(Tune: The Long, Long Trail)

Recruiting song.

Do you feel a little lonely?

Are your friends too few?

Would you like to join some jolly girls In the things you think and do?

Don't you know your Country's waiting?

Have you heard her call?

See, the Scouts are crowding, crowding in, Where there's room for one and all!

Chorus

There's a long, long line a-growing, From north to south, east to west, There's a place awaiting in it, too, that you'll fill best.

We are sure you'd like to join us If you knew what we can do And we'd like, O how we'd like to make a good Girl Scout of you.

It certainly sounded sweet as the fresh young voices blended, and Elise thrilled as she listened. She was having such a good time! All the girls seemed so friendly and so sweet, with the exception of one girl who hung back and on whose face there rested the shadow of discontent and dissatisfaction. Elise found herself wondering about her; she seemed so out of place in that happy, merry throng. But none of the other girls appeared to notice that one of their number sat apart and occupied herself rather ostentatiously over a book.

They were all so busy making the evening pa.s.s pleasantly for the charming new Tenderfoot who responded so prettily to their advances that no one spoke or looked at the silent Scout, but presently Elise noticed that the little Captain sat down beside her and compelled her attention.

Even then the girl looked as though she preferred to be let alone.

For a long while, the girls sat and told Elise about their work and play and the camping in summer and the delightful hikes all the year. Finally it came time to go home and some one called for another song.

"Which shall it be, Elise?" asked Helen. "You choose one of the songs."

"I see one follows the air of the _Old Colored Joe_," said Elise. "I do know that loving song. Please to sing that; and if I may, I will try to sing it also."

"Of course we will sing that, you dear," laughed the tall young Lieutenant, and together they sang:

WE'RE COMING

(Tune: Old Black Joe)

Camping Song.

I

Come where the lake lies gleaming in the sun; Come where the days are filled with work and fun.

Come where the moon hangs out her evening lamp; The Scouts are trooping, trooping, trooping back to camp.

Chorus

We're coming! We're coming! To the lakes, the hills, the sea!

Old Mother Nature calls her children--you and me.

II

Come where we learn the wisdom of the wood; Come where we prove that simple things are good, Come where we pledge allegiance to our land; America, you've called your daughters--here we stand.

Chorus

We're coming! We're coming! 'Til we spread from sea to sea, Our country needs us--wants us--calls us--you and me!

"That is so _most_ lovely," said Elise as the song was finished, never for a moment realizing that her own pure and bell-like voice had added richness and beauty to the song.

The other girls looked at each other and smiled. Here was indeed a find.

Never had there come a Scout to the council with such a wonderful voice.

They felt that the pretty young Tenderfoot was a great acquisition to their number. So they all crowded around and said good night,--all but the silent Scout who had not joined in the jollity. Elise and Rosanna and Helen filled the two automobiles that were waiting for them with the girls. Never, never had those big cars been so crowded. Certainly they had never held happier pa.s.sengers. But there was no noise or boisterousness, no singing or whistling. The girls chatted in tones that were agreeably low and as each one reached her destination, she thanked Rosanna or Elise. When the last pa.s.senger in the Hargrave car had been set down, Elise leaned back in a corner and thought deeply. She was happy beyond words.

To do good to someone every day; that was part of her pledge. Such an easy part! But it was hard _not_ to be good when everyone was so good to her. Then suddenly she thought of the sulky face of the girl at the meeting.

All the time she was telling Mrs. Hargrave about the installation and the songs, and trying them over for her, she saw the dark, discontented face before her. She could not feel perfectly happy because somehow the face seemed to send her a message. "Help me; help me!" Elise heard in her soul. But what could she, a stranger, a girl who could scarcely speak the new language, what _could_ she do for that girl? And besides, why did she _need_ help? Elise, whose bright eyes saw everything, had noted the beautiful silk stockings, the texture of the black hair ribbon, and at the last, the expensive fur that edged her coat. Also a car had come for her, in which she went off alone. It was not poverty, at all events, decided Elise. She could walk; she was not lame like the poor little blond in the corner. As Elise thought it over, she puzzled more and more. She decided to ask Rosanna or Helen next day; then a better decision came to her. She would find out for herself. No one should tell her. Then if she made any mistake, why, the mistake would be hers.

But the next day but one the plot thickened. She went over with Rosanna to see Miss Hooker about some Scout work, and as they stood on the steps waiting for the door to open, it did open with a jerk, and the girl Elise had been worrying about dashed down the steps and into her limousine. Her face was disfigured with tears.

"Dear me!" said Rosanna. "What do you suppose has happened to Lucy Breen? She has been crying."

"a.s.suredly. The _pet.i.te pauvre_ one!" answered Elise sadly.

Rosanna with her usual directness asked Miss Hooker the moment they entered what was the matter with Lucy.

Miss Hooker hesitated. "You really ought not ask a question like that, Rosanna," she said finally, "but perhaps I ought to tell you. You will all have to know."

"Please _don't_ tell me, Miss Hooker," Rosanna begged with a deep flush.

"I thought perhaps someone had died or something like that."

"No, but for a week Lucy must be a dead Scout herself."

"How _awful_!" cried both girls, and then were silent.

"I prefer not to tell you why just now, but of course this will not make you shun her. You must show all the kindness and consideration that you can for her, and be with her all you can." More than that Miss Hooker did not seem to want to say, and the girls, saddened and quiet, finished their errand and left.

A day or two later, going with Mrs. Hargrave to the Red Cross rooms down town, Elise thought she saw Lucy Breen shrink out of sight behind some portieres at the back of the store that the Red Cross used as a sales room.

Elise acted on a generous impulse. She went back through the store looking at one thing and another until she in turn came to the portieres. Behind them was a s.p.a.ce used for a sort of store-room for articles brought into the shop, and as Elise looked curiously through the curtains as though wondering what lay beyond, she saw Lucy standing in a corner, crowded against the wall. Elise nodded gaily.

"Are you what they call making the sort of things in here, Lucy?" she cried. "Is it not fun to see what the good kind people give away?"

She stepped into the store-room as she spoke, smiling and nodding. "Yes, it is droll, some of the things," she chattered on, as though Lucy was doing her share in the conversation. Finally, however, like a little clock, Elise ran down. She could not think of a single thing to say further, and she trailed off, looking shyly into Lucy's dark face.

Lucy was smiling a set and bitter smile.