Front matter (continued 3)

Rosanna giggled. “Have you told grandmother?” she asked.

Uncle Robert looked suddenly sobered.

“No, I didn’t, and I should have done so first and I meant to, and it is all your fault, Rosanna.”

“How so?” asked Rosanna in surprise.

“Well, if it hadn’t been for you I would never have been traipsing over the country on errands for the Girl Scouts and you wouldn’t have been waiting for me in the hall, and I wouldn’t have been so fussed at seeing you that I would forget to tell my mamma first. And she won’t like it unless she gets told right quick,” added Uncle Robert, getting up. Rosanna wiped her eyes, whereupon Uncle Robert sang:

“There, little girlie, don’t you cry,

We’ll have a wedding by and by,”

and ran up the stairs, three at a time, whistling as he went in search of his mother.

Uncle Robert was not one to take chances. After seeing his mother, who was truly pleased and had the good sense to show it, he started to Mrs. Hargrave’s, and after a short visit left that dear old lady busy at the telephone. The result was a wonderful announcement luncheon a week later, given by Mrs. Hargrave, at which the little Captain looked dimplier and sweeter than ever. After the luncheon she went over to Rosanna’s house, where she found all her Girl Scouts ready to congratulate her.

“You won’t give us up, will you?” they all asked anxiously, and she assured them that she would not. Seeing that they were really anxious, she made them all sit down close around her, and one by one they sang the Scout songs. They were happier after that, and only Rosanna was just a little lonely when she thought of the days when Uncle Robert was away, and reflected that all the days would be like that by-and-by. Just her grandmother and herself in the great stately old house, not occupying half of the rooms, and making so little noise that it made her lonely just to think of it. However, she put it out of her mind as bravely as she could.

Miss Hooker stayed to dinner, and Mrs. Horton was so charming that Rosanna could not help thinking what a very lovely young lady she must have been. After dinner, Mrs. Horton calmly carried her little guest away to her own sitting-room for what she called a consultation, and Rosanna and Uncle Robert who had nothing whatever to consult about now, sat and read. Upstairs, Mrs. Horton sat down opposite her son’s sweetheart, and said smilingly:

“I want to say something to you that Robert does not dream I am going to say, and if you do not approve, I want you to be frank enough and brave enough to tell me. Will you?”

“Yes, indeed I will,” Miss Hooker promised.

“I am an old woman, my dear, and silent. Sometimes I fear I am not very agreeable. It is a hard and unchildlike life that our little Rosanna leads here with me. I want you to ask yourself if for her sake you could bring yourself to live here for a few years. I know how dear a new little house is to a bride’s heart, and I tremble to ask you such a favor. But Rosanna has a lonely life at best, and with you here this house could be made gay indeed.

“I would never ask it for myself, but I do for Rosanna. I would gladly do anything I could for her, but I cannot fill the house with the sort of joy and gayety that she should have. She loves you deeply, and her Uncle Robert is her ideal.

“Wait a moment, dear,” she added as she saw her guest was about to speak. “I want to tell you what we could do. There are nine large rooms on this floor. You could select what you want for a suite, and you and Robert could decorate and furnish and arrange them to suit yourselves. I would be so glad to do this just as you wish, and then of course, my dear, the house is all yours besides. Could you consider it?”

“I don’t have to consider it,” said the little Captain. “I have already thought about it, and was worried about Rosanna, but I knew that she could not come to us and leave you all alone here. I am sure Bob will be glad to arrange it as you suggest, for he is very devoted to his mother and to Rosanna as well.”

Mrs. Horton gave a sigh of relief. “I can’t thank you enough, my dearest girl,” she said. “No one wants to make your life as happy as I do, and if there is anything I can ever do for you, you have only to tell me. Now we must have everything new in the rooms you want, so we will go down and tell Robert and Rosanna. How glad that child will be!”

Rosanna was tired and very nervous, and when Mrs. Horton and Miss Hooker came down with their great plan, Rosanna once more, to her own horror, commenced to cry.

“Well, for goodness’ sake,” her uncle cried, “I never did see anything like this! What ails the child? This certainly settles me! I shall never, never plan to get married again. Rosanna is turning into a regular founting; yes, ma’am, a regular founting!”

“Oh, I am so sorry—no, I mean I am so glad,” said Rosanna.

“You mean you are all tired out, and ought to go to bed,” said her grandmother.

“And if I am to come here to live,” said Robert’s sweetheart, dimpling, “I may as well see how I shall like putting a girl in her little bed.”

Rosanna, nearly as tall as the little lady, laughed through her tears. She went over and kissed her uncle good-night.

“I am sorry I was so silly,” she whispered. “I was so lonely when I thought you were going away that somehow when I found you were not, why, I just couldn’t help myself.”

“I know how you felt. It is all right, sweetness,” Uncle Robert whispered back. Rosanna’s clasp tightened round his neck.

“Uncle Robert, shall I—do you suppose—will I be your sweetness just the same even after you are married?”

Uncle Robert kissed her hard. “Before and after, and forever and ever more!” he said. “Just as soon as I get to be a sober married man, I shall be your uncle and your daddy too, and you are going to be the happiest little girl in the world.”

“Oh, Uncle Robert!” was all Rosanna could say, but her look thanked him and tears were very near his own eyes as he watched the little orphaned girl skipping off with her arm around the shoulders of his future wife. But they were tears of happiness.

“Don’t you love this room, Captain?” asked Rosanna, as she switched on the soft flood of light.

“Indeed I do!” said Miss Hooker. “I expect to spend a great deal of my time here. Between us, Rosanna, we ought to be able to plan the most wonderful things for our Scout troop. And next summer Bob says he will find a place for us to camp, and fit us out with tents and all that, so we will not have to go to a boarding-house or hotel, but stay right in the open. Won’t that be splendid?”

“Think of it!” said Rosanna. “Won’t the girls be wild when they hear about it? Oh, dear, I wish I was eighteen so I could be a lieutenant!”

“I don’t wish you were eighteen,” said Miss Hooker. “I like you just as you are.”

“Oh, Miss Hooker, you are so sweet!” said Rosanna.

Miss Hooker dimpled. “One thing we had better settle right now,” she said. “What are you going to call me?”

Rosanna looked blank. “I hadn’t thought about that at all. Of course I can’t go on calling you Miss Hooker, and then Mrs. Horton. And you are too little and too young to be anybody’s aunt.”

Miss Hooker watched her with a smile.

“What are you going to do about it then? I want you to call me just what you like. You are to choose.”

“Then I will tell you what,” said Rosanna brightly. “I was reading the sweetest little story the other day about a Spanish family, and they called each other Cita. It means dear.”

“Cita,” repeated Miss Hooker. “Why, I think that is just as sweet as it can be, and I should love to have you call me that.”

“Then that is what you are, little Cita,” said Rosanna with a kiss. And to her devoted household, Cita she remains to this very day.

Cita and Uncle Robert did not seem able to agree on a date for their wedding. Cita declared that it would take at least six or eight months to get what she mysteriously called her “things” together. Uncle Robert declared with equal fervor that she had everything she needed, and that they were not going to go off and live on a desert isle where there were no shops.

Finally Uncle Robert had an inspiration. “I tell you what let’s do,” he said after a long argument. “Let’s leave this to an outsider: someone with no special interest in the affair. And as a business man, I will name the agent.”

“Very well,” said Cita. “See that you play fair.”

“I name and nominate Miss Rosanna Horton, and as her aids and assistants I name and nominate Miss Helen Culver and Miss Elise Hargrave.”

“That is not playing fair at all!” cried Cita. “You know perfectly well that they want us to be married soon.”

Robert shook his head. “Not at all! Our marriage is detrimental to those persons named, insomuch as I shall take you off on a wedding trip, and by so doing shall interfere with the routine of work in your Scout troop. That is a good committee, and I shall trust them. I shall now call them in.”

The three girls were working in the Scout room on the tarleton stockings, filling and tying them. Robert stepped to the door and summoned them. Putting the question before them in the most serious manner, he told them that they were to decide.

“I should think I ought to decide my own wedding day!” cried Cita.

“You don’t seem able to do it,” said Robert. “You have been trying to decide for the last ten days. You see it is a business proposition with me. Perhaps if these good, kind young ladies succeed in fixing a wedding day, say before Christmas, I won’t have to buy you any Christmas present.”

“I don’t want to be married before Christmas,” wailed Cita, looking appealingly at the girls.

Rosanna nodded her head understandingly, and the three girls left the room.

“When will we set it?” asked Helen. “Do they really mean that we are to do so?”

“Tell him we have decided on the fifteenth of February,” said Rosanna. “That is the date she has fixed, but he is such a tease that she has been teasing him in return. That will give her all the time she needs, and she won’t be all tired out. Everyone loves her, and wants to do things for her and, besides, it is going to take weeks to get those rooms fixed. I never saw grandmother so fussy over anything before. She is going clear to New York and is going to take Cita to select hangings, and she has an artist friend selecting pictures; that is, a list for Cita to look over. Grandmother wants every last thing to be Cita’s own selection. And, girls, it is going to be too lovely. What do you think? You know those ceilings are about twenty feet high, and grandmother has had them all lowered with plaster board and beams, so it looks so much cozier. Grandmother is really splendid. I never loved her so much.”

“Are you almost ready to report?” demanded Uncle Robert at the door.

“All ready!” said Helen as the committee went skipping in.

“Well, let’s hear the verdict,” said Uncle Robert. “If this committee is as sensible as it looks, I expect to hear them say that the date is set for next week Tuesday.”

“The fifteenth of February,” said Rosanna firmly.

A look of relief spread over Cita’s face.

“Wha-a-a-t?” said Uncle Robert. “Impossible! Why, I named this committee and by all the rules of politics you should have brought in the report I want.”

“But it wouldn’t have been fair,” said Rosanna.

“What has that to do with politics?” groaned Uncle Robert. “All right! I have been done up; sold out, and by my own constituents. The fifteenth of February it is. But don’t you dare to make it a day later, young ladies!” He rose.

“Where are you going?” asked Rosanna.

“Where?” said Uncle Robert, with a twinkle in his eye. “You ask me where? Well, I am going to drag myself downtown to get that Christmas present.”

“And now,” said Cita after he had gone, “now don’t let’s think of weddings or anything else but our Scout work. Things have been dragging lately, and I think it is my fault. If we do not do better and snappier work right away, I will know it is my fault, and I shall give the troop over to someone else. Engaged girls have no business trying to run a troop.”

“Don’t say that, Cita,” said Rosanna. “We have all been working so hard for Christmas that I think we have no energy left.”

“Possibly,” said Cita, “but we must put things pretty well in order at the next meeting, and before then I want all these Christmas things marked and in their proper baskets. That meeting, the last before the holidays, will be an important one.”

“Then let us go to work merrilee,” said Elise, picking up a stocking, and letting a gumdrop slide down into the toe.

CHAPTER XIV

After the usual formalities of a meeting, Captain Hooker desired the girls’ full attention. She held a formidable sheaf of notes in her hand, and it looked to the Scouts as though there was going to be a good deal of work parcelled out to them.

“In the first place,” said their Captain, “I have asked the approval of the National Headquarters, and you are at liberty to send a Thanks badge to Doctor Branshaw. Now you have not yet sent him any formal thanks for what he did for Gwenny and I wonder if any of you have an idea of some attractive way of expressing your gratitude.”

“I thought of something, Captain,” said Lucy Breen, “but perhaps it wouldn’t do.”

“Let us hear it,” said the Captain.

“How would it be to write him, each of us, a short letter of thanks, just a few words, and at the top of each letter paste a snapshot of the girl who has written it? Then bind them all in a sort of cover or folder with our motto and a print of our flower on the outside.”

“I think that is simply a splendid idea,” cried the Captain. “Don’t you think so, girls?”

Of course everyone did, and it was settled that Rosanna should go and buy the paper for the letters so they should all be alike. As for the cover, Miss Hooker, who was an artist of more than ordinary talent and skill, offered to illuminate the cover with the cornflower as the motif; and she decided to illuminate it on parchment, with the deep blue of the flowers and dull gold lettering. The girls who had no snapshot of themselves promised to have one taken at once. Before they finished, the “Thanks Book” as they called it, promised to become a beautiful and very attractive affair. Miss Hooker warned them all to write natural and simple letters.

“How many of you have been over to see Gwenny in her new home?” asked the Captain. “After the holidays, I think it would be a very kind thing for you to each give up an afternoon once in so often (you can decide how often you can spare the time), and go spend the afternoon with Gwenny. Her mother feels that she should do a little work now and that faithful little Mary is taking care of a couple of children over here on Third Street every afternoon, to earn her share of the household expenses. So Gwenny is left very much alone.”

“My mother has been in the Norton Infirmary for a month,” said one of the girls, “and she said the nurse told her that it would mean a great deal to some of these patients if we girls would only come in once in awhile, and talk to some of the patients who get so lonely. Mother said there was a boy there with a broken hip, and he was always going to be lame, and he grieved so about it all the time that it kept him from getting well. And there was another patient, a girl about my age, with something wrong with her back. She is in a plaster cast, and her only relative is a father who travels, and he is in California.”

“Now there is an idea for you all,” said Miss Hooker. “I want to talk all these things over today, because if I am away at any time I want to feel that I know just about what you are doing. I should think that it would do a lot of good to visit those poor young people. There is just one thing to remember if you want to be popular with the nurses and helpful to the patients: always stay just a little shorter time than you are expected to. Then the nurses feel that you are wise enough to be trusted without tiring the patients, and the patients are left with the desire to see you soon again.”

“That is just what my mother said,” said the girl who had spoken. “She says so many people come who just stay and stay and if the nurse does not get around in time to send them home, why, they have the patient in a fever.”

“Perfectly true,” said Miss Hooker. “Make your visits short—and often. Next,” said the Captain, “I want to tell you that Lucy Breen has passed the examinations successfully in two subjects. She is now entitled to wear the merit badge for Horsemanship and Clerk.”

All the girls clapped.

“Bon bon, dear Lucee!” whispered Elise.

Lucy smiled back at the dear girl who had befriended her at a moment when she needed a friend so badly.

“I want to ask how many of you girls are taking regular exercises every morning?” asked Captain Hooker. “It does not seem as though you had as good color as you should have. I want my girls to be the finest looking troop at the great meeting in the spring. It is to be in Washington; did I tell you? And I want every one of you to go. Now, there is an incentive to work. The rally is in June just after school is over, and I want you to earn the money for your railroad tickets. Of course we will all get special rates, and it will not cost us anything after we arrive there, as we will be the guests of the Washington Scouts, or some of the women’s organizations. But you should all of you be able to earn ten dollars before that time. It will take that much, but no more. If any of you girls belong to families who could send you, you are at liberty to help some other girl who is less fortunate, but you must each one of you earn the sum I have mentioned.”

“What if we earn more?” asked Lucy Breen.

“I am sure you will be glad to have a little spending money when you get to Washington,” said Miss Hooker.

“Some of us will earn more and some less,” said Helen. “After we earn the ten dollars, why couldn’t we put everything else we earn in your hands, and then it could be evenly divided at the end, and we would each have the same amount to spend, and when we come home we can each tell what we spent it for.”

“Splendid!” exclaimed Miss Hooker. “What do you girls think of that? I think it would be quite a test of your ability to get a good deal of pleasure or profit out of a stated amount.”

Again everybody clapped, and with a little more discussion the subject was left settled.

One of the Webster girls raised a hand.

“What would you suggest that we could do to earn money?” she said. “All we can do is dance, and mamma won’t let us dance in public until we are grown up. We don’t know how to do anything else.”

“Marian, I get awfully cross with you sometimes,” laughed Miss Hooker. “What are those two merit badges on your sleeve?”

“Oh, those!” said Marian in a helpless voice. “The gridiron for Cooking and the palm leaf for Invalid Cooking. But I can’t go out and cook.”

“What can you make best?” asked Miss Hooker.

Another girl spoke up. “She makes the loveliest jellies you ever tasted and they always stand right up, never slump over at all.”

“And you, Evelyn Webster, what is that on your sleeve?”

“The palette,” said Evelyn.

“There you are!” said Miss Hooker. “What is the good of earning these badges if you are never going to make use of the things they stand for?” She picked up the Girl Scouts Hand Book that was lying on her lap, and turning over the pages said, “Listen to this:

“Employment.

“‘Stick to it,’ the thrush sings. One of the worst weaknesses of many people is that they do not have the perseverance to stick to what they have to do. They are always wanting to change. Whatever you do, take up with all your might and stick to it. Besides the professions of nursing, teaching, stenography and typewriting and clerking, there are many less crowded employments, such as hairdressing, making flowers, coloring photographs, and assisting dentists, and gardening. There are many occupations for women, but before any new employment can be taken up, one must begin while young to make plans and begin collecting information. ‘Luck is like a street car, the only way to get it, is to look out for every chance and seize it—run at it, and jump on; don’t sit down and wait for it to pass. Opportunity is a street car which has few stopping places.’

“Now there you are, Marian and Evelyn, with your jelly and your beautiful lettering. Make some of that jelly, and put it in the prettiest glasses you can find, and tie the tops on with a little ribbon from the five-and-ten-cent store, and illuminate some sample cards for window displays, and take them down to the Women’s Exchange. You, Evelyn, take your cards to the manager of one of the big stores, and ask him if he could use such work. He will probably want a thousand of them. I am glad this came up. If you are all as helpless as Evelyn and Marian when it comes to using your knowledge, why, there is really not much use in earning merit badges.

“I think we will talk this over for ten minutes informally, and then we will call the roll, and see what each one thinks she can do.”

The Captain turned to the Lieutenant and commenced to talk to her in a low tone, and for ten minutes the room buzzed. Then at the sharp command of the Lieutenant’s whistle silence fell, and the roll was called, and each girl’s chosen task was jotted down beside her name. The outlook was rather black for some of the girls who had chosen to try for merits in unusual rather than in available subjects. For instance, one girl wore badges for proficiency in Swimming, Signaling, Pioneer, Pathfinder, and Marksmanship.

None of these seemed to offer an opening for moneymaking, especially during the winter months. But she was plucky, and merely said that she would find a way to earn the money. And she did it by going to the Y. W. C. A. and assisting the swimming mistress for a couple of hours every afternoon. So well did she do that when the money was turned in, she had twenty-five dollars to put in the general fund for spending money.

Another girl had a merit badge for Aviation, but she went to work in her workshop and built box kites that no boy could resist, and sold them by the dozen.

As Miss Hooker told them, the trick was to make use of what they had learned. Of course a good deal of this worked itself out later, but when they had finished their discussion, and Miss Hooker had urged them to get to work as soon as they possibly could, she changed the subject by saying, with just a little hesitation:

“I wonder how many of you know that I am to be married?”

Every hand rose and a voice said, “But we don’t know when.”

“That is what I want to talk to you about,” smiled Miss Hooker. “We are going to be married on the fifteenth of February, and I shall not have bridesmaids and all that girls usually have; I want my own Scout girls as attendants—all of you. Will you all come?”

There was a series of exclamations of “Oh, Miss Hooker!” and “Indeed we will!”

“Thank you!” said Miss Hooker, quite as though she was asking a favor instead of conferring one. “Then I will depend on all of you, and a little later I will tell you the plan I have for the wedding. Of course you are to arrange to attend the reception afterwards, and we will have automobiles to take you all home.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” chorused the girls.

Miss Hooker found that after her invitation it was impossible to interest the girls in anything in the nature of routine work, so she soon dismissed the meeting, and the girls as usual piling into the automobiles belonging to Rosanna and Elise and Lucy and one or two others, were driven home in a great state of excitement.

A Girl Scout wedding! That was what it amounted to. Miss Hooker,—their dear Captain, thought so much of them that she had chosen them to attend her rather than her own friends. It was thrilling in the extreme.

It struck about twenty of them about the same time later, that there had been nothing said about clothes. This was an awful thought. Rosanna seemed likely to know more than any of the others, on account of the distinction of having Miss Hooker marry her uncle, so the twenty anxious maidens rushed to as many telephones and gave central a very bad time for about an hour, saying “Line’s busy,” while Rosanna talked to each one as she secured a clear line, and assured her that she knew nothing at all about it.

CHAPTER XV

The fifteenth of February sparkled all day long. Not half of the Scouts were able to sleep, and they saw the round bright sun bounce out of the east and start blazing up in a cloudless sky. All day it was the same. Not a cloud in the sky, not a shadow on the earth. Automobile horns seemed to take on a joyous toot. The heavy “ding, dong, ding, dong,” of the locomotive bell as it crossed Third Street lost its mournful tone and sounded sweetly solemn like a wedding bell.

All day relays of restless Scouts belonging to Captain Hooker’s troop drifted in at the open door of the beautiful old cathedral and watched the silent workmen setting the palms and flowers under the direction of a bevy of young ladies who were Miss Hooker’s schoolmates and life-long friends. They had claimed the right to decorate the church since they were not included in the wedding other than as spectators.

On twenty-four beds twenty-four Girl Scout uniforms in a terrifying condition of starch and cleanliness lay stiffly out, with hats and staffs beside them. And at about three in the afternoon twenty-four Girl Scouts lay down on other beds, so they would be “fresh” for the wedding. All the shades were pulled down, but not one of the twenty-four managed to get to sleep. It was awful! Actually painful! Each one lay wondering what the others were doing, and what Miss Hooker was doing. Wondered what she would wear, wondered if she was frightened. The two Websters had refused to rest in separate rooms, so they talked in a cautious undertone, while their mother in the next room pressed imaginary creases out of their tunics. The whole troop had beautiful new hair ribbons from Miss Hooker and from Mr. Horton a beautiful gold bangle bracelet. A messenger boy had delivered them all around just at noon, and while they rested twenty-four left arms were held up to catch the light on the gleaming band. The idea of anyone sleeping!

At six o’clock sharp the Lieutenant, Miss Jamieson, hurried up the steps of the Hargrave house where the girls were to meet, and ten minutes later three patrols marched nervously along and turned in. Then for endless ages, too nervous to talk, they sat waiting for the automobiles that were to carry them to the old cathedral. They were torn with fears. What if Mr. Horton and his best man, Doctor MacLaren, had forgotten to order the cars at all? What if they should be late, and the wedding go on without them? The voice of Mrs. Hargrave’s house boy announcing “De cahs is heah, ma’am,” sounded like music.

The cathedral, down in the oldest part of the city, seemed a million miles away, and the cars crawled. Not a traffic policeman but stopped them as they approached—but at last they arrived and entered the church. How beautiful it was, softly yet brilliantly lighted through its high arches. White satin with heavy gold embroideries draping altar and desk, tall candles burning at either side of the Cross. And somewhere softly, thrillingly out of space, spoke the most entrancing music.

People went down the aisles in gaily clad groups, the delicate perfumes of the flowers worn by beautiful women wafting to the girls as they passed. Mrs. Breen’s two brothers and the brothers of the two Girl Scouts who had helped at the benefit were all acting as ushers and they were certainly busy.

Standing just inside the door, the girls were aware of a little stir, and a group entered, walking more slowly and carefully than the others. Even the girls were surprised as they stared. For first of all came Gwenny, Gwenny leaning heavily on the arm of the kindly sign painter, but Gwenny was walking!

Behind, looking very shiny and quite agonized, followed Mary and Tommy and little Myron firmly clutching the still littler Luella, who looked on the verge of tears. After them, to close all avenue of escape, walked Mrs. Harter, and Minnie and Tom. Very slowly, in Gwenny’s halting footsteps, they went down the aisle—down and down until they came to the satin ribbon that fenced off a portion of the seats for Miss Hooker’s most particular friends. And even then they did not stop, for Doctor MacLaren, who was with them, led them to the fourth seat from the front. It had evidently been saved for them, for in the corner next the aisle was a big pillow for Gwenny’s back. Cita’s girl friends kept drifting in, lovely, colorful creatures in dancing frocks, and the girls reflected with joy that they too were asked to the reception afterwards.

Then came the group of the bride’s relatives, and close behind, Mrs. Horton, walking with her hand on the arm of the older Breen boy, and looking like a queen in her pale gray satin robe, brocaded with silver.

And then the Lieutenant, who had been standing outside all this time, returned, looking quite pale, and gave an order in a tone so low that half of the girls did not hear at all, but they were so keyed up that they knew just what to do and formed a double line facing the chancel.

The music burst suddenly, joyously into the Wedding March, and the girls started slowly down the broad aisle, keeping step to the music. So smoothly and so quickly had it been done that they had not had a glimpse of the bride, who was following them on her father’s arm, with Rosanna all in white before her as maid of honor.

Down the aisle, straight and trim, marched the Guard of Honor. When the first two girls reached the foot of the chancel steps, they stopped and turned to face each other, taking two steps backward. As the line all formed, the staffs were raised until the tips met, and under this arch, all misty tulle and gleaming satin, her cheeks faintly flushed, her lips softly smiling, passed their little Captain. Mr. Robert who had been waiting just beyond came forward and took her hand, and the Dean stepped down to meet them, while the Bishop waited before the altar.

The music muted. And in the place of the march came faint sighs of melody. Then in a pause of the ceremony, from somewhere silvery chimes rang out. The little bride stood motionless, her tulle train seeming to melt into the whiteness of the marble on which she stood.

And then, almost at once it seemed, it was all over. The little Captain had made her new vows, the ring was on her hand, the blessing on her bowed head. Quite solemnly Mr. Robert kissed her, then the organ broke out with a burst that filled the great church, and fairly beat down the rising throngs, as the married couple, passing under the crossed staves, passed down the aisle and out into their new life.

The Guard of Honor, in their automobiles once more and whirling after the bridal car to the reception, found their tongues and all talked at once. No one listened; no one cared. They went through a canopied, carpeted tunnel across the sidewalk to the house, and there were firmly handled by a bevy of colored maids who took their staffs and hats and sent them forth with nothing to do with their hands. But Mr. Robert shook all the hands they had, and the little Captain kissed them each and every one. And then she asked them to form just back of her until she had greeted all the guests. This took a long time, but was such fun, because they saw everyone and all the dresses, and everything.

But finally the line thinned out, the congratulations were over, and the little Captain, taking her filmy train over her arm, drifted out among the guests and the girls broke up into groups. A little later Rosanna came hurrying around to tell the girls to come to the library. They found the Captain and her husband there, talking to a chubby, smiling, altogether kindly and delightful little gentleman, who stared beamingly at them through immense horn-rimmed spectacles.

“I want to present you to Doctor Branshaw, girls,” said Mrs. Horton. “He came all the way from Cincinnati to attend our wedding and to meet you.”

The girls stepped up one by one to be presented to the great man.

“I didn’t see any other way of meeting you all,” he said. “My time is always so broken, and they keep me so busy down there that I actually didn’t have time to write and tell you how greatly I appreciated that book you sent me. I think it was quite the nicest thing in the world. I shall always keep it.”

“It was poor thanks for what you did for Gwenny,” said Miss Jamieson, finding that someone had to answer.

“I was glad to do it,” said the Doctor, “after you had led the way. It is an honor to work with the Girl Scouts. When you are twice as old, yes, three times as old as you are now, you will realize what a wonderful work you are doing in the world. I come across evidences of it every day. This Gwenny, for instance. Did you see the way she went down that long aisle tonight? Why, that girl is going to be well, perfectly well! Think of the years of pain and misery you have saved her, the agonizing nights and the untimely death. Whose plan was it, anyway?”

“Rosanna Horton’s,” said half a dozen voices.

Rosanna flushed. “No, don’t say that!” she objected. “It is just as the doctor says. If I thought of it it was because I am a Scout. Call it the Girl Scouts’ Plan.”

“Yours or theirs, Miss Rosanna; it was a divine thought and should make you all happy. You have given the three greatest boons to a fellow creature: life, health, and happiness, and all because your splendid order teaches you to watch for just such opportunities. Now I will give you an opportunity to do a good deed tonight,” and he laughed the jolliest laugh. “There are a couple of very wise gentlemen here tonight, who would like to talk to me, and they would want to talk about operations and anesthetics and all those things that I left locked up in my office at home. But I can’t tell them that, so I wish you could just look after me for the next hour, and sort of beau me around, you know, and if you see any bald heads or spectacles bearing down on us, just close in and protect me.”

“Oh, we will!” chorused the girls, greatly pleased.

So the great Dr. Branshaw, quite the greatest and most eminent man present, passed happily from room to room surrounded and tagged by a chatting, smiling throng of uniformed girls.

When a cheering looking line of waiters appeared with plates and napkins, the great man and his little court settled in a cozy nook and proceeded to fly in the face of all the best health experts. And to see the Doctor shamelessly send for more bouillon, and consume sandwiches, and sliced turkey, and candied sweet potato and salad, and oh, dear, all sorts of things, was enough to make any Scout hungry, and they just feasted and feasted.

Although the doctor refused to talk to the wise men, he did talk to the girls, getting on the subject dearest to him, as all professional men will, and telling them many an amusing story and pathetic incident.

Finally he rose. “I must go, girls,” he said. “I said good-bye to Mrs. Horton when I came in, so I could just slip out a little side door there is here.”

He shook hands all around and patted each straight shoulder. “Don’t forget me,” he said, “and remember if there is anything I can do to help, we are all working together. See this?” He smiled and pulled aside his coat. There on his waistcoat was the Thanks Badge they had sent him. “I always wear it,” he said, and with a merry good-bye hurried through the little door, and was gone.

Rosanna went to the hall and looked out.

“Hurry, hurry!” she called. “Here she comes! We nearly missed her!”

The bride, in her travelling dress, was coming down the stairs. She paused on the landing and looked down at the sea of smiling faces below. Then suddenly she tossed her bouquet out. A dozen hands reached for it, and the girl who caught it danced up and down. Everyone laughed.

“What did she do that for?” asked one of the Websters.

“The one who catches the bride’s bouquet,” said Miss Jamieson, “will be the next one married.”

“Quick!” cried Elise. “Let us all form the guard-line for her. Never mind those staves!”

Slipping through the throng and out the door, the girls formed a double line to the automobile waiting at the curb. A great white bow was tied on the back, and Rosanna quickly took it off and hid it.

“Cita wouldn’t like that,” she explained. Then she stood with her hand on the door. The house door opened and in a blaze of light, confetti and rice showering about her, rose leaves floating above her, the little bride and her tall young husband ran down the steps and through the double line of Scouts, who closed solidly before the door of the limousine as she entered it. The other guests were shut out. For that moment she was again their little Captain and belonged to them alone. Forming in a solid group, they suddenly shouted the Girl Scout yell, threw her a shower of kisses, and crying good-bye over and over, watched her little hand wave a farewell as the car sprang forward.

Helen and Elise were Rosanna’s guests for the night. A couch had been prepared so the three girls could sleep in the same room. They rolled themselves up in bathrobes, and sat on the edge of the couch just as they had sat on the top step so many months ago, only this time Elise did not knit. She too sat with her chin in her hands, staring out of the window. Rosanna had snapped off the light. A million stars in a deep frosty sky looked down on them. The night sparkled. It was very, very late, but Mrs. Horton with surpassing wisdom had not asked them to go right to bed. She too was awake, dreaming long dreams.

Presently Elise spoke. “So much of happiness makes me sad,” she said.

“Well, it is all over,” sighed Rosanna.

“Not at all!” cried Elise. “What could be over? Not Meeses Horton, who is just beginning. Not us, who have so many, many works to do. Not Gwenny who steps into a new life. Just see all those stars. They shine and sparkle always, no matter what goes on down here.”

“You sound like a little sermon, Elise dear,” said Helen, smiling.

“I don’t know just yet what it is you call sermon, but I hope it is nice,” replied Elise.

“Yours is, anyway,” said Rosanna, kissing the fair face beside her.

“All I meant was that this is over, the wedding and all that. Oh, of course I didn’t mean that everything was over. It is just as though a beautiful day had ended, as it has,” Rosanna continued. “Others will come, many, many other busy, beautiful days, and on my honor, I will try to do my duty to God and my country, to help other people at all times and to obey the Scout laws,” said Rosanna softly, lifting her eyes to the eternal stars.

THE END