Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer — Part 69

“Dorothy went to the colored settlement, but could not get any one. Colored people don’t like to work in warm weather, and I don’t blame them,” her mother added in an undertone, “for standing over a fire in this heat is terrible.”

“Oh, what shall we do?” thought Nathalie ruefully, as she saw a pile of unwashed dishes confronting her. But a cheery “Hello?” caused her to look up to see her friend, with dust-brush in hand, cleaning the window shutters of the neighboring house. With gripping force she suddenly realized how useful Helen was, and the numerous things she managed to do to help her mother, notwithstanding the many hours she was compelled to spend at the stenography school.

Nathalie twisted about in the hammock; somehow it did not seem as comfortable as it did before her mother had come. Her sky visions had departed, and in their place had come the thought that she ought to help her mother. Oh, but dish-washing was degrading, such greasy work. She glanced down at her slim, white hands as if they would aid her in this argument with self.

“Oh, why do people have to do the very things they hate?” she questioned rebelliously as she arose from her comfortable position and with a long-drawn sigh started to enter the house.

“You have dropped your book!” exclaimed her mother as she stooped and picked up the Pioneer manual that had fallen from Nathalie’s lap and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” returned the girl and then, with a pang of regret as she noted her mother’s weary eyes, she bent and kissed her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry you had to work so hard!” she cried impulsively. “Isn’t there something I can do to help?” She almost wished her mother would say no.

“Not now,” replied her mother with a brighter expression than she had worn, “but perhaps you can help me later—when I get dinner.”

“All right,” returned her daughter with forced cheerfulness. As she entered the hall her eyes were caught by the word “Pioneer” in big, black letters on the manual. Reminded by the name that flaunted itself so determinedly before her, she remembered that she was a Pioneer, that she had taken vows upon herself, and that in order to keep these vows she should do the very things, perhaps, that she hated to do. This new thought jarred her uncomfortably as she hurried up to her room and began to make herself cool and comfortable after a rather strenuous morning spent in trying her hand at the many new interests that had come to her as a Pioneer.