CHAPTER VIII
THE RAIN INTERFERES.
Every scout at Green Hill went to sleep that night with radiant visions of working on the water garden the next day, and perhaps, seeing it nearing its completion by evening. But the day dawned and very few of the scouts could crawl out of bed. The unusual work that had brought many dormant muscles into play the day before caused backs and limbs to stiffen and ache, so that they cared little when they heard the rain pattering heavily upon tents and roof.
“Dear me! Do you suppose Mr. Ames will work in the rain?” asked Norma impatiently when she saw the steady downpour.
“He worked in the water up to his knees all day yesterday so I shouldn’t think the rain would frighten him away,” said Janet.
“But he had on hip boots that kept his feet dry. If he works in the rain he will be drenched in no time,” explained Belle.
“Besides, this rain will fill up the hollow so that the marsh will be very unpleasant to dig in,” added Mrs. James.
“I don’t see why the horrid old rain couldn’t stay away for a few days, until we got the lake finished,” grumbled Norma.
“The farmers will be so glad for this rain. We haven’t had any in so long they feared their crops would suffer from the drought,” ventured Mrs. James mildly.
“Oou-ch! Oo-oh!” came from Natalie, at this moment, and every one turned to ask what was the matter.
“Oooh—a stitch in my back that cramped me all up!” sighed the girl, bending over in order to crawl to the couch by the window.
That started a comparison of aches and cramps and pains that lasted until Rachel served the nice hot breakfast. She always had some remark to make on the progress of work at the farm, and now she said: “I declare! You scouts ain’t done any more experimentin’ on dat new churn we got, and I ain’t got no moh time to make your butter dan I’se got to fly! Seems to me you-all can work dat churn on a day like dis.”
“Rachel is right, girls! This is the sort of weather to make scouts look after house work. Now some of you can play with the churn while I experiment with a cake recipe I got from a farmer’s wife last week,” said Belle.
“If the cake is a success, who is going to eat it?” asked Janet.
“If the scouts in this part of the country weren’t so famished when cake was mentioned, I’d say you all could have a party with it,” laughed Belle.
“I’d say Belle had better finish her experiment first and then talk of parties later. Maybe no one will want to risk their lives with a bite of the cake after she has it baked,” added Natalie.
With teasing and laughing, the breakfast was finished and Janet, Natalie and Frances decided to do the churning that day, Belle said she would be occupied all morning in the kitchen, and Norma decided to put on her raincoat and oilskin cap and go out to see how the flower beds were looking.
Sambo’s dog, Grip, had not evinced any desire to bother anyone at Green Hill Farm because he was seldom to be found about the place, excepting at such times as when he rushed home for a meal or to sleep at night. The scouts of Patrol Number One said they often found him roaming about the woodland down by the stream, and Farmer Ames said he visited them at odd times and begged for a drink of water. Then he would wag his tail and scamper away again.
Sam grinned whenever any one of the girls asked him “what good was a dog like that?” And he generally said apologetically: “Dat Grip ain’t never had such a good time afore, so he don’t know how to enjoy it all at once.”
But Grip disliked the rain and so he lounged about the house and followed the girls to the cellar when they went to try the churn. And he was still prowling about in the corners when he heard Rachel call his name. That always meant something to eat, so he rushed up the cellar stairs in great haste.
Norma had gone out to her garden and the first thing she saw was a rank growth of weeds coming up where the seeds had been planted. This would never do, so she leaned down to pull them up. As she bent over the ground a dreadful odor came from it. She had to straighten up and turn away her nose because the smell was so unpleasant.
She examined everything near the flower garden to see if a dead cat, or rabbit, or other creature, was hidden in some corner, but nothing could be seen. When she turned back to the flower beds again, the odor was still there—overpowering to her delicate sense of smell.
“I’ll go and ask Jimmy if she used a new kind of compost on the ground without my knowledge.” So saying, Norma turned to go in by the kitchen way, but she saw Grip on the stoop very busy with a huge soup bone.
The moment he saw Norma place a foot on the lower step, he grumbled at such interference with his repast, and taking a firm hold on the bone with both jaws, he dashed off the stoop and ran towards Norma’s garden.
She stood watching him without any special motive in doing so, when suddenly she saw him burrowing a hole in her flower bed. She shouted and ran to stop such depredations, but Grip was pawing away with both front feet just as fast as he could, and the dirt flew out from under the active paws and scattered about for a radius of more than ten feet.
“Get out! Stop that, you rascal!” shouted Norma, now close enough to catch hold of his tail and try to pull him away.
But Grip had dropped the bone in the pit already made, and now tried to nose the soil back over it, while defying the drag Norma had on his appendage.
“Now I know what that awful smell is, you old tramp!” exclaimed Norma, angrily, as she gave up tugging at his tail, and instead ran to the cellar to get her garden tools.
The three girls in the cellar listened to her story of how Grip made a store room of her garden, and as they laughed appreciatively at the dog’s preference for a flower garden in which to save his future meals, Norma got her tools and went out.
With a little judicious hoeing and raking, she soon unearthed several well-decayed bones and chunks of raw meat which Grip could not finish at his meals, but planned to save them for a day of famine.
Norma tied a handkerchief about her nose as she dug up the odoriferous morsels and carried them on the shovel, held at arm’s length, down the lane to the barn yard where a compost heap was started for next year’s planting.
“There now! One book said that old bones and meat, as well as green garbage was excellent to mix in a compost heap before winter time, as it would all mature together.”
With this satisfaction of having performed a good deed, Norma returned to her flower garden to continue the weeding that had been so unpleasantly interrupted.
But Norma discovered that the same muscles in her hips and back that had ached so dreadfully all night, began aching again, with the bending over the flower garden to weed, so she had to give up all hopes of gardening that day. Having put her tools away in their accustomed place, she went to the kitchen to offer her services to Belle.
“You can stir up the chopped almonds if you will,” said Belle, busily engaged in beating the cake batter.
“Where is it?” asked Norma, looking on the table for a dish of nuts.
“On the stove—in the frying pan,” returned Belle.
“Goodness sake! Do you fry the nuts before you use them?” asked Norma, amazed at this way of making a nut cake.
“No, I do not fry nuts but I fry that mixture,” explained Belle. “You see this is a recipe a woman way back in the country gave me. She never has any nuts so she uses this counterfeit, and no one ever knows the difference.”
“What is it?” was Norma’s question, as she sniffed the mixture she was supposed to stir to keep from scorching.
“I cracked a lot of cherry stones that came from the pitter when Rachel canned those cherries, and the meat was soaked in a tablespoonful of alcohol to extract the flavor. Then I took a cupful of grape nuts cereal and soaked it in some cream. When it was soft I added the flavoring to taste, and now you are about to brown the whole thing in butter to keep the chopped nuts soft enough to chew like real nut-meat when it is in the cake. See?”
“Well, I never! What a fake!” laughed Norma.
“The woman told me of all sorts of fakes the bakers do to make customers believe they are getting first-class food stuffs. She told me how they used egg coloring to make the cakes and things look yellow as if plenty of eggs were used in them. Then she told me of the substitute for milk, which many bakers used because milk costs so much these days. Lots of them actually use a substitute for sugar and hardly any of them use vanilla bean, or real lemon, or genuine fruit extracts for their flavoring. It all is made of synthetic preparations that counterfeit the real flavors and are so much cheaper.”
“Huh! That’s why it pays to cook and bake at home, isn’t it?” said Norma.
“Yes, but even then, Norma, I found out that you have to know what you are buying or you get a counterfeit extract or baking powder, that is very injurious to eat. If one does not know this deception, one pays for the real thing and doesn’t get it.”
“I think someone ought to put a stop to such things!” was Norma’s amazed rejoinder to Belle’s disclosures.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but the food adulterers go right on their merry way, coining money out of their poor imitation articles, and the ignorant public go right on buying what they believe to be pure goods. One really has to know all sorts of things these days to keep ahead of the tricksters.”
“Well, Belle, I guess the girl scout teachings and work will turn out housekeepers who can get ahead of any of these clever counterfeiters, eh?” said a voice just then, as Mrs. James came in to the kitchen to see how the cake was getting on.
The need of Norma’s assistance was soon over, for the cakes were poured into gem pans and quickly shoved into the oven to bake. Then Mrs. James told the girls that she had seen a tenant move in to one of Norma’s bird-flats.
“Oh where—when?” cried Norma, rushing to the back door in order to look out.
“A bluebird selected the flat facing the field and I saw them both carrying material for a nest. Even the rain had no dampening effect on their ambition to settle down in your cheese box apartment,” laughed Mrs. James.
The other girls who were in the cellar heard the excited voice of Norma as she talked about her new tenant, and all three dropped the paddle and ran upstairs to watch the bird nest building.
“Hey, dere! You’se can’t stop churnin’ like dat, once you starts it goin’!” shouted Rachel, catching hold of two of the girls just in time to prevent their escape to the back stoop.
Belle had hurried out after Norma at the news about the bluebirds, but Mrs. James called her back as she laughingly said: “Those nut cakes won’t take more than a few minutes to bake and I’m here pining away for a taste of one.”
“Oh, goodness! I forgot all about the cakes in my excitement over the birds,” cried Belle, as she ran back to open the oven door and see how the cakes were doing.
“I wish we had all taken the time to hang our bird houses up,” remarked Janet, as she started for the churn again.
“Let’s do it as soon as this work is done, Janet. Sam hasn’t anything much to do today and he can help. All those large houses are still waiting to be hung in quiet nooks,” said Natalie.
So the remaining bird houses were placed that day and the girls felt that the least the birds could now do was to come and live in them. The rain ceased directly after dinner, and by two o’clock the sun shone feebly from behind the banked-up clouds. But it was clear enough to allow the work on the lake to continue, so the scouts from camp came up and joined the girls from the house.
“I had an idea this morning when I pondered the hold-up this rain made for us,” remarked Mrs. James, when all were ready to begin work. “If we had ditched the narrow strip which is going to drain the bog out into the little creek this rain would not have interfered with our working on the lake hollow. We can dig on that drain now, and then the ground in the depression will dry all the sooner.”
“That’s what we will! We’ll begin near the barn where the little creek passes, and ditch the place deep enough to carry off all the surplus water not standing in the marsh,” agreed Miss Mason.
No more time was lost by the scouts that day and soon they were digging and picking and shoveling for dear life. Many willing hands make light work, too, so the length of ground that had been left to do when Ames stopped digging the day before, was now finished and the last spadeful of soil was finally thrown out. Then the water that had flooded the bog area began to run out and the workers were delighted to think how dry the erstwhile marsh would be by the following morning.
As they started back for the house, after completing this important bit of work, Miss Mason said: “I tried to think of something this morning that we might do to help complete the water garden, but I couldn’t remember a thing. While we were digging, it came to me quite clearly that on just such a day was a good time to take up the bushes and young trees you wanted transplanted to the strip of ground along the field fence. The soil will have clung to the roots and the soil where we transplant the bushes will have been moist enough to help the roots take hold.”
“Why can’t we go for some now?” asked Norma eagerly.
“You scouts all complained of aching backs and cramped muscles, so I thought you would not care to work any more today,” explained Miss Mason.
“But all my aches went away when I started to dig again,” confessed Janet and the others admitted to the same sudden cure.
So they voted to find and dig up as many berry bushes or wild grape vines or other fruit-bearing plants for the birds as they could find and carry away before supper time.
Consequently, there was quite a brave showing of bushes and vines along the fence line before twilight that evening. One of the girls discovered a small mulberry tree which was taken up with all its wide-spreading roots. But it took the combined help of four scouts to carry it safely from the woodland to the field.
The scouts at the house needed no alarm clock to rouse them the next morning, as every one was eager to see how much of the marsh had been drained out by the ditch they had dug. Rachel said they would have time to run out and look around before she would have breakfast ready, so out they went—all making for one objective, the front lawn where the marsh could best be inspected.
“Well, well! Who’d have thought a little thing like that ditch would make such a difference!” exclaimed Norma, the first to reach the place.
“It certainly looks encouraging, doesn’t it?” declared Janet, as she saw the clumps of bog now sticking up without any water in sight anywhere, excepting the tiny stream that ran from the spring in the middle of the area.
“Girls, how far down shall we build the dam?” asked Mrs. James.
“We’ll have to put it where it will best back up the water, won’t we?” asked Janet.
“We can build it where we like, if we want to expand our lake any larger or longer than we had first planned for.”
“If we could have an irregular shore line on the lake, and at that end where the dam is to be, have it taper off from a lake into something like a natural looking stream and then place the dam almost opposite the dining room windows so the music of the water falls will be heard as we sit at the table, I would like that immensely,” suggested Norma.
“If we had the stream above the dam stretch along as far as that, I see no reason why I should not have my water fowl swim and spend their summer days in the lake. They won’t have very far to waddle to reach the pond, if the dam is so far down towards the barn yard,” said Janet eagerly.
Every one laughed, because Janet planned all things to fit in with her stock’s pleasure and benefit. But Mrs. James added: “Girls, I think Janet’s idea of having ducks and geese swimming in the stream and lake is a good one, as live water-fowl always make the lake look more picturesque. A swan would be entirely too large for so small a body of water, but the ducks and geese will be just the right size.”
“You said you wanted to put goldfish in the water, but Janet’s water-fowl will eat them up the moment they see them,” said Natalie, grinning at her own astuteness.
“If we stock the goldfish in the lake from the first and only permit Janet’s goslings to swim about at first the fish will get accustomed to keeping out of their way and the goslings will not be experienced enough to snap them up at every turn. Then the adult ducks can be allowed to come to the lake when the fish are practiced in dodging their natural enemies,” suggested Norma.
“Or better still, why not have Janet select ducklings instead of grown ducks from Mr. Ames, just as she has the goslings instead of grown geese? Then all the little things can swim about in one happy family, and not eat each other up,” remarked Mrs. James.
“That’s just what I’ll do! I’ll have Mr. Ames exchange the six big ducks I just bought for twenty-four ducklings, as they are four times cheaper than a grown duck.”
“Why didn’t you take little ones, in the first place, if they are so much cheaper. They don’t eat half as much, either?” was Norma’s surprised question.
“Oh, but they do eat—more than big ducks. They can’t pick for themselves and so I would have to feed them cornmeal and cracked corn. But the main reason I chose the big ducks was because Ames said little ducklings were so hard to raise. If I had a nice clean pond of water where they could swim and bathe, he said it would be different, but that ditch running past the barn, was too small and scummy for ducks, he said. With the lake we plan to now have, the ducklings will thrive and enjoy themselves and not be so hard to rear,” explained Janet at length.
“You all spoke of moving the dam down to the barn to accommodate Janet’s fowl, but I say why not let Janet move her duck and geese coops up nearer the place where the dam had best be built, and the water fowl will appreciate it just the same,” said Belle.
“As usual, Belle’s voice in the matter carries the vote,” laughed Mrs. James.
“Well, then, let’s choose a site opposite the dining room window as I suggested and dig a winding stream from the lake to the water falls, to make it look picturesque. Then the little stream that runs from the falls to the stream down by the woodland will take its own course in getting there,” declared Norma.
“How high are we going to have the dam, Jimmy?” asked Frances.
“I do not know, but Mr. Ames is going to measure the highest depth of the lake over by the pines and then gauge it from that point down to the point opposite the dining room windows, as Norma just said. The difference between the highest point at the pines and the lowest point down by the ditch will be the height we must build the dam.”
“Dear me, I can see myself swinging in a hammock under those pine trees, with a box of candy, dreaming away the hours while listening to the musical tinkle of the water fall, eh, girls?” said Mrs. James, clasping her hands and rolling her eyes as they had often seen Norma do when she was particularly romantic.
The girls laughed and Janet retorted: “When anyone finds Jimmy taking life easy, it will be time to feel her pulse and take her temperature. Nothing but a fatal illness will ever stop her from being in six places at one time, and superintending every one on Green Hill Farm, while looking after her own affairs, too!”
The laugh that followed this remark was unceremoniously interrupted by Rachel’s call to breakfast. While the girls were concentrating their thoughts on doing full justice to Rachel’s culinary art, Sam knocked meekly at the door that led out to the side porch.
“Come right in, Sam,” called Mrs. James, and he came in bowing politely.
“I come to tell Miss Norma ’bout dis grass. Tompkins got dat new lawnmower from Noo York last night, and tol’ me to say it is waitin’ foh Frances to cart home. Jus’ as soon as it ’rives, dat grass it ought’a be mowed or it won’t be no good no more.”
“Thank you, Sam. Frances will bring the mower when she goes for the mail and then Norma will start at once to cut the grass,” replied Mrs. James, smiling at Sam. Having delivered his message, he bowed again and went out.