a girl really ought to do, it’s kind of funny that I’d want to do it, but I do want to take care of Jamie. I want to take care of him so bad I can’t hardly bear to see Mother touch him. It’s the funniest thing. I thought I liked a horse better than anything else in the world, but I don’t. I like our Jimmy better than any horse, and I like your Jamie about as well as I do ours. I don’t know but just as well, and I don’t care a bit who sees me takin’ care of him. And that’s strange, too. Girls don’t interest me. I have nothing in common with them. I never can think of anything to say to them. I don’t know how to play with them, and I don’t like the things they do, anyway. They’re so sissy. They got no pep to ’em. They got no kick and bang. They won’t play Indians or robbers or policeman or Scouts.
“Now, back up there,” said Jamie. “You’re mistaken, Girls do play Scouts. They not only play Scouts, but they are Scouts, and being is better than pretending any day. There are Girl Scout camps and there are girls that can ride hard and shoot straight and fish and do everything that a boy does, and do some things even better than a boy does and are all the prouder because they are girls.”
The little Scout did not seem deeply impressed.
“Aw, girls! I ain’t got any use for girls! But I’m going home and take a girl’s job ’cause I’m going to see for myself that Jamie’s all right. He’s so little and sweet. My! you’re goin’ to love him! My! you’re goin’ to be glad you got him!”
“Am I?” asked Jamie.
