“Yes, and ever so good! It is filled, from cover to cover, with wonderful information. I never dreamed so much could be found in Nature that is so absorbing to read about or study.”

“I wonder why Miss Mason did not give me a copy?” was Natalie’s rejoinder.

“She spoke of it. She said she would send it by one of the girls this morning. Didn’t you get it?” asked Mrs. James.

“I wonder if it is in that box?”

As she spoke, Natalie began undoing the cord that wrapped the long box, and having removed the paper and then the box-cover, she found not only the Manual inside, but a hand-trowel and a weeder.

“Of all things!” laughed she, as she held out the box to show Mrs. James. “A shovel and a rake for my garden.”

Then it was Mrs. James’ turn to laugh. “That is not a shovel, nor is the other a rake, Natalie.”

“Oh, isn’t it? What is it, then?”

“The trowel is used when you wish to dig shallow holes, or loose-earth trenches. The so-called rake is a weeder that you can use about delicate roots, or in forcing deep roots to let go and come up. Both are very necessary for a farmer to use about his house-garden.”

“Well, if I ever have occasion to use them, I shall remember Janet.”

“Then you will be remembering her every day this summer, I think,” laughed Mrs. James. “Weeds are the pest of a farmer’s existence.”

Natalie was soon absorbed in her Scout book also, and Rachel was the only one of the trio who could tell about the scenery they passed as the train sped on to the nearest station to the secluded little village near the farm.

As the three travellers left the train and stood on the old platform of the country station, Natalie gazed about.

“My goodness! What a desert for isolation. Not a human being in sight, and no sign of a house or barn. Nothing but glaring sign-boards telling us where to stop in New York for a dollar per night – private bath extra!” exclaimed she.

Mrs. James laughed. It was true, but it sounded funny the way Natalie spoke.

“We ain’t got to walk, has we, Mis’ James?” asked Rachel plaintively.

“I don’t see anything else to do, Rachel. Do you?”

“Not yet, but mebbe someone’ll come along. I’d jes’ as soon ride behin’ a mule es not. Th’ misery in my spine is that bad sence I’ve be’n packin’ and movin’ so hard all week.”

“A mule would be welcomed, but there is none,” laughed Natalie.

“Isn’t the landscape beautiful?” said Mrs. James, gazing about with admiring eyes.

“As long as it is all that is beautiful to look at at this station, I must agree with you, Jimmy,” teased Natalie.

But both of them now saw Rachel staring down at the dusty road that ran past the platform, and when she dropped her bags and started along the road, acting in a strange manner, Mrs. James whispered nervously to Natalie.

“What can be the matter, Natalie? Can anything have made her brain turn?”

Rachel kept on going, however, bending over and staring at the dust in the middle of the road. Natalie was dumbfounded at such queer behavior, and was about to call to the colored mammy, when Rachel suddenly stopped, straightened up and shouted at something hidden from the eyes of the two who were waiting with the bags.

“Heigh dere! Come back foh us, yoh hackman!” was the echo that was wafted back to the station and the patient waiters.

Both of them laughed heartily. And Natalie said: “That was what she was doing! Obeying Scout instructions the first thing, and ‘tracking a horse’ in the wilds of this land.”

“Maybe that is the cab Mr. Marvin ordered to meet us. He said we must not be discouraged if it turned out to be a ‘one-horse chaise’ instead of a taxi,” remarked Mrs. James, highly amused at the experience.

Natalie made a vicious slap at a green bottle-fly that had annoyed her ever since she alighted from the train. Now she laughed and said: “Not a one-horse chaise, Jimmy, but ‘one horse-fly’ is here to meet us.”

It was such an opportune play on words that they both laughed merrily. Rachel was now found to be arguing with a man seated in an antique vehicle. He seemed to enjoy the conversation immensely, for he was comfortably stretched out with his feet up over the dashboard and his arms resting along the top of the back of his seat.

“Let’s go over and add our persuasions to Rachel’s,” said Natalie, picking up her luggage and starting away.

When they drew near enough to hear the conversation between Rachel and the man, the former was saying: “Yuh don’t know what I kin do to yoh! Do yuh want to see my pow’ful arm?”

The driver sat up at that and looked at the doubled up thickness of that member of Rachel’s anatomy. Then he said: “But I always gits that much a head fer such a long trip.”

“What’s the matter here?” demanded Natalie, coming up to join in the argument.

“Chile, dis highway robber wants to take fifty cents a haid fer takin’ us acrost to Green Hill Fahm. Why, it ain’t no furder’n f’om heah t’ dere, an’ I tells him it is stealin’. In Noo York sech profiteers gits what’s comin’ t’ ’em.”

Mrs. James interpolated at this. “Fifty cents each is not too much, Rachel. But he must take the luggage as well.”

The colored woman retreated at that, and cabby chuckled. “How much baggage?”

“Three suit-cases and these bags and hat-boxes.”

“I don’t see no suit-cases,” mumbled he.

“You would, if you had been at the station where you belong. The station-man took the checks and turned the bags over to us before going away to enjoy himself until the next train comes in,” retorted Natalie, impatiently.

“All right; I’ll wait fer yuh ’til yuh git back,” agreed the driver, preparing to take things easy again.

“See here,” said Mrs. James, sternly. “Are you Amity Ketchum?”

“Yes’um, – at your service.”

“Then you’re the man our lawyer engaged to meet the train and drive us to Green Hill. Now stop your arguing and get those suit-cases, then take us to our home.”

Mrs. James’ erstwhile good-nature turned like the proverbial worm and she became very imperious. So much so, that lazy Amity chirruped to his horse and went back for the baggage. When he returned and stopped beside the ladies, Mrs. James got in and sat on the back seat that was adjustable to meet demands. Natalie got in and sat beside her, and Rachel laboriously climbed up and dropped into the vacant seat beside the driver. The entire vehicle cracked when her ponderous weight fell upon the old bench, and Amity scowled threateningly at her black, shiny face.

“I gotta stop at Tompkins’ fer some groceries,” grumbled Amity, with scant ceremony in his tones.

There was silence for the time it took to reach the “Emporium” at the Corners, but when the proprietor hurried out to welcome the city people, the latter smiled and felt better for his friendliness. Amity had gone inside to get his order filled, and then came out with arms laden with packages.

Mrs. Tompkins followed her customer out to the steps, and was introduced by her husband to the three strangers. She was very pleasant and told Mrs. James to call upon her for anything she needed or wanted done. After thanking the gracious woman, Mrs. James was about to ask her advice on an important matter, but the hackman gave his horse a cut with the hickory stick, and almost dislocated his passengers’ necks with the lurch given the vehicle.

The two storekeepers were left standing on the steps watching the buckboard pass out of sight. Mrs. James was angry, but said nothing more. She knew how Rachel’s temper was instantly kindled when anyone dared to offend a member of her revered family, and she understood just what Amity would get if he was not more considerate towards them.

Having driven little less than a mile along the good highway, Amity suddenly turned off into a rough, badly-kept country road. Mrs. James looked anxiously back, and on each side, then said: “Mr. Ketchum, this is not the road to Green Hill Farm. You should have kept right on that other road.”

“I know it!” retorted Amity. “I’m going this way so’s to leave these vittles at my house fer dinner.”

“Is your house far out on this road?” queried Mrs. James, after an unusually hard bump of the vehicle over a deep rut.

“Not so fer. I’ll turn down th’ next lane, and then to the right, and there’s my place. There’s a back road what runs from my farm to your woodland. I kin go that way and drive you up to your barn by a wood-cutter’s road,” explained Amity.

“Well, I hope you won’t find any worse roads than this is, when we turn into that lane,” was Mrs. James’ reply. But the words were disconnected because of the incessant bouncing of the buckboard along the dried mud and over large stones imbedded in it.

Rachel had to cling with both hands to the small iron handle at the side of the board seat, but she fared better than the two in the back seat, as she was too heavy to be easily moved; and the driver’s seat was stationary, whereas the second seat slid dangerously up and down the shallow grooves into which its side-feet fitted loosely. The side on which Rachel sat sagged at least ten inches lower than on Mrs. James’ side, and the latter found it necessary to balance herself on her left hip to retain any sort of seat whatever.

They had travelled a mile of this sort of roadway when Cherub, the horse, of his own accord, turned in at a gap in the old rail fence and approached a carelessly-kept farm and dilapidated house. This private road was far worse than the one they just left, but Mrs. James and her companions expressed no impatience over it.

Then they came to what might have been a very picturesque stream, had the banks on both sides been kept in order. The only visible bridge over this water was composed of enough loose planks to give passageway for wagons or cattle. These old planks were not secured in any way, and moved threateningly when anything came in contact with them.

On both sides of this crude bridge the rains had washed out the dirt from under the planks, so that deep ruts formed. And just before reaching this rut, on the side of approach by the vehicle, was a huge boulder that thrust up its jagged head from the very middle of the rough roadway.

Amity had known of this obstruction in the road for a long time, but he was too lazy to remove this menace. He had always managed to guide the horse so that the wheels just managed to clear the rock. Sometimes, with a heavy load on the buckboard, the flooring would scrape along the top of the stone, but a little nerve-racking thing like that never phased Amity.

This time, however, Cherub was in a great hurry to get his feed, which he was sure would be awaiting him in the barn, so he failed to respond to the usual hard yank on the reins. The consequence was, one fore-wheel struck sharply in the middle of the boulder, and brought the buckboard to an unexpected stop. The awful strain on the old rotten harness when Cherub pulled and the vehicle was held up, caused the frayed rope mendings to part and the eager horse hurried forward, leaving his unwelcome drag behind.

Of course, the violent halt sent the occupants of the buckboard suddenly forward, so that Mrs. James unceremoniously struck Amity in the back and caused him to lose his breath. Had he not had his feet braced against the foot-rail in front, he would have fallen forward. Rachel, not having used the foot-rail and not expecting any catapulting, went headlong over the old dashboard. As the board was meant for a screen from water and mud and not as a support for such a heavy body as Rachel’s, it splintered and let her sag down between the empty shafts, her head resting on the whiffle-tree and her heels wildly kicking close to Natalie’s head.

The two other passengers were too frightened to notice that Rachel had on her hand-knitted, gayly striped stockings, brought years ago from “Norf Car’liny” and only worn on rare occasions; and Amity was too anxious to coax Cherub back and save himself any effort by going for him, to think of assisting Rachel to extricate herself from the broken-in dashboard.

Natalie and Mrs. James jumped out and, after heroically lifting and pulling, managed to bring Rachel right-side-up once more. The moment she learned what had happened, and saw the driver waiting for Cherub to return, she shook a doughty fist at him and scolded well.

So impressive were her speech and actions that Amity considered “discretion to be the better part of valor” this time, and jumped out to catch Cherub and bring him back to his job. While the hackman was away, Rachel turned to Mrs. James and spoke.

“Ef yoh-all pays dat good-fer-nuttin’ one cent affer my mishap, den I goes straight back t’ Noo York an’ gits d’ law on him to mek him pay me fer playin’ such tricks on defenseless women.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose, Rachel. It was an accident,” explained Mrs. James, hoping to placate Rachel before Amity came back with the horse.

“Ah don’ care – akserdent er no akserdent, I ain’t goin’ foh to have no fool-man like him dumpin’ me down between dem shaffs what is fit onny fer a mule! Now yoh heah me? Don’ yoh go foh to pay him nuttin’ fer dis trip!” retorted Rachel with ire.

Natalie laughed unrestrainedly at the funny scene, but the driver was again crossing the bridge, leading the balky Cherub, so she managed to cover her face to hide her amusement. While Amity tried to tie up the damaged portions of the harness so that the trip might be completed, Rachel came over and glared down at him.

“Say, yoh pore mis’able chunk of cotton-haid! Don’ yoh know I kin kerleck damages f’om yoh foh whad happened t’ me on dis premises of yourn?”

Amity looked up and returned her glare. “Say, you old black mammy, don’t you know I kin make you pay handsome fer smashin’ my buckboard? Even the harness would have held if you hadn’t been so heavy as to make Cherub break away from the load.”

That was too much for Rachel. She straightened up with family pride and planted her hands on her ample hips as she declared: “See heah, ig’nant clod-hoppeh! Don’ yoh go an’ fool yohse’f wid t’inkin’ I’se as easy-goin’ as dat harness ob yourn – ’cus I ain’t! I’m an out-an’-out Noo Yorker, I am, an’ yoh kin ast Mis’ James! I made one on dem fresh condoctors in Noo York pay me fohty dollahs onct, when he started his trolley an’ dumped me down flat in th’ road an’ druv away a-laffin at me. An’ I wasn’t damaged half as much dat time, as you done.”

Amity had finished tying up the harness and was backing Cherub into the shafts as he listened to this warning. He now half-closed his squinty eyes and switched the quid of chewing tobacco from one cheek to the other before he replied to Rachel. Then he drawled out tantalizingly: “You big blackberry, you! Puttin’ on such airs about what you did to car-conductors! But I ain’t no easy mark like ’em, – see?”

Rachel gasped at his insolence and turned to Mrs. James for succor. Words failed her.

“Amity Ketchum,” commanded Mrs. James sternly, “drive us to our destination without further delay, or any more words!”

This gave Rachel courage to add: “Da’s whad I say, too! Whad’he wanta bring us all outen our way, anyway, when we hired him to drive us t’ Green Hill Fahm, an’ da’s all!”

“Ef someone here don’t make her shet up sassin’ me so I’ll dump all your baggidge out an’ you kin all walk to Green Hill, es far es I care!” threatened Amity, standing up defiantly and refusing to get into the buckboard and start on the way.

Natalie turned to see how far the main road might be, and Mrs. James glanced fearfully at the number of heavy suit-cases and bags to be delivered at the farmhouse, but Rachel was the one to call his dare.

“Ef yoh hain’t in dat seat an’ drivin’ dat bony nag along in jus’ two secunts, – den yoh go haid-fust down in dat water – unnerstan’ me?” She rolled up her loose sleeves and showed a pair of powerful arms that looked like business.

Amity was a thin little man, and this Amazon apparently meant what she said, for she came for him with dire purpose expressed in her face. So he jumped into the buckboard and started the horse across the bridge without waiting for Rachel to get in.

Mrs. James rapped him on the shoulder to stop, and Natalie called to Rachel to hurry and get in, but Amity seemed unable to make Cherub halt and Rachel tossed her head and scorned to ask the man to let her ride. To Natalie’s coaxings, she shouted back: “Don’ worry, Honey! Rachel ain’t goin’ t’ contamerate herse’f by sittin’ nex’ to sech white trash.”

But the road was bad and walking was irksome for Rachel who was accustomed to stone walks and trolleys in the city when she felt tired. She had to jump mud-puddles that reached across the road, or plough through the sandy deep when the way ran alongside a sand-pit and sand lay heavy on the road.

Finally Amity drove up the hill that ascended from the river, and stopped beside the piazza steps. The driver felt that he had finished a hard day’s work, and now sat back resting, allowing the ladies to get down as best they could.

Mrs. James took her purse from the hand-bag to pay for the trip, when Rachel puffed up beside them. She saw the luggage still in the vehicle, and turned to order Amity.

“Carry dat baggidge t’ th’ doah, yoh lazy-bones!”

“I was hired to drive three passengers to Green Hill. I done it, an’ that’s all I have to do!” retorted he.

“Mis’ James, don’ yoh dare pay him a cent till he min’s what I tell him,” commanded Rachel, stern because she was on her own soil at last.

Amity remembered he had not been paid, so he grumblingly transferred the bags from the buckboard to the steps, then held out his hand for his payment. “Dollar an’ a half,” said he.

“Mis’ James, don’t you go an’ pay him no moh den one dollah, I tells yoh! He cain’t make me pay nottin’ cuz he made me walk half th’ way. Dat don’t stan’ in any United States Co’ht, no-how!” shrilled Rachel, furiously.

Mrs. James had opened her purse and hesitated between two fires – “to pay, or not to pay” the full price asked.

“Don’t fergit my dashboard is smashed, an’ I ain’t sayin’ a word ’bout payin’ fer dat!” snapped Amity. “An’ don’ yoh fergit my se’f respeck an’ modesty what was smashed when yoh made me stan’ on m’ haid in dose shaffs! I shore will git Mr. Marwin to sue yoh, ef yoh don’t go ’long ’bout yoh bis’nis!” exclaimed Rachel.

Mrs. James placed a dollar bill on the front seat, and turned to Natalie and said: “Open the side-door, dear, so we can go in.”

Amity got up in the buckboard, took the dollar and drove away without saying another word. Rachel waited and watched him drive to the front gate, where he turned to call back to her: “When you want a job in a circus as a giant huckleberry, come to me fer references. ‘I’ll tell th’ worl’’ what a fighter you are!”

And Rachel shouted back at him: “Yoh got th’ fust an’ last cent outen dis fam’ly foh joy-ridin’! I’m goin’ to start a hack-line an’ put yoh outen bis’nis, ef I has t’ take all m’ life-insuhance money to do it, I am. I got a nephew what’ll be glad t’ he’p me do a good turn to th’ country, as puttin’ yoh back whar yoh b’long!” Then she turned to her companions for their approval.

CHAPTER V – INVESTIGATING GREEN HILL FARM

As Rachel labored breathlessly with the baggage, she failed to notice any changes in the appearance of the house or grounds, but Natalie saw an improvement.

“What has been done, Jimmy, to make everything look so trim and nice?”

“I hadn’t really noticed, Natalie, but now that you draw attention to the fact, I see they have trimmed the box-hedges along all the paths, and the grass has been mowed. Even the shade-trees have been pruned and cleaned out. How well it looks.”

“Laws’ee, Mis’ James! Ef dey hain’t gone an’ nailed a brass knock on dis doah!” exclaimed Rachel, dropping her burdens on the mat and staring up at the quaint old knocker that had been fastened to the Colonial door since their last visit.

When the door was thrown open, Natalie had a glimpse of the inside – now furnished and most attractive. She followed Mrs. James and Rachel indoors and clapped her hands in pleasure.

“How perfectly lovely, Jimmy! Who would have dreamed that the dusty old place would look like this with a few pieces of furniture and a good clean-up of the rooms.”

“I swan!” breathed Rachel, in admiration, as she noted the braided rag rugs on the hall floor, the Colonial mirror on the wall, and the hall-table with drop-leaves flanked on either side by two straight backed rush-bottom chairs.

“It’s almos’ as fine as dem ole manor houses in Norf Car’liny. I ust to be nuss-maid in one on ’em befoh I come Norf,” was her final appraisal of the inside of the house.

Every nook and corner had been scoured until the entire house smelled of cleanliness. Then the antique furniture that had been discovered in the attic had been cleaned and polished until no one would have said they were the same old objects.

Mr. Marvin had selected enough braided and carpet-rag rugs for the floors as would look artistic without covering up much of the fine old oak-flooring of great wide boards. Simple cottage draperies hung at the old-fashioned windows, and the personal effects belonging to Natalie were so arranged as to give the entire interior a homey look. It was a cheerful home for a forlorn little orphan, and she felt the atmosphere of the place instantly.

Rachel had gone directly to the kitchen after she left the others in the hall, and now she was heard exclaiming delightedly: “Oh, Mis’ James – an’ Honey darlin’! Come right out to my place an’ see how fine I am!”

They hurried out through the pantry and were surprised to find what a great improvement had been made in the large kitchen, with plenty of white enamel paint, new porcelain sink and table, and a fine modern range. Even the chairs and cupboards were glistening white, and white dotted swiss sash curtains hung at the four large windows.

“Ain’t it jus’ too gran’ fer anythin’!” giggled Rachel, as pleased as a child with a new toy.

“It certainly is! We will all want to live in the kitchen, I fear, Rachel,” said Mrs. James.

“Who ever straightened up dis house fer us, suttinly knew her bis’nis!” declared Rachel. “Jus’ look at my closets – not one thing outen place. Pans, pots, an’ dishes – jus’ whar I’d ’a’ put them myse’f.”

Natalie was too curious to inspect the up-stairs, now, to remain longer in the kitchen, so she ran away, followed by Mrs. James. Rachel was too engrossed with the idea of preparing a luncheon on the nice kitchen range to bother about up-stairs.

On the wide landing of the main stairs Mr. Marvin had had made a cushioned window-seat, so that one could sit and look out over the kitchen gardens and beyond the fields, to the woodland that bordered the stream at the extreme end of the farm. Past the woodland on the farther side of the river rose a pretty green hill, similar to the one the house stood upon.

“Isn’t this view just glorious?” cried Natalie, as she dropped upon the seat and gazed enrapt at the scene.

After resting for some time in the window-seat, the young owner sighed and started up the rest of the stairs to the chamber floor. Here she inspected the various rooms with the old four-posted beds and high-boys, then came to a large, low-ceiled corner-room that had a similar view as had from the landing, of the side and back sections of the farm, with the woodland and stream beyond.

“Oh, how darling!” cried Natalie, seeing that all her favorite furnishings were arranged here. “This must be mine.”

“It is, dear. Mr. Marvin said he wanted you to have the best room with all your beloved objects around you. Here you can read, or sew, or plan for your estate,” said Mrs. James smiling gently at the pleased girl.

While Natalie rocked in the comfortable sewing-chair that she remembered her mother had preferred to all others, Rachel was heard coming to the foot of the stairs. She called authoritatively, “You-all hurry right down to dis fine lunch what I got ready! Dat range bakes like Ole Ned – an’ I got jus’ de fines’ pop-overs you eveh saw’d!”

“Um! That sounds tempting, Jimmy! Let’s run,” laughed Natalie.

While the two sat down at the round mahogany table that would easily seat ten, Rachel stood in the pantry door with her hands folded over her expansive figure. She smiled indulgently when Mrs. James praised the brown disks of hot bread just from the oven, and then went back to the kitchen.

The afternoon was spent in walking about the farm and planning various wonderful things: the vegetable gardens; the place where Miss Mason proposed having her camp for the Girl Scouts; selecting the best pasture if Mr. Marvin would consent to their having a cow. Then the out-buildings had to be examined in order to ascertain if they were in good enough order to house a cow, and a pig, and chickens.

It was evening before Natalie dreamed it, and they turned toward the house with appetites that made them as ravenous as any half-starved tramp. But Rachel was ready for them, and Natalie ate a supper such as she had not enjoyed in years. Mrs. James watched with pleasure, for the air and change had already worked a great good in the girl.

The sun was setting over the woodland when Natalie came from the dining-room. She sat down on the step of the side piazza to admire the scene, when Mrs. James joined her, carrying two books.

“Oh, I wondered where those Scout books were,” remarked Natalie, taking one from her friend. “Are you going to read yours now?”

“Yes, and I thought you would like to, too. We can sit and enjoy the cool of the evening, and discuss anything in the book that you do not understand.”

After reading eagerly for some time, Natalie said: “I see here in the section of the book that is devoted to forming a Patrol or Troop, that each Patrol has a Leader, and also a Corporal to assist her. These offices are held through votes cast by the Scouts, and each one of these officers holds her position until another election.

“But there can be no Patrol until there are eight girls banded together to form one. How could we five girls expect to start a unit when we haven’t enough girls to begin with?”

“Miss Mason suggested that, after she opens the camp on the river land, you girls might attend one of the meetings of her Scouts and, if you like the work, join her Patrol until you have enough members with you to branch out and organize one of your own. This will not only give you girls a good beginning in the work, but also help her girls to charter a Troop.”

“When will this be, Jimmy, if Miss Mason’s girls can’t get away before July 1st?”

Mrs. James laughed. “I’m sure I don’t know, dear. Miss Mason will be better able to tell us that important point.”

“Well, at least I have the book that I can read and find out what Girl Scouts are supposed to do. Then I will be able to go right along when we do join Miss Mason’s girls.”

“That’s a good ambition, Natalie, and let the future take care of itself. You only have to take one step at a time, you know, and no human being ever lives more than one moment at a time. But how many of us plan for the future and worry about to-morrow or next week! People would stop worrying and hoarding if they understood the only right way to think and live.”

Natalie smiled, for she knew Mrs. James desired to help humanity stop its worries. So she said nothing but continued her reading of the Manual. When she reached page 60, Section VII, and began reading about the tests for Girl Scouts, she exclaimed: “Oh, now I see what I can do!”

Mrs. James looked up from her copy and waited to hear.

“I can learn and recite to you the Scout Promise and the Scout Laws, as is requested in this section. I can acquaint myself with the Scout Salute, and when to use it. I can memorize the Scout Slogan and the Motto, and learn how respect to our Flag is expressed. All these other things I can study and know, so that I can stand up before Miss Mason’s girls and answer any questions on this section that are asked me.”

“Yes, Natalie, and you can also practice making knots, as mentioned here; learn the Scout exercises in every way; become proficient in making a fire, cook decent food, make a bed properly, demonstrate your sewing, and all the other things requested of a Scout for the tests,” added Mrs. James.

The two readers became so interested in the books that they failed to notice how dim the light was growing, until Rachel came to the side door and exclaimed at seeing them with noses buried in “Scouting for Girls.”

“Laws’ee! Ef dem books tell you-all to spile yoh eyes like-a-dis, den I ain’t got no use foh ’em. Come right along in, now, and set by a lamp an’ read – ef yoh gotta finish de hull book in one night!”

Mrs. James looked up, laughed, and placed a hand over Natalie’s page. “Rachel is quite right! Here we are trying to read by twilight that would forbid anyone with common sense to attempt such a thing.”

“I’ve reached a thrilling place in the book, Jimmy! Can’t I just finish this chapter?” begged Natalie.

“Certainly, but not out here. Let us go indoors and use the table-light.”

Rachel had gone in and the lights were switched on, so Natalie ran in to enjoy the engrossing page.

“What is the chapter you are so interested in, dear?” asked Mrs. James, as they settled down in cozy comfort to continue their reading.

“Oh, this chapter called ‘Woodcraft.’ It is so wonderful to one who never dreamed of such things being in the woods!”

“My! But you must have read very quickly to have reached the thirteenth section already. I have only read up to the ninth,” returned Mrs. James.