“Ask Captain Clark,” replied Margaret, with tantalizing exactness, “and of course she won’t tell you.  You don’t suppose one little hollow rock, or even one big wood-man comprises all the natural beauty of River Bend?  Think of the canoes out there now!  And we may even have a ride in them!”

“That’s so, of course,” agreed Grace.  “The Bend is a lovely pine picnic grove.  Who’s going?”

“All True Treds.  We are going to make it Saturday afternoon so as to include the entire troop” (the term mill girl was studiously avoided), “and besides,” continued Margaret, glorying in the importance of her post, “we may have the Venture Troop of Franklin with that pretty little leader, Rose Dixon.  All the girls rave about her.”

“We never knew how pretty those other girls were until we got a close-up view.  That’s a movie term, of course, but it fits,” Cleo analyzed.  “We poor mere Americans can never hope to compete with the girls of foreign parents in the way of eyes.  Did you ever see such big, deep, dark eyes as Olga Neilson carries around?” and Cleo exercised her own blue-gray orbs in emulation.

“One lovely thing about our picnic,” commented Grace, “we will all wear uniform and look so alike.  We will have to depend on our eyes for especial distinction, and as Benny would say, ’I see our finish!’ At any rate, since we can’t get any more mail from the woods, I guess it’s a good idea to go out there and explore again.  Perhaps we’ll discover the secret of the stone man.  Don’t you remember, our history tells us the first records were made in crude carvings on stone?  Maybe he’s the original stone-cutter!” and the laugh that answered did credit to the joke.

Meanwhile preparations for the picnic were being made in a number of localities, and the strings of this story’s may-pole are again encircling a broad territory!

Keen with anticipation, Rose and her constituents were trying their uniforms on this the night previous to the “June Walk,” and if there had been any doubt concerning the popularity of the scout movement, it must have been dispelled when Venture Troop drilled that Friday night.

Molly Cosgrove was proud of her troop.  Never had Americanization seemed so definite in its results.  The mothers of many of the girls attended the drill, and it was held in the Public School auditorium to accommodate all the numbers.  The foreign women in their queer garb formed a most picturesque background for the uniformed troop, and viewing the scene from the gallery, one might have fancied it the picture of some European reconstruction field, with the battalion of uniformed girls led by Captain Molly Cosgrove “on patrol.”

Nora Noon made opportunity to whisper in the pink ears of Rose Dixon the fact that “awards and badges” were going to be conferred on “some of the girls” next day, and Rose felt a suspicion of anxiety at the news.