Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer — Part 71

“I can!” she repeated once or twice mechanically. Then her face lighted, as if the meaning of the words had suddenly flashed themselves clear of the thoughts that had been revolving in her mind.

“But what can I do?” she continued doubtingly.

“You can wash the dishes for your mother in the morning so that she can read her morning paper,” some one seemed to whisper. She started. “And you can get up and get breakfast the way Helen does when her mother is not feeling well,” this time the some one spoke very loudly.

“Oh, but I can’t cook, nobody would eat my breakfast,” she thought, still holding back.

“But if you are a Pioneer you should learn to do these things.” She frowned as if to brush aside an unpleasant thought.

“Yes, I suppose I can do these things,” she reluctantly admitted after a moment’s thought. “O dear—I have been lamenting that I had no purpose in life, that I was just drifting. I cried the other day because Mother said my talents were gilt-edged. ‘Yes, I Can,’” suddenly broke from her. “I’m going to begin right now, too; I’ll show Mother that I am not a gilt-edge drifter. I’ll learn to cook—oh, I’ll just make myself do those horrible, horrible things—I’ll show you, Miss I Can, so there!” She hastily wiped away the tears that would come, and then, as was her wont after a mental conflict, she began to sing. A few moments later she was down in the kitchen hustling about, seeing what there was for dinner.

A steak, oh, yes, she knew how to broil that—and potatoes—oh, they were easy! The next minute she had seated herself before the kitchen table, and as she peeled the potatoes she sang with unwonted animation:

“We stick to work until it’s done We’re Pioneers, Girl Pioneers. We never from our duty run, We’re Pioneers, Girl Pioneers. We learn to cook, to sew, to mend To sweep, to dust, to clean, to tend, And always willing hands to lend.”

As she paused to think how she could manage the next vegetable, Mrs. Page entered, showing amazement as she saw what her daughter was doing, for full well she knew that Nathalie disliked anything in the way of housework.

“Why, Nathalie!” she exclaimed, “you need not do that. I will get dinner; there is not so much to do, for Felia made some pies yesterday, and with a steak, thank goodness! there will not be much to cook.”