Summary

Lilian Garis The Girl Scouts at Bellaire; Or…

Dunbar's voice being heard over the din of merry-making in the dining-room, for just then Grace was making a speech, and Madaline was applauding, while Cleo quickly fell in with the fun, by parading around the room with a table candle in each hand, and an upturned fruit basket on her head.
Mary sat back on the window seat, spellbound. Being a real girl in spite of her peculiarities, she would occasionally burst into the most musical ripple of laughter, then suddenly check herself, as if fearful of violating some obligation to be sad or melancholy.
Source: Gutenberg

Lilian Garis The Girl Scouts at Bellaire; Or…

Mary, you are getting rosy already. It seems to me, for an old nurse your Reda has rather suddenly given up her charge, not to have inquired for you this morning."
"Oh, Reda wouldn't. She is dreadfully afraid of strangers," replied
Mary.
"Why—pray?" asked Mrs. Dunbar simply. Mary shifted uneasily, shrugging her shoulders in the only foreign mannerism she carried, and answering with nothing more than a fleeting expression of annoyance.
"Oh, Reda is so queer, Aunt Audrey," Grace assisted, "she would run like an Indian if you just looked at her square in the eye."
Source: Gutenberg

Lilian Garis The Girl Scouts at Bellaire; Or…

Over the hill now to Second Mountain seemed almost too short a run, save that to-day when "Orchidia," the house of orchids, had been looked after, there was to be the visit to Professor Benson, the long wished-for meeting of Maid Mary and her "Grandie."
Everything seemed as usual at the studio. The flowers were blossoming riotously, and the place was heavy with the glory of the tropics confined in a mere glassy room of this temperate zone.
Source: Gutenberg

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