CHAPTER I

The red-haired girl stared fixedly out of the window. There was nothing to look at but black night, and the light from within turned the glass into a dusky mirror where her image was clearly reflected. But she stared at it unseeingly, busy with her thoughts.

She was very early, but in fifteen minutes or so the Girl Scouts would commence to arrive. It was something of an ordeal to face the strangers and she had planned to be the first one in the room. She thought it a distinct advantage to meet them so rather than to enter the room feeling that the fifteen or twenty pairs of eyes were all noting her and the brains belonging to them were registering the usual formula, "Goodness, what red hair!"

She never could see why people always spoke of her hair. Certainly there were redder heads, and her heavy, waving locks were always perfectly cared for, glossy and brushed with careful attention. She pulled the long braid over her shoulder and looked at it. The braid was thicker than her wrist, and when unbound it reached nearly to her knees. Almost petulantly she swung it behind her and turned her eyes toward the window again. They were queer eyes, a strange sea-green in color, and their black lashes and straight brows gave them a dark and brooding expression. She was pale, but it was not a wholesome pallor. She looked like a girl whose hours were not good, who sat up too late, and ate the wrong kinds of food. Her supple slender hands were bare except for a little finger ring of green jade set in silver. Her wrist-watch showed its tiny face from the center of a silver and jade bracelet. She wore the jewel pushed far up her sleeve.

The door opened, and a tiny figure in the uniform of the Scout Captain entered. The red-haired girl, still staring into the night, did not bother to turn, and with a long glance at the unfamiliar and unfriendly back the little lady who had just entered advanced to the table in the center of the room and arranged the papers lying there. Occasionally she directed a puzzled glance toward the girl at the window, but silence filled the big room and the resolute shoulders showed no sign of curiosity or embarrassment. The little lady at the table smiled. She was well aware that the girl at the window, looking into the dark pane as in a looking-glass, was watching her closely. She frowned suddenly at the girl's rudeness, then smiled and went on with her task.

A little later the door opened and a laughing, chattering group entered. Then and not until then did the red-haired girl rise and advance.

The girls stared, and the stranger's lip curled. Her red hair! It was always so. Walking slowly toward the table, she started to give a perfunctory salute, a salute which changed character and became snappy enough as she felt her gaze held by a pair of deep, compelling eyes. The Scout Captain was tiny and looked not a day over sixteen; but she was the Captain, and the red-haired stranger reluctantly admitted it to herself. She could not complain of the friendliness of her greeting. Wanderer as she was, drifting here and there over the world, a Scout in one place after another, she was aware that here were girls filled with the simplest and most charming courtesy. Each one met her with a sweet warmth of manner that almost pierced her chill and reserve, and when she turned and took her seat as the business meeting commenced, the girls were all along wondering if the stranger was shy, sad, or merely bored. A feeling of puzzled resentment stirred in a few. If the strange girl did not wish to be friendly, why had she brought herself and her jade

green eyes and her queer ring into their happy circle?

The meeting progressed quietly. The strange new element cast a spell over the happy group. It was not as though they were depressed; it was rather as though they were waiting for something to happen, as though it was time for the curtain to go up on a new and exciting play.

The girls, all a little restless by nature, smiled, shifted in their seats and occasionally touched each other with friendly, caressing hands. They regarded the little Captain with adoring eyes and cast questioning and friendly glances toward the newcomer.

She, however, ignored them all. It was as though she sat alone, her strange, deep eyes fixed on the Captain's sparkling face, studying it with cool, impersonal interest. She never changed her easy, graceful position, and her delicate hands rested in her lap motionless as though carved from wax.

The meeting closed, and as was their custom when a new girl joined, the Scouts gathered around the stranger with pretty, friendly advances. As they spoke to her, she regarded them with the same curious gaze she had bent on the Scout Captain.

"We are so glad you have joined us," said a sparkling mite, dancing from one tiny foot to the other. "You say your name is Claire Maslin? Mine is Estella LaRue."

"And mine is Jane Smith," said a tall beauty with golden hair and pansy-blue eyes.

"Plain Jane," laughed little Estella, swinging on Jane's arm.

"Have you just moved to Louisville?" asked another girl softly.

"Yes," said Claire. It was the first time she had spoken and the girls waited breathlessly for more information. But the simple yes was her whole contribution.

"Well, you must let us see a lot of you," said a bright-faced girl with docked hair. "Where do you live?"

"At the Seelbach at present," said Claire Maslin. Her voice was very deep and throaty for a young girl, and she spoke slowly.

Again the girls waited, expecting an invitation to call, but Claire said nothing. The silence grew oppressive. At the table the Scout Captain and a group of the girls were deep in some important discussion. No help could be expected from that quarter. It came, however, as the colored house-boy appeared at the door.

"Cunnel Maslin's car," he announced.

"Good-night," said Claire Maslin, her sudden smile sweeping the group and embracing them all. She left them and, moving easily toward the table, said a polite but brief good night to the little Captain.

"We will see you out," said Estella LaRue, tugging at plain Jane and accompanying the newcomer to the door. She passively allowed them to come, and the door closed.

In five minutes the two girls, round eyed and astonished, rushed back.

"Oh, what do you think?" cried Jane.

"Yes, what?" echoed Estella, dancing up and down.

"I think she is a fairy princess in disguise," said Jane, nodding her golden head.

"I think she is a grouch," said a stout girl at the table, turning suddenly.

"Why, Mabel, you positively must not say a thing like that!" said the little Captain in a shocked tone. "She is shy, and it is a good deal to come and meet so many girls at one time."

"Do let us tell you what happened!" begged Estella. "We followed her out into the cloak-room, and she put on the best looking hat and Jane commenced to look for a cloak that might be hers. But I was watching her, and she put her hand inside her blouse, and brought out a little handful of stuff and shook it out, and oh dear, oh dear, you never, never saw anything so wonderful!"

"It was a big scarf of silk or chiffon or crepe. Something soft and cobwebby and heavy all at the same time. She wound it around her, and Estella stuttered, 'Won't you freeze in that?'"

"She said, 'My cloak is in the hall,' and we followed her down to the door, and there—"

"Standing against the wall," broke in Estella—

"Like a graven image," interrupted Jane—

"Was a Chinaman!" cried both girls.

"A Chinaman!" exclaimed the crowd as one girl.

"Yes," said Jane, while Estella danced up and down and nodded violently. "He had her cloak over his arm, and she spoke to him in some jabbery language, Chinese I suppose, and he shook the cloak open and put it around her shoulders. It was soft white fur."

"Simply too lovely," sighed Estella.

"Then she said good-night, nothing else, and went out with the Chinaman following," completed Jane.

"Who can she be?" said Estella dreamily.

"A fairy princess, I reckon."

"Fairy fiddlesticks!" laughed the little Captain. "It is all very simple. Her father has been here to see me. He is a colonel in the Army and for a long time was stationed in China. Hence the Chinese servant. Her father, Colonel Maslin, is very anxious to have her know some nice girls. Claire joined the Girl Scouts when they were stationed in Washington. Colonel Maslin says Claire finds it difficult to make advances, and I want you all to be as friendly as you can be."

"Well, I would hate to have a heathen holding my cloak," said Mabel piously. "What did he have on?"

"Chinese clothes, of course, and made of silk, and all loose and baggy and flowing and embroidered, and sort of bluish and purplish and goldish."

"Must have been rather weird," said Mabel, sniffing.

"It wasn't weird one bit," declared Estella. "It was the most gorgeous thing I ever saw except that white fur cloak. Oh, and did you notice that queer ring she wears? Just exactly the color of her eyes. I suppose that is Chinese too."

"She has had a most thrilling life, I am sure," said the little Captain. "I think she can tell us some interesting things when she feels acquainted with us. She is either very reserved or very shy. Don't rush her; just be your own dear friendly selves, my girls, and do all you can for her. Something tells me that Claire Maslin needs us."

"Someone always needs us, seems to me," said Mabel. "We just get one person off our minds when up pops someone else."

"Well, don't you think it is splendid and all sorts of fun to be of service?" demanded a bright, pretty, blond girl with docked hair.

"I suppose so," grumbled Mabel, "but I think sometimes it would be nice to think just about myself for a while."

The girls looked shocked, but the little Captain suddenly laughed. "Very well," she said. "It is worth trying if you think it would make you happy. I will detail you, Mabel, to make a study of this. For the coming week I want you to think wholly and only of yourself. You will keep a daily notebook and jot down exactly what you do for yourself and what you leave undone for others. Be sure to make note of the amount of happiness you get out of it. You will report at our weekly meeting next Saturday. There is an extra meeting on Wednesday but you need not present any report then."

Mabel looked at Mrs. Horton with round, astonished eyes.

"Why, Captain, I can't do it," she said. "My mother wouldn't allow it at all. Why, she simply wouldn't! She is always preaching generosity and unselfishness."

"I don't believe she will notice what you are doing," said the Captain. "If she does, you can explain it to her. Otherwise say nothing at all. This is a Scout order, remember, and I expect you to do it with all your heart. We want to work this out. It will be very interesting to learn just how much pleasure one can get from absolute selfishness. That is what you really mean, you know, Mabel, when you want to live entirely for yourself."

"If everyone did it, no one would have to do anything for anyone else, would they? Everything would be all done, and everyone would be doing just what they liked best to do," said Mabel, sticking to her point.

"Perhaps," granted the Captain. "It is worth trying out."

"Why don't we all try it for a week?" suggested Mabel, feeling that perhaps there was safety in numbers.

"That would be upsetting," said the Captain. "You shall be our pioneer, Mabel."

"Well, mother won't stand for it, I know," said the girl as she pulled on her soft tam-o'-shanter and said good-night. She went out very thoughtfully and the Captain with a queer little smile hurried to the telephone booth and called a certain number. A long conversation with Mabel's mother followed: a conversation punctuated by much laughter and a little sadness.

When the Captain returned to the big scout room, all the girls had gone excepting the three she loved the best. Elsie Hargrave, the little French orphan adopted by Mrs. Hargrave and living in her splendid residence near by; Helen Culver, whose clever father had once been old Mrs. Horton's chauffeur; and the Captain's niece by marriage, Rosanna Horton: Rosanna of the dark eyes and lovely smile; Rosanna, whose tender and generous disposition made her well-loved wherever she went.

"What did you do that for, sweetness?" said Rosanna, putting an arm around the tiny Captain.

"You mean that detail for Mabel?" laughed little Mrs. Horton. "She needs it, and I am sure it will work out exactly right. Mabel is continually fretting about what she has to do for other people and what she is obliged to do at home. I think she is not nearly so selfish as she tries to be, but she is certainly taking a wrong turn. I want to help her if I can."

"She will be punished if she gets any worse than usual," said Helen with conviction. "Her mother just simply hates selfishness and keeps after Mabel all the time."

"Perhaps that is where part of the trouble lies," said Mrs. Horton, nodding her head. "Well, I don't believe she will interfere this time."

"Trust the dear little one to arrange all," said Elsie in her pretty way.

"We will have a good many thrills, I think," said Helen, laughing, "between Mabel's experiment and that funny new girl, Claire Maslin."

Mrs. Horton looked grave.

"Confidentially, girls, I have a feeling that the 'funny new girl' as you call her, is not so funny after all. There is trouble enough there somewhere, and we must help her through."

CHAPTER II

When Mabel Brewster left the Horton residence, she found her brother Frank waiting for her. He was bursting with curiosity.

"Say, Mabe," he exclaimed, "who is the nifty red-head with the Chinese footman? Some style, I say. Who is she?"

"A new Girl Scout," said Mabel absently. Even the mysterious stranger was crowded out of her thoughts by the new orders she was about to follow.

"Well, don't you know her name, or where she lives, or anything about her?" demanded Frank.

"What ails you?" retorted Mabel testily. "I thought you had no use for girls."

"Don't usually," said the lad, "but this one is different. Comes sailing out with that Chink at her shoulder, and she was talking thirteen to the dozen in Chinese or something."

"Talking?" interrupted Mabel. "You don't mean she spoke, do you?"

"Not exactly," grinned Frank. "She simply rattled it off by the yard, and the Chinaman just went along nodding like one of those little china figures with wiggly heads you see in the Japanese shops."

"Did she take the Chinaman along in the car?" asked Mabel curiously.

"Yep! It was a big limousine, and the Chinaman hopped up in front with the driver. Miss Red-head sat alone like a queen. Say, she has wads of that red hair, hasn't she?"

"I didn't notice," said Mabel. "What have you been doing? Playing basketball?"

"Yes, we had a hot game, and I tore my suit all to pieces. I wish you would mend it, please, before Monday night. We are going to have practice games all next week."

"All right," said Mabel absently. Then as she remembered her task she said firmly, "I forgot; I can't mend your suit. Mend it yourself."

"Why, what ails you anyhow?" asked Frank wonderingly. "I can't sew, and I hate to ask mamma, she is always so busy. Why can't you mend it for me, Mabe?"

"Something else I want to do," said Mabel coolly.

"Well, I say you are a selfish pig!" retorted Frank.

"Don't you let mamma hear you talk to me like that!" said Mabel. "You know what you would get."

"It's what you are anyhow, and I will get even with you if you don't come across."

Frank flung this threat at his sister as they entered their modest home. Mabel, flushed and rather uncomfortable, went into the sitting-room where her mother greeted her with a smile. She asked about the meeting, but made no comment when she heard Mabel telling Frank that she did not intend to go to church.

"What are you going to do?" he demanded. "Stay in bed and have your breakfast brought up and loaf all day?"

"I may," replied Mabel boldly.

"If you do, you are a pill!" said Frank hotly.

"Mamma, don't you let him talk to me like that," appealed Mabel.

"Fight your own battles, my dear," said Mrs. Brewster. "If you are not able to compel politeness from your brother and others I feel sure that it is your own fault, and there is no use in someone else demanding it for you. Besides," said Mrs. Brewster, yawning rather openly, "I am tired fussing over you children. I have about decided to go into business."

"Mummy!" cried Frank in a horrified tone.

"Mam-ma!" wailed Mabel.

"Exactly! I am thinking of going into interior decorating now that you children are old enough to look out for yourselves. I have spent a good share of my life looking after you, and now I think I will do something that I have always wanted to do."

There was a long silence. Coming on the heels of her own plan, Mabel listened in amazement. Frank, however, went to his mother and sat down on the arm of her chair. There was a break in his boyish voice when he spoke.

"Mummy, I don't like it," he said. "Are we out of money, or anything like that?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" said Mrs. Brewster easily. "I just thought it would be fun."

"I don't like it," repeated Frank in a hurt tone and, kissing his mother, he left the room and went whistling upstairs. Mrs. Brewster chuckled.

"Frank always whistles when he is cross," she said, looking at her daughter as though she would appreciate the joke. But Mabel did not smile.

"I don't blame him at all," she said stiffly.

"Dear me! What a tempest in a tea-pot!" said Mrs. Brewster. "Here are a lot of stockings belonging to you that need mending. I am going upstairs to read," and she too left the room, calling back, "Be sure to put out the lights."

Mabel, quite stupefied with surprise, sat thinking awhile, then she snapped off the lights, thinking as she did so that it was her mother's usual custom to put the room in order before she left it for the night. But Mabel did not intend to do it. So she left the chairs standing every which way with papers and magazines scattered over the table and her mother's sewing trailing on the floor.

Reaching her own pretty room, she put on a comfortable kimono, arranged the light so she could read in bed, and from under a box divan dug out a paper-covered novel. She read the title with satisfaction, Lady Ermintrude's Lover, or The Phantom of Marston's Marsh. She curled up against the pillows, laying a copy of Longfellow's Complete Poems close beside her as a quick, safe substitute in case of interruption. Then before opening her book, she gave herself up to her thoughts, planning a luxurious and detailed campaign of self-indulgence. She smiled as she thought of the little Captain. It was a good joke on her, because Mabel was shrewd enough to realize that Mrs. Horton was trying to show her that happiness, true happiness, lay in doing for others. Mabel, with the Captain's authority behind her, prepared to fulfill all her dreams. How this was going to strike her mother Mabel could not guess, but her mother was showing a strange, new and unforeseen side. She was glad, and hoped her mother would be so busy with her own plans

that she would fail to notice her daughter's actions. Presently Mabel buried herself in the trashy novel and with many thrills over the foolish and impossible adventures of the Lady Ermintrude forgot everything but her book.

While she was thus employed, Mrs. Brewster, sitting on the foot of her son's bed, her feet curled under her, was deep in a whispered conversation which made both of them giggle like a pair of mischievous children rather than mother and son.

"All right, mummy," agreed Frank finally. "I am game, but I know Mabe will be awfully mad at me."

"Just go ahead and do as I tell you," said Mrs. Brewster, planting a kiss on her son's rumpled hair. "It will all come out right and I will help you when things get too deep."

She went off to bed, and Frank, grinning with pleased anticipation, was almost asleep before the door closed.