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Natalie: A Garden Scout
Natalie: A Garden Scout
An Open Letter From the Author
Dear Girls Everywhere:
Perhaps you will like these country life books better for knowing that the incidents told in them actually happened to me in my girlhood days. I did not live on a farm such as Natalie’s, however, nor was my father a farmer. He liked to “putter” around the acre of ground after business hours, simply because he enjoyed such recreation. I was generally at his heels, and whenever a fruit-tree was being grafted, or a swarm of bees hived, you could always find me there, too, getting in Daddy’s way. If I was not in the garden, or at the barnyard, I would be shadowing my brothers who were my seniors. Scouts were unheard of in those days, but we hiked, camped, fished and did all the enjoyable stunts which you Scouts now do.
I have not the space here to tell you of some of the hair-raising “dares” my brothers tempted me to accomplish, but I will have to write them for you to read, some time. However, the stunts and the following results would never be termed ladylike, nor were they graceful. Freckles, tan, and tattered dresses were the bane of my mother’s life, and the inglorious title of “tomboy” failed to curb my delight in the freedom of country life. But, dear girls, I stored away a fund of health and experiences that I can now draw upon without bankrupting myself.
A keen desire, which I hope to realize soon, is to have a place like Green Hill, where you girls can come and camp for as long a time as you like. Then we can sit about the campfire and talk about the fun and frolics the out-of-door life gives us. Many a laughable experience will I then tell you. Until that time, dear girls, believe me to be an ardent admirer of and staunch worker for the Girl Scouts.
Sincerely,Lillian Elizabeth Roy.
CHAPTER I – NATALIE SOLVES A PROBLEM
“Here comes Natalie Averill, girls!” exclaimed Janet Wardell, as a slender, pale-faced girl of fifteen came slowly down the walk from the schoolhouse door.
“My! Doesn’t she look awful?” said Frances Lowden.
“Poor Nat! I should say she did!” agreed Norma Evaston sympathetically.
“She looks as if the end of the world had come for her,” remarked Belle Barlow, the fourth girl in this group of chums.
“Not only the end of the world, but ‘the end of her rope,’ too,” added Janet, in a low tone so that no one else might hear.
“If it’s true – what mother heard yesterday – the end of Nat’s rope has come,” hinted Norma knowingly.
“What is it?” asked the girls anxiously.
“Nothing new for poor Natalie to suffer from, I hope,” said Helene Wardell, Janet’s younger sister and not a member of the clique of five girls, although she often walked to and from school with her sister.
“Well,” replied Norma, aware of her important news, “it is about the worst thing that can happen to a girl after she has lost mother and father. Mrs. James confided to mother last night that there isn’t a cent for poor Nat. The lawyer said that Mr. Averill kept up appearances but he had no capital. He must have spent all the money he made since Natalie’s mother died four years ago.”
“How perfectly dreadful for Nat!” cried Janet.