CHAPTER 12 Help for Mrs. Myles

MR. Karwhite did not attempt to pursue the fleeing boys.

Nevertheless, he had recognized one of the gang.

“The taller boy was Al Bramowitz, unless I’m mistaken,” he told Miss Gordon. “He’s frequently been in trouble with the police and Juvenile Court authorities.”

“Those boys never should be permitted in the park again,” declared Mrs. Myles. “Why, they are hoodlums!”

The park superintendent assured both Miss Gordon and Mrs. Myles that the boys would be ordered away.

“First, though, I have to catch them,” Mr. Karwhite said grimly. “That won’t be easy. They slip over the fence and then run off whenever they see me approaching.”

“Perhaps the Brownies can help you,” suggested Eileen.

“You certainly might,” agreed the park superintendent. “If ever you see those scamps changing trail signs or causing anyone annoyance, report to me at once.”

Mr. Karwhite picked up Mrs. Myles’ sack of nuts, offering to carry it to the roadside for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured gratefully. “I’ll go directly home. Meeting those boys has upset me dreadfully.”

Saying good-bye to the old lady, Miss Gordon and the Brownie Scouts went on to the tree house where they had left a few belongings.

“It’s downright queer who fixed that meal for us,” Connie remarked as they walked along. “Could it have been Mr. Karwhite?”

“The possibility occurred to me,” Miss Gordon admitted. “He seems very busy though. I doubt he would have time for such doings.”

“He didn’t act as if he knew anything about it either,” chimed in Veve.

The Brownies were equally certain that Mrs. Myles had played no part in the pleasant surprise. By now they were firmly convinced that she had none too much food herself.

“That’s why she tried to keep us from learning what she did with the sack,” Jane declared. “She was ashamed to have anyone know she gathered nuts for food.”

Presently, the Brownie Scouts came within view of the big oak tree.

Rosemary, who led the line of girls, was the first to see that someone stood on the balcony of the tree house.

“We have a visitor!” she informed the others.

“Oh, great toads!” exclaimed Veve, recognizing the man. “It’s Mr. Vincent!”

The Brownie Scouts were dumbfounded. With one accord, they halted on the trail to discuss the embarrassing situation.

“He’s here for lunch!” Connie said. “And all the food is eaten!”

“What can we do?” Jane demanded. “If this isn’t a pickle!”

Miss Gordon consulted her watch. “It’s well past one o’clock,” she said. “I can’t think Mr. Vincent would have expected us to wait so long. At any rate, all we can do now is to explain what happened.”

Rather reluctantly, the Brownies went on to meet their visitor.

Seeing the girls, Mr. Vincent came quickly down the stairway.

“Am I late for luncheon?” he asked with a broad smile.

Then as the Brownies looked very unhappy indeed, he said quickly:

“To tell you the truth, I’ve had my meal. I didn’t think you would expect me.”

“But we did!” declared Connie in relief. “Only we thought you would come much earlier.”

“So we ate up all the food ourselves,” added Veve truthfully.

Mr. Vincent assured the girls that it did not matter in the least.

“My real purpose in coming was to see this wonderful tree house,” he announced. “I’ve already looked in, but I’d like a personally conducted tour.”

The Brownies were proud to show the carpenter their playhouse. He inspected every nook and corner, declaring that it was sturdily built and safe even in event of a severe wind storm.

“We know that!” laughed Connie ruefully. “The house is very snug. We need a lock on the door though, to keep mischievous boys away.”

“And a little stove to keep us warm,” added Veve, shivering in the chill wind.

“Both could be easily acquired,” the carpenter assured the girls. “Tell you what! I’ll see that a lock is put on the door.”

“Oh, fine!” shouted Jane. “I guess that will keep those boys out of our place!”

“And it will be another wish come true,” declared Veve. “First, we received this adorable tree house, and its furnishings. Then our dinner mysteriously appeared!”

“Mr. Vincent, you didn’t see anyone building a fire in the stone chimney near the rustic bridge, did you?” Rosemary inquired.

“Why, no,” the carpenter replied. He replied rather absently for he was carefully looking over the interior of the playhouse. “I think a little stove could be put in here very easily,” he told the girls. “It would be no trick to run the pipe up through the roof.”

“Then we’d be warm and cozy on the coldest days!” cried Connie. “We could use this house almost until the snow flies.”

“Let’s all wish hard for the little stove,” laughed Veve.

Miss Gordon asked the carpenter if he really thought it would be safe to have a stove in the little house.

“As safe as in any home on the ground,” he reassured her.

“The stove would be used only when I am here,” the Brownie Scout leader said, thinking aloud. “And it would make the room much cozier.”

“Then the stove is the same as ours right now!” chuckled Sunny. “Let’s all wish for it, girls.”

The Brownies noticed that Mr. Vincent was estimating distances with his eye. They couldn’t be sure, of course, but they thought he might be thinking of installing the stove for them.

Miss Gordon seemed to think so too, for she gratefully told the carpenter that it was nice of him to take an interest in the tree house and the activities of the troop.

“I enjoy doing it,” he replied. “Someday I may ask a favor in return.”

“You must come for luncheon—really come I mean,” urged Connie.

“Maybe we can get the park brownies to cook it for us,” laughed Veve in high humor. “They did a good job today!”

Mr. Vincent apparently did not understand the remark, so the girls told him of the mysterious manner in which their luncheon had appeared.

Veve elaborated too upon their meeting with the group of boys who had pelted Mrs. Myles with walnuts.

“Mrs. Myles?” the carpenter repeated in surprise. “Does she come here to the park?”

“We’ve seen her twice,” revealed Rosemary. “Each time she brought her sack with her.”

“She gathers nuts,” contributed Eileen, aware that the conversation interested the carpenter. “We think she has to have them for food.”

“Her house is run down and she’s very poor,” added Veve. “We didn’t see much to eat in the house when we went there looking for buttons.”

“Of course we don’t know how much she had in the cupboards,” Connie said truthfully. “She did have some nice warm bread.”

“The Brownies are judging from superficial evidence,” remarked Miss Gordon. She did not want Mr. Vincent to think that the girls were gossiping about the old lady behind her back.

“Nevertheless, I’m afraid what they say may be true,” declared the carpenter, looking troubled. “Years ago—well, I knew Mrs. Myles very well indeed. She never had much money. I’m alarmed lest she may actually be in need and not let anyone know because of her pride.”

“Doesn’t she have any children to look after her?” inquired Rosemary earnestly.

“No, the only child she ever had died in infancy. Her husband too has been dead many years. He left her almost nothing except the farm which eats itself up in taxes.”

“Hasn’t she any sisters or brothers?” This question was posed by Eileen.

“She did have a brother,” Mr. Vincent replied. “He tried repeatedly to help her, but Mrs. Myles is proud. She refused to accept any assistance from him.”

“You know Mrs. Myles real well, don’t you?” remarked Veve.

“I’ve not seen her in several years,” the carpenter replied. “That is, not to speak to her. I do see her driving along the road sometimes in her buggy. Each time she looks thinner and more tired—”

Mr. Vincent broke off to gaze speculatively at the Brownies. The girls could tell that he had thought of some plan which involved them.

In this they were right too, for an instant later he said:

“How would you girls like to help Mrs. Myles?”

“HOP is our motto!” chuckled Veve.

Mr. Vincent did not understand what she meant, so Miss Gordon explained that HOP was a code used by the Brownies. The letters stood for “Help Other People.”

“‘DYB’ means ‘Do Your Best,’” supplied Rosemary eagerly. “We make up lots of code words.”

“We’d like to help Mrs. Myles,” declared Connie, thinking how nice the old lady had been about giving away buttons. “How do we go about it?”

“I’m not certain what she needs,” replied the carpenter thoughtfully. “Undoubtedly she is short of money, but that may be a delicate matter. Suppose we start by making certain she has ample food.”

“Do you think she would like to accept charity?” Connie asked.

“She would refuse,” Mr. Vincent answered. “If I offered her anything, she would turn it down. There’s only one way.”

“What’s that?” questioned Veve.

“We must make it into a game. Furthermore, she must think that everything given to her comes from the Brownie Scouts.”

“While you’ll actually be the one doing it?” asked Veve.

“I’ll supply the money to buy anything needed. For a long while I’ve wanted to help Mrs. Myles. This is my chance.”

The Brownie Scouts very much wanted to co-operate in the plan, but they had no idea how to begin.

“I live not far from here,” explained Mr. Vincent. “At the first white house on the main highway after one passes the park entrance gate.”

“Oh, I know that place!” cried Connie, recalling the well-kept lawn.

“Suppose the Brownies come to my house tomorrow after school,” the carpenter suggested. “My wife will have two baskets of food ready to take to Mrs. Myles.”

“What if she refuses to accept them?” murmured Connie anxiously.

“That’s where the Brownies must use psychology. Ever hear of the word?”

“I guess it means getting folks to do something you want ’em to without letting ’em know they’re being twisted around your little finger!” chuckled Veve.

“I have an idea,” proposed Miss Gordon, who had listened attentively to the carpenter’s proposal. “The Brownies might act out the story of Little Red Riding Hood going through the woods to Grandmother’s house.”

“I want to be Red Riding Hood!” shouted Veve. “May I wear a red cape?”

“You don’t own a red cape,” cut in Jane. “But I do! I have a bright red rain cape, but it’s much too large for you!”

“We’ll decide later who is to be Red Riding Hood,” said Miss Gordon, settling the argument before it was well started.

“Then I may count on the Brownies to help me?” asked Mr. Vincent, pleased that the girls had taken so enthusiastically to the proposal.

“We’ll be at your home Monday right after school,” Veve promised.

Mr. Vincent soon departed, but before he left he promised the Brownies again he would see that a lock was put on the door of the tree house.

“He’s real nice,” declared Rosemary, watching until the carpenter was out of sight on the trail. “Imagine offering to help Mrs. Myles—almost a stranger!”

“She may be a stranger to us, but he knows her well,” Connie declared thoughtfully. “Didn’t you notice how he listened to every word we said about her?”

“He’s well acquainted with her—or was,” agreed Veve. “I think he has a special reason for wanting us to help her—one he isn’t telling about.”

“Mr. Vincent did act mysteriously,” Connie admitted. “And don’t you remember, Veve? Mrs. Myles bristled up the other day when we mentioned Mr. Vincent’s name!”

“That’s so!” Veve replied. “Oh, playing Red Riding Hood will be a lot of fun! Not only can we help Mrs. Myles, but we may run into some very interesting information!”