CHAPTER 17 Bitter Words

THE following week the Brownie Scouts found many demands upon their time.

Not only were they busy at school, but the organization gave a tea for all the mothers. At this meeting the girls displayed the buttons they had gathered and discussed plans for obtaining others.

Eileen had acquired a glass swirlback button, unlike any other on exhibit. Molded on the front, it had a wire loop shank with the back twisted in a snail-like spiral.

Sunny’s mother had given her an old Czechoslovakian button and there were others of foreign make. The most beautiful one of all, however, was an old Sheffield silver button which Miss Gordon herself had obtained. She planned to have it made into a pin.

Although gathering buttons and giving a tea required a great deal of work, the girls nevertheless found time to have a cook-out at their tree house.

Since Mr. Karwhite had ordered the gang of boys away, no one had bothered the little tree dwelling.

True to his promise, Mr. Vincent had put a sturdy lock on the door. However, it was not really necessary. Only the birds and the squirrels were regular callers.

To the delight of the Brownies, surprises continued to come at most unexpected times. On one occasion the girls arrived at the tree house to discover mysterious boxes piled on the balcony. Inside they found a complete set of dishes with a handsome cherry design.

Another time a book was left explaining about the different kinds of trees and flowers.

Eileen, who was verging on ten, had become very studious. She spent many hours reading all types of books, particularly those relating to the Girl Scout organization.

Now, though the matter seldom was mentioned, all the girls knew that Eileen soon would be leaving the Brownie troop.

Upon her tenth birthday she would move on up into an intermediate Girl Scout troop—“flying up” as the occasion was called.

Eileen was looking forward to the day when she would join the older girls. In preparation for the “fly-up,” she spent hours learning tenderfoot requirements—the Girl Scout Promise, the laws, slogan and motto. Nevertheless, the thought of leaving behind her good chums and Brownie activities filled her with regret.

“I’ll hate to give up this darling little tree house,” she remarked one day to Veve. “Were having such grand times.”

“You can come back to visit the troop next year,” Veve assured her.

“It won’t be quite the same though,” Eileen said wistfully. “I wish before I become a Girl Scout that we could solve the mystery of the identity of the person who gave us this house.”

“Is that a real wish, Eileen?”

“Yes, it is. I hope it comes true as some of the others have.”

“I’ll make the same wish,” declared Veve. “Maybe that will help make it come true.”

“I have another wish too,” added Eileen after a moment.

“What’s that?”

“It has nothing to do with this tree house—or not directly. I wish we could help Mrs. Myles.”

“All the Brownies feel that way. I don’t know why Miss Gordon never has taken us to her house again.”

Now as Veve spoke, it so happened that the Brownie leader and several of the girls came up the stairway after being on a hike. Miss Gordon could not fail to hear the remark.

“Veve, I’m glad you mentioned Mrs. Myles,” she said. “I’ve held off going to her home because Mr. Vincent thought it might be better to wait a few days. Now a certain situation has arisen, so we’ll go there today.”

“Today?” demanded Eileen in pleased surprise.

“Yes, the date of the sheriff’s sale has been set. Something must be done soon if Mrs. Myles’ home is to be saved.”

“What does Mr. Vincent say we should do?” inquired Connie.

“He wants us to go to Mrs. Myles and offer her the money she needs. If she insists upon knowing who is giving it, then we must tell her. But only if she insists.”

“Let’s go now,” urged Sunny. “It’s getting late.”

“Yes, it is,” agreed Miss Gordon, preparing to lock the door of the tree house. “We have no time to lose.”

A brisk hike took the girls to the Myles home. In the gathering shadows of late afternoon, the tumble-down dwelling looked even more desolate than on the first occasion they had seen it.

“I don’t think this place is worth saving,” Jane muttered. “A good strong north wind would blow the house over.”

“Nevertheless, it’s the only home Mrs. Myles has,” declared Miss Gordon. “What a pity she dislikes her brother so intensely. He could fix this place up for her if she would allow it.”

“Wonder why she will have nothing to do with him?” Connie speculated. “She must have a very good reason.”

“Mr. Vincent was careful not to tell us that part of the story,” remarked Eileen.

Before knocking on the front door, Miss Gordon advised the girls to let her do most of the talking.

“This mission is a most delicate one,” she said with a worried frown. “I’m not at all certain that we’ll be successful.”

Mrs. Myles seemed very pleased to see the Brownies and their leader again. Cordially she invited them into the kitchen.

Glancing around, the girls noticed that several boxes and barrels had been packed with dishes.

“Excuse the untidy appearance,” the widow apologized. “I’m packing a few things the bank has allowed me to keep out of the sale.”

Mrs. Myles spoke with forced brightness. The Brownies knew though, from the strained expression on her face, that she had suffered.

“It’s the sale that I came to discuss,” began Miss Gordon. “There need be none.”

Mrs. Myles, who had been wrapping a dish in paper, nearly dropped the piece of china.

“No sale?” she inquired. “Oh, I wish you were right, Miss Gordon. Unfortunately, the bank has refused to extend credit. Posters are already out, advertising the auction.”

“If you say the word, it can be called off.”

“That is quite impossible, Miss Gordon. Oh, it’s useless to pretend. I have no money. I can’t pay the bank loan or even the interest on it. I’m down to my last dollar. When I leave here, I don’t know where I’ll go.”

Sinking into a chair, Mrs. Myles covered her face.

“Please don’t cry, Mrs. Myles,” the Brownie leader comforted her. “Money is available to pay off the bank loan.”

The widow gazed at Miss Gordon as if unable to believe the wonderful news.

“Oh, I prayed that help would come,” she murmured. “It just doesn’t seem possible that my prayers were answered.”

“They were, Mrs. Myles. You need worry no longer.”

“You went to the bank and the president agreed to extend the loan?”

“No, a friend of yours—someone who has your welfare deeply at heart—has offered to pay the indebtedness.”

Mrs. Myles arose and walked nervously across the kitchen.

“Charity,” she said in a bitter voice.

“No, one can’t call it by that name, Mrs. Myles. You need the money badly and it will save your home.”

“Who is the person that has made this kind offer?”

“I feel it would be better if the person remained anonymous.”

Mrs. Myles shook her head. “I can’t accept with out knowing.”

Miss Gordon glanced at the Brownies and drew a deep breath.

“You insist upon knowing, Mrs. Myles?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, then, I will tell you. Your brother, Sam Vincent, has made the offer.”

Mrs. Myles appeared stunned by the revelation.

“Sam!” she exclaimed. “That sneak! He didn’t have the nerve to make his offer face to face. He knew I’d never listen to him!”

“He honestly wants to help you, Mrs. Myles. Who has a better right than your own brother?”

“Don’t call him a brother of mine! I’m ashamed I ever knew him!”

The Brownies could not understand Mrs. Myles’ strange outburst. So far as they knew, Sam Vincent was a very kind man who always did nice things for people.

“Never as long as I live will I take a penny from Sam!” Mrs. Myles went on angrily. “He’s a cheap, low-down thief!”

Miss Gordon and the Brownies were shocked by the accusation against the carpenter.

“Surely you don’t mean that!” gasped the teacher.

“I do! I never want to see Sam again in my life! I’ll starve before I’d accept money from him.”

“He seems to have your interests so deeply at heart,” Miss Cordon murmured. “If it’s only a misunderstanding—”

“Sam is a thief!” Mrs. Myles repeated. “He knows it too. That’s why he’s ashamed to come here himself! He knows I’ll never speak to him as long as I live. Didn’t he bring disgrace upon the family?”

“That I wouldn’t know,” the teacher replied quietly. “The important thing now is that a little money would save your home. If your brother is willing to help—”

“Don’t talk him up to me,” Mrs. Myles interrupted again. “He’s given me nothing, and he never will.”

“Oh, but he has given you something!” exclaimed Veve.

Too late, she recalled that Miss Gordon had warned the Brownies to let her do most of the talking.

Mrs. Myles was quick to take advantage of Veve’s slip of the tongue.

“What do you mean?” she demanded. “What did Sam ever give me?”

“Those baskets of food,” informed Sunny as Veve remained silent.

“Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Myles, exactly as if she had received a deep stab wound. “To think of it! If I had dreamed Sam had sent the food, I wouldn’t have touched it!”

“We didn’t mean to deceive you,” Miss Gordon said. “Sam only wanted to help.”

“Well, I know now!” the widow exclaimed. “Thank goodness, I learned in time. Don’t ever bring anything here again! The sale will go on, and if I land in the Poorhouse, Sam has only himself to blame!”