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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:05:21 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:05:21 -0700 |
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diff --git a/36229-h/36229-h.htm b/36229-h/36229-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ab5e9c --- /dev/null +++ b/36229-h/36229-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8397 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta content="The Camp Fire Girls’ Careers" name="DC.Title"/> + <meta content="Margaret Vandercook" name="DC.Creator"/> + <meta content="en" name="DC.Language"/> + <meta content="1915" name="DC.Created"/> + <meta name="generator" content="ppgen (1.08) generated May 25, 2011 07:58 PM" /> + <title>The Camp Fire Girls’ Careers</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + div.center p {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + table.c {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Camp Fire Girls' Careers, by Margaret Vandercook + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Camp Fire Girls' Careers + +Author: Margaret Vandercook + +Release Date: May 26, 2011 [EBook #36229] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS' CAREERS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Larry B. Harrison and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger'>BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES</p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Ranch Girls’ Pot of Gold</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Ranch Girls at Boarding School</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Ranch Girls in Europe</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Ranch Girls at Home Again</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Ranch Girls and their Great Adventure</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>THE RED CROSS GIRLS SERIES</p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Red Cross Girls on the French Firing Line</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Red Cross Girls in Belgium</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Red Cross Girls with the Russian Army</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Red Cross Girls with the Italian Army</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Red Cross Girls Under the Stars and Stripes</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS</p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Camp Fire Girls Across the Sea</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Camp Fire Girls’ Careers</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Camp Fire Girls in After Years</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Camp Fire Girls in the Desert</span></p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'><span class='sc'>The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div><a name='ifpc' id='ifpc'></a></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='“I Am Sorry,” Billy Replied' title=''/><br /> +<span class='caption'>“I Am Sorry,” Billy Replied</span> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p style='font-size:1.4em; margin-top:2em;'>THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS’ CAREERS</p> +<p style='margin-top:1em;'>BY</p> +<p style='font-size:1.2em; margin-top:1em;'>MARGARET VANDERCOOK</p> + +<p style='font-size:smaller'>Author of “The Ranch Girls Series,” etc.</p> + +<p style='margin-top:2em'>ILLUSTRATED</p> + +<p style='margin-top:2em'>PHILADELPHIA<br/> +THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.<br/> +PUBLISHERS</p> + +<p style='margin-top:4em; font-size:smaller'>Copyright, 1915, by<br /> +The John C. Winston Company</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS</p> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p>Six Volumes</p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>The Camp Fire Girls Across the Sea</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>The Camp Fire Girls’ Careers</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>The Camp Fire Girls in After Years</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>CONTENTS</p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary=''> +<tr><td style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>I.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Success or Failure?</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch1'>7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>II.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“Belinda”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch2'>17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>III.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Friends and Enemies</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch3'>33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Farewell!</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch4'>43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>V.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Other Girls</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch5'>55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Fire-Maker’s Desire</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch6'>82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“The Flames in the Wind”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch7'>74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Afternoon Tea and a Mystery</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch8'>83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Preparations</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch9'>94</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>X.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>More Puzzles</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch10'>105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Christmas Song and Recognition</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch11'>119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>After Her Fashion Polly Explains</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch12'>133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Place of Memories</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch13'>149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Sudden Summons</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch14'>163</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“Little Old New York”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch15'>174</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“Moira”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch16'>185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Reunion</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch17'>195</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Home Again</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch18'>209</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Illusions Swept Away</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch19'>218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Two Engagements</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch20'>233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>At the Turn of the Road</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#ch21'>243</a></td></tr> +</table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>ILLUSTRATIONS</p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary=''> +<tr> + <td>“I Am Sorry,” Billy Replied</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#ifpc'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Polly Stopped Shaking to Glance at Her Companion</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#i013'>13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>She Came Out Carrying Red Roses, Holly and Cedar</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#i063'>63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Why Did You Think I Had Ever Heard of Your Friend?”</td> + <td align='right'><a href='#i151'>151</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<h1>The Camp Fire Girls’ Careers</h1> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span><a name='ch1' id='ch1'></a>CHAPTER I—Success or Failure</h2> +<p> +The entire theater was in darkness +but for a single light burning at +one corner of the bare stage, where +stood a man and girl. +</p> +<p> +“Now once more, Miss Polly, please,” +the man said encouragingly. “That last +try had a bit more life in it. Only do +remember that you are supposed to be +amusing, and don’t wear such a tragic +expression.” +</p> +<p> +Then a stiff figure, very young, very thin, +and with a tense white face, moved backward +half a dozen steps, only to stumble +awkwardly forward the next instant with +both hands pressed tight together. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t—I can’t find it,” she began +uncertainly, “I have searched——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +</p> +<p> +Lifting her eyes at this moment to her +companion’s, Polly O’Neill burst into tears. +</p> +<p> +“I am a hopeless, abject failure, Mr. +Hunt, and I shall never, never learn to +act in a thousand years. There is no use +in your trying to teach me, for if we remain +at the theater for the rest of the day I shall +make exactly the same mistakes tonight. +Oh, how can I possibly play a funny character +when my teeth are positively chattering +with fright even at a rehearsal? It is +sheer madness, my daring to appear with +you and Margaret Adams before a first-night +New York audience and in a new +play. Even if I have only a tiny part, I +can manage to make just as great a mess +of it. Why, why did I ever dream I wished +to have a career, I wonder. I only want to +go back home this minute to Woodford and +never stir a step away from that blessed +village as long as I live.” +</p> +<p> +“Heigho, says Mistress Polly,” quoted +her companion and then waited without +smiling while the girl dried her tears. +</p> +<p> +“But you felt very differently from this +several years ago when you acted with +me in <i>The Castle of Life</i>,” he argued in a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> +reassuring tone. “Besides, you were then +very young and had not had two years of +dramatic training. I was amazed at your +self-confidence, and now I don’t understand +why you should feel so much more nervous.” +</p> +<p> +Polly squared her slender shoulders. “Yes +you do, Mr. Hunt,” she insisted, bluntly. +“However, if you really don’t understand, +I think I can make you see in a moment. +Four years ago when I behaved like a +naughty child and without letting my +friends or family know acted the part of +the fairy of the woods in the Christmas +pantomime, I had not the faintest idea of +what a serious thing I was attempting. I +did not even dream of how many mistakes +I <i>could</i> make. Besides, that was only a +school-girl prank and I never thought that +any one in the audience might know me. +But now, why at this moment I can hear +dozens of people whispering: ‘See that +girl on the stage there taking the character +of the maid, Belinda; she is Polly O’Neill. +You may remember that she is one of the +old Sunrise Hill Camp Fire girls and for +years has been worrying her family to let +her become an actress. I don’t believe she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +will ever make a success. Really, she is +the worst stick I ever saw on the stage!’” +</p> +<p> +And so real had her imaginary critic +become that Polly shuddered and then +clasped her hands together in a tragic +fashion. +</p> +<p> +“Then think of my poor mother and my +sister, Mollie, and Betty Ashton and a +dozen or more of my old Camp Fire friends +who have come to New York to see me make +my début tonight! Can’t you tell Miss +Adams I am ill; isn’t there some one who +can take my place? I really am ill, you +know, Mr. Hunt,” Polly pleaded, the tears +again starting to her eyes. +</p> +<p> +Since Polly’s return from the summer in +Europe, two years of eager ambition and +hard work had been spent in a difficult +training. As a result she looked older and +more fragile. This morning her face was +characteristically pale and the two bright +patches of color usually burning on her +cheek bones had vanished. Her chin had +become so pointed that it seemed almost +elfish, and her head appeared too small for +its heavy crown of jet-black hair. Indeed, +at this time in her life, in the opinion of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +strangers, only the blueness of her eyes +with the Irish shadows underneath saved +the girl from positive plainness. To her +friends, of course, she was always just +Polly and so beyond criticism. +</p> +<p> +Having finally through years of persuasion +and Margaret Adams’ added influence +won her mother’s consent to follow the +stage for her profession, Polly had come to +New York, where she devoted every possible +hour of the day and night to her +work. There had been hundreds of lessons +in physical culture, in learning to walk +properly and to sit down. Still more +important had been the struggle with the +pronunciation of even the simplest words, +besides the hundred and one minor lessons +of which the outsider never dreams. Polly +had continued patient, hard-working and +determined. No longer did she give performances +of Juliet, draped in a red tablecloth, +before audiences of admiring girls. +</p> +<p> +Never for a moment since their first +meeting at the Camp Fire play in Sunrise +Hill cabin had Margaret Adams ceased to +show a deep interest in the wayward, +ambitious and often unreliable Polly. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +it was who had recommended the school in +New York City and the master under +whom Polly was to make her stage preparations. +And here at the first possible +moment Margaret Adams had offered her +the chance for a début under the most +auspicious conditions. +</p> +<p> +The play was a clever farce called <i>A +Woman’s Wit</i>, and especially written for +the celebrated actress, who was to be +supported by Richard Hunt, Polly’s former +acquaintance, as leading man. +</p> +<p> +Of course the play had been in rehearsal +for several weeks; but Polly had been +convinced that her own work had been +growing poorer and poorer as each day +went by. +</p> +<p> +“Look here, Miss O’Neill,” a voice said +harshly, and Polly stopped shaking to +glance at her companion in surprise. During +the last few months she and Richard +Hunt had renewed their acquaintance and +in every possible way Mr. Hunt had been +kind and helpful. Yet now his manner +had suddenly grown stern and forbidding. +</p> +<div><a name='i013' id='i013'></a></div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src='images/illus-013.jpg' alt='Polly Stopped Shaking to Glance at Her Companion' title=''/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Polly Stopped Shaking to Glance at Her Companion</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span></div> +<p> +“You are talking wildly and absurdly +and like a foolish child instead of a +woman,” he said coldly. “Surely you +must know that you are having a rare +chance tonight because of Miss Adams’ +friendship and you must not disappoint +her. If you fail to succeed, that will be unfortunate, +but if you run away—” Suddenly +Richard Hunt laughed. What a ridiculous +suggestion! Of course Polly had only been +talking in a silly school-girl fashion without +any idea of being taken seriously. +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, Miss Polly, and cheer up,” +Richard Hunt finally said, holding out his +hand, his manner friendly once more; for +after all she was only a frightened child +and he was at least ten years her senior. +“Doubtless you’ll put us all to shame +tonight and Belinda will be the success of +the evening.” Then as he moved away +toward the stage door he added, “It was +absurd of me to be so annoyed, but do you +know, for a moment you made me believe +you really thought of running away. What +about the Camp Fire law of that famous +club to which you once belonged? Did it +not tell you to be trustworthy and not to +undertake an enterprise rashly, but, having +undertaken it, to complete it unflinchingly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +Do go home now and rest, child, things +are sure to turn out splendidly.” And +with a smile of sympathy the man walked +away. +</p> +<p> +So in another moment Polly was standing +alone on an otherwise empty stage, +torn with indecision and dread. Was Mr. +Hunt right in believing that she had +uttered only an idle threat in saying that +she meant to run away? Yet would it +not be wiser to disappear than to make +an utter failure of her part tonight and +be unable either to move or speak when +the eyes of the audience were fixed expectantly +upon her? +</p> +<p> +Slowly the girl walked toward the door, +her face scarlet one moment, then like +chalk the next. She could hear the scene-shifters +moving about and realized that +she would soon be in their way. But +what should she do? Polly realized that +if she went to her boarding place her +mother and Mollie would be there waiting +for her and then there could be no +possible chance of escape. +</p> +<p> +Always Polly O’Neill had permitted herself +to yield to sudden, nearly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +uncontrollable impulses. Should she do so now? +In the last few years she believed she +had acquired more self-control, better +judgment. Yet in this panic of fear they +had vanished once more. Of course Miss +Adams would never forgive her, and no +one would have any respect for her again. +All this the girl realized and yet at the +moment nothing appeared so dreadful as +walking out on the stage and repeating +the dozen or more sentences required of +her. Rather would she have faced the +guillotine. +</p> +<p> +“‘Finvarra and their land of heart’s +desire,’” Polly quoted softly and scornfully +to herself. Well, she had been hoping +that she was to reach the land of her +heart’s desire tonight. Was this not to be +the beginning of the stage career for which +she had worked and prayed and dreamed? +</p> +<p> +Out on the street Polly was now walking +blindly ahead. She had at last reached +her decision, and yet how could she ever +arrange to carry it out? +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span><a name='ch2' id='ch2'></a>CHAPTER II—“Belinda”</h2> +<p> +It was twenty-five minutes past eight +o’clock and at half-past eight the curtain +was to rise on the first performance +of <i>A Woman’s Wit</i>, written especially +for Margaret Adams. And because of +her popularity and that of her leading +man, the house had been sold out weeks +in advance. +</p> +<p> +The action of the play was to take place +in a small town in Colorado, where a man +and his wife were both endeavoring to be +elected to the office of Mayor. Polly +was to play the part of a clever little shop-girl, +whom the heroine had brought into +her home, supposedly as a parlor maid. +But in reality the girl was to do all that +was in her power to assist her mistress in +gaining a victory over her husband. She +was to watch his movements and to suggest +any schemes that she might devise +for their success. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +</p> +<p> +In the act which Polly had recently +been rehearsing she was engaged in trying +to discover a political speech written by +the hero, so that the wife might read it +beforehand and so answer it in a convincing +fashion before the evening meeting +of the Woman’s Club. The play was a +witty farce, and Belinda was supposedly +one of the cleverest and most amusing +characters. Yet whether Polly could succeed +in making her appear so was still +exceedingly doubtful. +</p> +<p> +With this idea in mind Richard Hunt +left his dressing room, hoping to see Polly +for a few moments if possible before the +play began. Perhaps her fright had passed. +For already the man and girl were sufficiently +intimate friends for him to understand +how swiftly her moods changed. +</p> +<p> +Polly had apparently left her dressing +room, since there was no answer to repeated +knockings. She could not have carried +out her threat of the morning? Of course +such a supposition was an absurdity. And +yet the man’s frown relaxed and his smile +was one of unconscious relief when a tall, +delicate figure in a blue dress came hurrying toward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +him along the dimly-lighted +passage-way. The girl did not seem aware +of anything or anybody, so great was her +hurry and nervousness. However, this +was not unreasonable, for instead of having +on her maid’s costume for the performance, +she was wearing an evening +gown of shimmering silk and in the coiled +braids of her black hair a single pink rose. +</p> +<p> +“You are late, Miss Polly; may I find +some one to help you dress?” +</p> +<p> +Instantly a pair of blue eyes were turned +toward him in surprise and reproach. They +were probably not such intensely blue +eyes as Polly O’Neill’s and they had a +far gentler expression, though they were +of exactly the same shape. And the girl’s +hair was equally black, her figure and carriage +almost similar, except that she was +less thin. But instead of Polly’s accustomed +pallor this girl’s cheeks were as +delicately flushed as the rose in her hair. +“Could an evening costume so metamorphose +a human being?” Richard Hunt +wondered in a vaguely puzzled, uncertain +fashion. +</p> +<p> +A small hand was thrust forward without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +the least sign of haste, although it +trembled a little from shyness. +</p> +<p> +“I’m not Polly, Mr. Hunt,” the girl +said smiling. “I am Mollie, her twin +sister. But you must not mistake us, +because even if we do <i>look</i> alike, we are +not in the least alike in other ways. For +one thing, I wouldn’t be in Polly O’Neill’s +shoes tonight, not for this whole world +with a fence around it. How can she do +such a horrible thing as to be an actress? +Polly considers that I haven’t a spark +of ambition, but why on earth should +a sensible girl want a career?” +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Mollie blushed until her cheeks +were pinker than before. “Oh, I am so +sorry! I forgot for the moment that you +were an actor, Mr. Hunt. Of course +things are very different with you. A +man <i>must</i> have a career! But I ought +to apologize for talking to you without +our having met each other. You see, +Polly has spoken of you so many times, +saying how kind you had been in trying +to help her, that I thought for the instant +I actually did know you. Forgive me, +and now I <i>must</i> find Polly.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +</p> +<p> +Mollie was always shy, but realizing all +at once how much she had confided to +a stranger, she felt overwhelmed with embarrassment. +How the other girls would +laugh if they ever learned of what she +had said. Yet Mr. Hunt was not laughing +at her, nor did he appear in the least +offended. Mollie was sure he must be +as kind as Polly had declared him, although +he did look older than she had +expected and must be quite thirty, as his +hair was beginning to turn gray at the +temples and there were heavy lines about +the corners of his mouth. As Mollie now +turned the handle of her sister’s dressing-room +door she was hoping that her new +acquaintance had not noticed how closely +she had studied him. +</p> +<p> +However, she need not have worried, +for her companion was only thinking of +how pretty she was and yet how oddly +like her twin sister. For Mollie seemed to +possess the very graces that Polly lacked. +Evidently she was more amiable, better +poised and more reliable, her figure was +more attractive, her color prettier and her +manner gracious and appealing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid you won’t find your sister +in there, Miss O’Neill. I have knocked +several times without an answer,” Richard +Hunt finally interposed. +</p> +<p> +“Won’t find her?” Mollie repeated the +words in consternation. “Then where on +earth is she? Miss Adams sent me to +tell Polly that she wished to speak to her +for half a moment before the curtain went +up. Besides, Miss Ashton has already +searched everywhere for her for quite ten +minutes and then came back to her seat +in the theater, having had to give up.” +</p> +<p> +Forcibly Mollie now turned the handle +of the door and peered in. The small +room was unoccupied, as the other two +members of the company who shared it +with Polly, having dressed some time +before, had also disappeared. +</p> +<p> +But Richard Hunt could wait no longer +to assist in discovering the wanderer. Five +minutes had passed, so that his presence +would soon be required upon the stage. +Surely if Polly had failed to appear at +the theater her sister would be aware +of it. Yet there was still a chance that +she had sent a hurried message to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +stage director so that her character could +be played by an understudy. Even Polly +would scarcely wreck the play by simply +failing at the last moment. +</p> +<p> +He was vaguely uneasy. He had been +interested in Polly, first because of their +chance acquaintance several years before +when they both acted in <i>The Castle of Life</i>, +and also because of Miss Adams’ deep affection +for her protégé. The man had been +unable to decide whether Polly had any +talent for the career which she professed to +care for so greatly. +</p> +<p> +Now and then during the frequent rehearsals +of their new play she had done very well. +But the very day after a clever performance +she was more than apt to give +a poor one until the stage manager had +almost despaired. Nevertheless Richard +Hunt acknowledged to himself that there +was something about the girl that made one +unable to forget her. She was so intense, +loving and hating, laughing and crying +with her whole soul. Whatever her fate +in after years, one could not believe that it +would be an entirely conventional one. +</p> +<p> +His cue had been called and Miss Adams +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +was already on the stage. In a quarter of +an hour when Belinda was summoned by +her mistress, he would know whether or +not Polly had feigned illness or whether +she had kept her threat and ignominiously +run away. +</p> +<p> +The moment came. A door swung +abruptly forward at the rear of the stage and +through it a girl entered swiftly. She was +dressed in a tight-fitting gray frock with +black silk stockings and slippers. There +was a tiny white cap on her head and she +wore a small fluted apron. She looked very +young, very clever and graceful. And it +was Polly O’Neill, and Polly at her best! +</p> +<p> +For the briefest instant Richard Hunt +and Margaret Adams exchanged glances. +It was obvious that Margaret Adams had +also been uneasy over her favorite’s début. +For her eyes brightened and she nodded +encouragingly as the little maid set down +the tray she was carrying with a bang and +then turned saucily to speak to her master. +A laugh from the audience followed her +first speech. +</p> +<p> +The Polly of the morning had completely +vanished. This girl’s cheeks were crimson, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +her eyes danced with excitement and vivacity. +She was fairly sparkling with Irish +wit and grace and, best of all, she appeared +entirely unafraid. +</p> +<p> +It was not alone Polly O’Neill’s two comparatively +new friends upon the stage with +her, who now felt relieved from anxiety by +her clever entrance. More than a dozen +persons in the audience forming a large +theater party occupying the sixth and seventh +rows in the orchestra chairs, breathed +inaudible sighs of relief. +</p> +<p> +There sat Betty Ashton and Dick and +Esther, who had come down from Boston to +New York City for Polly’s début. Next +Betty was a handsome, grave young man, +who had only a few days before been +elected to the New Hampshire Legislature +by the residents of Woodford and the +surrounding country, Anthony Graham. +On his other side eat his sister, Nan, a dark-eyed, +dark-haired girl with a quiet, refined +manner. Near by and staring straight +ahead through a pair of large, gold-rimmed +spectacles was another girl with sandy hair, +light blue eyes, a square jaw and a determined, +serious expression. Nothing did +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +Sylvia Wharton take lightly, and least of all +the success or failure tonight of her adored +step-sister. For Sylvia’s ardent affection +for Polly had never wavered since the early +Camp Fire days at Sunrise Hill. And +while she often disapproved of her and +freely told her so, as she had then, still +Polly knew that Sylvia could always be +counted on through good and ill. +</p> +<p> +So far as the younger girl’s own work was +concerned there was little doubt of her +success. Each year she had been at the +head of her class in the training school for +nurses and had since taken up the study of +medicine. For Sylvia had never cared for +frivolities, for beaus or dancing or ordinary +good times. Polly often used to say that +she would like to shake her younger step-sister +for her utter seriousness, yet Sylvia +rarely replied that she might have other and +better reasons for administering the same +discipline to Polly. +</p> +<p> +Back of this party of six friends Mr. and +Mrs. Wharton, Polly’s mother and stepfather, +her sister Mollie and Billy Webster +were seated. Billy, however, was no longer +called by this youthful title except by his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +most intimate friends. He had never +since the day Polly had teased him concerning +it, asking him how it felt to be a +shadowy imitation of a great man, used +the name of Daniel. He was known to +the people in Woodford and the neighborhood +as William Webster, since Billy’s +father had died a year before and he now +had the entire management of their large +and successful farm. Indeed, the young +man was considered one of the most expert +of the new school of scientific farmers in +his section of the country. And although +Billy undoubtedly looked like a country +fellow, there was no denying that he was +exceedingly handsome. He was six feet +tall, with broad shoulders and an erect +carriage; his skin was tanned by the sun +and wind, making his eyes appear more +deeply blue and his hair almost the color +of copper. Now seated next to Mollie he +was endeavoring to make her less nervous, +although any one could have seen he was +equally nervous himself. +</p> +<p> +Frank Wharton and Eleanor Meade, +who were to be married in a few months, +were together, and next came yellow-haired Meg and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +her brother, John. Then +only a few places away Rose and Dr. +Barton and Faith, the youngest of the +former group of Sunrise Hill Camp Fire +girls, who had been adopted by her former +guardian and now was known by Dr. +Barton’s name. Faith was an unusual-looking +girl, with the palest gold hair which +she wore tied back with a black velvet +ribbon. She had a curious, far-away expression +in her great blue eyes and the +simplicity of a little child. For Faith had +never ceased her odd fashion of living in +dreams, so that the real world was yet an +unexplored country to her. Indeed, in +her quaint short-waisted white muslin frock, +with a tiny fan and a bunch of country +flowers in her hand, she might have sat as +one of the models for Arthur Rackham’s +spiritual, half-fairy children. Tonight she +was even more quiet than usual, since this +was the first time she had ever been inside +a theater in her life. And had it not been +for the reality of Polly O’Neill’s presence, +one of her very own group of Camp Fire +girls, she must have thought herself on a +different planet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +</p> +<p> +Herr and Frau Krippen had not been +able to leave Woodford for this great occasion, +since they boasted a very small and +very new baby, with hair as red as its +father’s and as Esther’s. But otherwise +it looked singularly like the first of the +Sunrise Hill Camp Fire guardians, the Miss +Martha, whom the girls had then believed +fore-ordained to eternal old-maidenhood. +</p> +<p> +So on this eventful night in her career, +Polly O’Neill’s old friends and family were +certainly well represented. Fortunately, +however, she had so far given no thought +to their presence. +</p> +<p> +Now Belinda must rush frantically about +on the stage, making a pretext of dusting +the while she is eagerly listening to the conversation +taking place between her master +and mistress. Then in another moment +they both leave the stage and Polly at last +has her real opportunity. For with Margaret +Adams present, naturally the chief +attention of the audience would be concentrated +upon her with her talent, her +magnetism and her great reputation. +</p> +<p> +Yet as Miss Adams slipped away with a +fleeting and encouraging lifting of her eyebrows toward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +her little maid, suddenly +Polly O’Neill felt that the hour of her +final reckoning had come. Curiously, until +now she had not been self-conscious nor +frightened; not for an instant had she been +pursued by the terrors that had so +harassed her all day that she had made a +dozen plans to escape. Yet with the +attention of the large audience suddenly +riveted upon her alone, they were returning +like a thousand fiends. +</p> +<p> +Polly felt like an atom surrounded by +infinite space, like a spot of light in an +eternity of darkness. Her voice had gone, +her limbs were stiff, yet automatically she +continued her dusting for a moment longer, +hoping that a miracle might turn her into +a human being again. Useless: her voice +would never return, her legs felt as if they +belonged to a figure in Mrs. Jarley’s waxworks. +</p> +<p> +One could not devote the entire evening +polishing the stage furniture! Already she +could hear the agonized voice of the +prompter whispering her lines, which he +naturally supposed her to have forgotten. +</p> +<p> +In some fashion Polly must have dragged +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +herself to the spot on the stage where she +had been previously instructed to stand, +and there somehow she must have succeeded +in repeating the few sentences +required of her, although she never knew +how she did the one or the other; for +soon the other players made their proper +entrances and the unhappy Belinda was +allowed to withdraw. +</p> +<p> +Yet although Polly could never clearly +recall the events on the stage during these +few moments, of one thing she was absolutely +conscious. By some wretched accident +she had glanced appealingly down, +hoping to find encouragement in the face +of her mother, sister, or Betty Ashton. +Instead, however, she had caught the blue +eyes of her old antagonist, Billy Webster, +fixed upon her with such an expression of +consternation, sympathy and amusement +that she was never to forget the look for the +rest of her life. +</p> +<p> +In the final scene, the one so diligently +rehearsed during the morning, Belinda did +not make such a complete failure. But, +as she slipped away to her dressing room +at the close of the performance, Polly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +O’Neill knew, before tongue or pen could set +it down, the verdict that must follow her +long-desired stage début. Alas, that in this +world there are many of us unlike Cæsar: +we come, we see, but we do not conquer! +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span><a name='ch3' id='ch3'></a>CHAPTER III—Friends and Enemies</h2> +<p> +Standing outside in the dark passage +for a moment, Polly hesitated with +her hand on the door-knob, having +already opened the door a few inches. +From the inside she could plainly hear the +voices of the two girls who shared the +dressing room with her. Neither one of +them had an important place in the cast. +They merely came on in one of the scenes as +members of a group and without speaking. +However, they were both clever, ambitious +girls whom Polly liked. Now her attention +had been arrested by hearing the sound of +her own name. +</p> +<p> +“Polly O’Neill was a dreadful failure, +wasn’t she?” one of them was saying. +“Well, I am not in the least surprised. +Indeed, it was just what I expected. Of +course, she was only given the part of +Belinda because of favoritism. Miss Adams +is such a great friend of hers!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +</p> +<p> +Then before Polly could make her presence +known the second girl replied: +</p> +<p> +“So far as I can see, Polly O’Neill has +never shown a particle of ability at any of +the rehearsals that would justify her being +placed over the rest of us. I am sure that +either you or I would have done far better. +But never mind; perhaps some day we may +be famous actresses and she nothing at all, +when there is no <i>Miss Adams</i> to help her +along.” +</p> +<p> +But at this same instant Polly walked +into the room. +</p> +<p> +“I am so sorry I overheard what you +said, but it was entirely my fault, not +yours,” she began directly. “Only please +don’t think I intended to be eavesdropping. +It was quite an accident my appearing +just at the wrong moment. Of course I am +hurt by your thinking I acted Belinda so +poorly. Perhaps one of you <i>would</i> have been +more successful. But do please understand +that I realize perfectly that I had the +chance given me because of Miss Adams’ +friendship and not because of my own +talents.” Then, though Polly’s cheeks +were flaming during her long speech and her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +tones not always steady, she smiled at her +companions in entire good fellowship. +</p> +<p> +Immediately the older girl, walking across +the floor, laid her hand on Polly’s shoulder. +“I am not going to take back <i>all</i> I said a +while ago, for I meant a part of it,” she +declared half apologetically and half with +bravado. “Honestly, I don’t think you +were very good as Belinda. But I have +seen you act rather well at rehearsals now +and then. I think you failed tonight +because you suddenly grew so frightened. +Don’t be discouraged; goodness knows it +has happened to many an actor before who +afterwards became famous,” she ended in +an effort to be comforting. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and it is all very well for us to talk +here in our dressing rooms about being +more successful than you were,” the second +girl added, “but there is no way of our +proving that we would not have had even +worse cases of stage fright.” She gave +Polly’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Of course, +you must know we are both jealous of Miss +Adams’ affection for you or we would never +have been such horrid cats.” The girl +blushed. “Do try and forget what we said, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +it was horrid not to have been kinder and +more sympathetic. You may have a +chance to pay us back with interest some +day. Anyhow, you are a splendid sport +not to be angry. I am sure it is the people +who take things as you have this who will +win out in the end.” +</p> +<p> +Then no one referred to the subject again. +For it was plain that Polly was exhausted +and that her nerves had nearly reached the +breaking point. Instead, both girls now +did their best to assist her in taking off the +costume of the ill-fated Belinda and in +getting into an ordinary street costume. +For Polly was to meet her family and +friends in a small reception room adjoining +Miss Adams’ dressing room, five minutes +after the close of the play. She would have +preferred to have marched up to the cannon’s +mouth, and she was much too tired at +present either for congratulations or censure. +She heard Mollie and Betty Ashton coming +toward the door to seek for her. +</p> +<p> +Of course they were both immediately +enthusiastic over Polly’s début and were +sure that she had been a pronounced success. +For in the minds of her sister and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +friend, Polly was simply incapable of failure. +And perhaps they did succeed in making the +rest of the evening easier for her. But then +all of her old Camp Fire and Woodford +friends were as kind as possible. To have +one of their own girls acting on a real stage +seemed fame enough in itself. +</p> +<p> +But from two of her friends, from Sylvia +Wharton and from Billy Webster, Polly +received the truth as they saw it. Sylvia’s +came with spoken words, and Billy’s by +a more painful silence. +</p> +<p> +As Polly entered the room, Sylvia came +forward, and kissed her solemnly. The +two girls had not seen each other for a +number of weeks. Sylvia had only arrived +in New York a few hours before. +</p> +<p> +“You were dreadfully nervous, Polly, +just as I thought you would be,” Sylvia +remarked quietly, holding her step-sister’s +attention by the intensity and concentration +of her gaze behind the gold-rimmed +spectacles. “Now I am afraid you are fearfully +tired and upset. I do wish you would +go home immediately and go to bed instead +of talking to all these people. But I suppose +you have already decided because you did +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +not act as well as you expected this evening +that you will never do any better. Promise +me to be reasonable this one time, Polly, +and may I see you alone and have a talk +with you tomorrow?” +</p> +<p> +Then there was only time for the older +girl to nod agreement and to place her hot +hand for an instant into Sylvia’s large, +strong one, that already had a kind of healing +touch. +</p> +<p> +For Mrs. Wharton was now demanding +her daughter’s attention, wishing to introduce +her to friends. Since she had finally +made up her mind to allow Polly to try her +fate as an actress, Mrs. Wharton had no +doubt of her ultimate brilliant success. +</p> +<p> +Five minutes afterwards, quite by accident, +Richard Hunt found himself standing +near enough to Polly to feel that he +must also say something in regard to her +début. +</p> +<p> +“I am glad Belinda did not run away +today, Miss Polly,” he whispered. “Do +you know I almost believed she intended to +for a few moments this morning?” And the +man smiled at the absurdity of his idea. +</p> +<p> +Polly glanced quickly up toward her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +companion, a warm flush coloring her +tired face. “It might have been better +for the play if I had, Mr. Hunt, I’m +a-thinking,” she answered with a mellow +Irish intonation in the low tones of her +voice. “But you need not think I did +not mean what I said. Don’t tell on me, +but I had a ticket bought and my bag +packed and all my plans made for running +away and then at the last even I could +not be quite such a coward.” The girl’s +expression changed. “Perhaps, after all, +I may yet be forced into using that ticket +some day,” she added, half laughing and +half serious, as she turned to speak to +some one else who had joined them. +</p> +<p> +For another idle moment the man still +thought of his recent companion. How +much or how little of her rash statements +did the child mean? Yet he might have +spared himself the trouble of this reflection, +for this question about Polly was +never to be satisfactorily answered. +</p> +<p> +Although by this time the greater number +of persons in Margaret Adams’ reception +room had spoken to Polly either to +say kind things or the reverse, there was, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +however, one individual who had devoted +his best efforts to avoiding her. Yet +there had never been such an occasion +before tonight. For whether he chanced +to be angry with her at the moment or +pleased, Billy Webster had always enjoyed +the opportunity of talking to Polly, since +she always stirred his deepest emotions, +no matter what the emotions chanced to +be. Tonight he had no desire to repeat +the fatal words, “I told you so.” +</p> +<p> +Of course he had always known that +Polly O’Neill would never be a successful +actress; she was far too erratic, too +emotional. If only she had been sensible +for once and listened to him that day in +the woods long ago! Suddenly Billy +squared his broad shoulders and closed +his firm young lips. For, separating herself +from every one else, Polly was actually +marching directly toward him, and she +had ever an uncanny fashion of guessing +what was going on in other people’s heads. +</p> +<p> +Underneath his country tan Billy Webster +blushed furiously and honestly. +</p> +<p> +“You think I was a rank failure, don’t +you?” Polly demanded at once. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +</p> +<p> +Still speechless, the young man nodded +his head. +</p> +<p> +“You don’t believe I ever will do much +better?” Again Billy nodded agreement. +</p> +<p> +“And that I had much better have +stayed at home in Woodford and learned +to cook and sew and—and—well, some day +try to be somebody’s wife?” the girl +ended a little breathlessly. +</p> +<p> +This time Billy Webster did not mince +matters. “I most assuredly do,” he answered +with praiseworthy bluntness. +</p> +<p> +Now for the first time since her fiasco +as Belinda, Polly’s eyes flashed with something +of their old fire. And there in the +presence of the company, though unheeded +by them, she stamped her foot just as she +always had as a naughty child. +</p> +<p> +“I will succeed, Billy Webster, I will, +I will! I don’t care how many failures +I may make in learning! And just because +I want to be a good actress is no reason +why I can’t marry some day, if there is +any man in the world who could both +love and understand me and who would +not wish to make me over according to +his own particular pattern.” Then Polly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +smiled. “Thank you a thousand times, +though, Billy, for you are the solitary +person who has done me any good tonight. +It is quite like old times, isn’t it, for us +to start quarreling as soon as we meet. +But, farewell, I must go home now and to +bed.” Polly held out her hand. “You +are an obstinate soul, Billy, but I can’t +help admiring you for the steadfast way +in which you disapprove of me.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span><a name='ch4' id='ch4'></a>CHAPTER IV—Farewell!</h2> +<p> +Margaret Adams was in her +private sitting room in her own +home, an old-fashioned red brick +house near Washington Square. She had +been writing letters for more than an +hour and had just seated herself in a +big chair and closed her eyes. She looked +very young and tiny at this instant to +be such a great lady. Her silk morning +dress was only a shade lighter than the +rose-colored chair. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly ten fingers were lightly laid +over her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Guess who I am or I shall never +release you,” a rich, soft voice demanded, +and Margaret Adams drew the fingers +down and kissed them. +</p> +<p> +“Silly Polly, as if it could be any one +else? What ever made you come out +in this rain, child? You had a cold, anyway, +and it is a perfectly beastly day.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +</p> +<p> +Instead of replying, Polly sat down in +front of a small, open fire, putting her +toes up on the fender. +</p> +<p> +“You are a hospitable lady,” she remarked +finally, “but I am not wet specially. +I left my damp things down stairs +so as not to bring them into this pretty +room. It always makes me think of the +rose lining to a cloud; one could never +have the blues in here.” +</p> +<p> +The room was charming. The walls +were delicately pink, almost flesh color, +with a deeper pink border above. A few +original paintings were hung in a low +line—one of an orchard with apple trees +in spring bloom. The mantel was of +white Italian marble with a bust of Dante’s +Beatrice upon it and this morning it also +held a vase of roses. Over near the window +a desk of inlaid mahogany was littered +with letters, papers, writing materials +and photographs. On a table opposite +the newest magazines and books were carefully +arranged, together with a framed +photograph of Polly and Margaret Adams’ +taken when they were in London several +years before. There was also a photograph of Richard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +Hunt and several others +of distinguished men and women who +were devoted friends of the famous actress. +</p> +<p> +A big, rose-colored divan was piled with +a number of silk and velvet cushions of +pale green and rose. Then there were +other odd chairs and tables and shaded +lamps and curtains of rose-colored damask +hung over white net. But the room was +neither too beautiful nor fanciful to be +homelike and comfortable. Two or three +ugly things Margaret Adams still kept +near her for old associations’ sake and +these alone, Polly insisted, made it possible +for her to come into this room. For +she, too, was an ugly thing, allowed to +stay there now and then because of past +association. +</p> +<p> +Polly was not looking particularly well +today. She had been acting for ten days +in <i>A Woman’s Wit</i>, though that would +scarcely explain her heavy eyelids, nor +her colorless cheeks. Polly’s eyes were +so big in her white face and her hair so +black that actually she looked more like +an Irish pixie than an ordinary every-day +girl. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +</p> +<p> +“You’ll stay to lunch with me, Polly, +and I’ll send you home in my motor,” +Margaret Adams announced authoritatively. +“I suppose your mother and Mollie +have gone back to Woodford? I know +Betty has returned to Boston, she came in +to say good-by and to tell me that she is +spending the winter in Boston with her +brother, Dr. Ashton, and his wife. Betty +is really prettier than ever, don’t you +think so? I believe it was you, Polly, +who really saved Betty from marrying +her German princeling, but what will the +child do now without you to look after her?” +</p> +<p> +Margaret Adams arose and walked across +the room, presumably to ring for her +maid, but in reality to have a closer look +at her visitor. For Polly had not yet +answered her idle questions; nor did she +even show the slightest interest in the +mention of her beloved Betty’s name. +Something most unusual must be the +matter with her. +</p> +<p> +“I <i>should</i> like to stay to lunch if no one +else is coming,” Polly returned a moment +later. “I did not like to disturb you earlier. +There is something I want to tell you and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +so I might as well say it at once. I am not +going to try to act Belinda any longer. +I am going away from New York tomorrow. +Yet you must not think I am ungrateful, +even though I am not going to tell you +where I am going nor what I intend to do.” +Polly clasped her thin arms about her +knees and began slowly rocking herself +back and forth with her eyes fastened on the +fire, as though not daring to glance toward +her friend. +</p> +<p> +At first Margaret Adams made no reply. +Then she answered coldly and a little +disdainfully: “So you are playing the +coward, Polly! Instead of trying each +night to do better and better work you are +running away. If for an instant I had +dreamed that you had so little courage, so +little backbone, I never should have encouraged +you to enter one of the most difficult +professions in the whole world. Come, +dear, you are tired and perhaps ill. I ought +not to scold you. But I want you to forget +what you have just said. Goodness +knows, I have not forgotten the bitterly +discouraged days I used to have and do still +have every now and then. Only somehow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +I hoped a Camp Fire girl might be different, +that her club training might give her +fortitude. Remember ‘Wohelo means work. +We glorify work because through work we +are free. We work to win, to conquer and +be masters. We work for the joy of working +and because we are free.’ Long ago I +thought you and I decided that the Camp +Fire rules would apply equally well to +whatever career a girl undertook, no matter +what she might try to do or be.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I have not forgotten; I think of our +old talks very often,” was Polly’s unsatisfactory +reply. +</p> +<p> +A little nearer the fire Margaret Adams +now drew her own big chair. It was +October and the rain was a cold one, making +the blaze comforting. The whole atmosphere +of the room was peculiarly intimate +and cozy and yet the girl did not appear +any happier. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder if you would like to hear of my +early trials, Polly?” Margaret asked. “Not +because they were different from other +people’s, but perhaps because they were so +like. I believe I promised to tell you my +history once several years ago.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +</p> +<p> +The older woman did not glance toward +her visitor, as she had no doubt of her +interest. Instead she merely curled herself +up in her chair like a girl eager to tell +a most interesting story. +</p> +<p> +“You see, dear, I made my début not +when I was twenty-one like you are, but +when I was exactly seven. Of course even +now one does not like to talk of it, but I +never remember either my father or mother. +They were both actors and died when I was +very young, leaving me without money and +to be brought up in any way fate chose. +I don’t know just why I was not sent at +once to an orphan asylum, but for some +reason or other a woman took charge of me +who used to do all kinds of odd work about +the theater, help mend clothes, assist with +the dressing, scrub floors if necessary. She +was frightfully poor, so of course there is +no blame to be attached to her for making +me try to earn my own bread as soon as +possible. And bread it was <i>actually</i>.” +Margaret Adams laughed, yet not with the +least trace of bitterness. “A child was +needed in a play, one of the melodramas +that used to be so popular when I was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +young, a little half-starved waif. I dare +say I had no trouble in looking the part. +You see I’m not very big now, Polly, so I +must have been a ridiculously thin, homely +child, all big staring eyes and straight +brownish hair. I was engaged to stand +outside a baker’s shop window gazing wistfully +in at a beautiful display of shiny currant +buns until the heroine appeared. +Then, touched by my plight, she nobly +presented me with a penny with which I +purchased a bun. Well, dear, that piece +of bread was all the pay I received for my +night’s performance, and it was all the +supper I had. One night—funny how I +can recall it all as if it were yesterday—coming +out of the shop I stumbled, dropped +my bun and at the same instant saw it +rolling away from me down toward the +blazing row of footlights. I had not a +thought then of where I was or of anything +in all the world but that I was a desperately +hungry child, losing my supper. So with +a pitiful cry I jumped up and ran after +my bread. When I picked it up I think +I hugged it close to me like a treasure and +kissed it. Well, dear, you can imagine that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +the very unconsciousness, the genuineness +of the little act won the audience. I know a +good many people cried that night and +afterwards. The reason I still remember the +little scene so perfectly was because after +that first time I had to do the same thing +over and over again as long as the play ran. +It was my first ‘hit,’ Polly, though I never +understood what it meant for years and +years afterwards.” +</p> +<p> +“Poor baby,” Polly whispered softly, +taking her friend’s hand and touching it +with her lips. “But I don’t care how or +why the thing happened I have always +known that you must have been a genius +from the very first.” +</p> +<p> +“Genius?” The older woman smiled, +shaking her head. “I don’t think so, +Polly; I may have had some talent, although +it took me many years to prove it. Mostly +it has all been just hard work with me and +beginning at seven, you see I have had a +good many years. Do you think I became +famous immediately after I captured the +audience and the bun? My dear, I don’t +believe I have ever known another girl as +impossible as I was as an actress after I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +finally grew up. I did not continue acting. +My foster mother married and I was then +sent to school for a number of years. +Finally, when I was sixteen, I came back +to the stage, though I did not have a speaking +part till five years later. You see, I was +not pretty, and I never got very big in spite +of the buns. It was not until I played in +<i>The Little Curate</i> years after that I made +any kind of reputation.” +</p> +<p> +Margaret Adams leaned over and put +both hands on Polly’s thin shoulders. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you see, dear, how silly, how +almost wicked you will be if you run away +from the opportunity I am able to give +you. I never had any one to help me. It +was all nothing but hard, wearing work and +few friends, with almost no encouragement.” +</p> +<p> +“I see, Margaret,” Polly returned +gravely. Then, getting up, she sat for a +few moments on the arm of her friend’s +chair. “Yet I <i>must</i> give up the chance +you have given me just the same, dear, and +I <i>must</i> go away from New York tomorrow. +I can’t tell you why I am going or where +because I am afraid you might dissuade me. +Oh, I suppose it is foolish, even mad, of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +me, but I would not be myself if I were +reasonable, and I am doing what seems +wisest to me. I have written to mother +and made her understand and to Sylvia +because she almost forced me into promising +her that I would keep her informed this +winter where I was and what I was doing. +I am not confiding in any one else in the +whole world. But if you think I am ungrateful, +Margaret, you think the very wrongest +thing in the whole world and I’ll prove it +to you one day, no matter what it costs. +The most dreadful part is that I am not +going to be able to see you for a long time. +That is the hardest thing. You will never +know what you have meant to me in these +last few years when I have been away from +home and my old friends. But I believe +you are lonely too, dear, now and then in +spite of your reputation and money and all +the people who would like to know you.” +Polly got up now and began walking +restlessly about the room, not knowing +how to say anything more without betraying +her secret. +</p> +<p> +She glanced at the photograph of Richard +Hunt. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +</p> +<p> +“Are you and Mr. Hunt very special +friends, Margaret?” Polly asked, an idea +having suddenly come into her mind. “I +think he is half as nice as you are and that +is saying a great deal.” +</p> +<p> +For a perceptible moment Margaret +Adams did not reply and then she seemed +to hesitate, perhaps thinking of something +else. “Yes, we have been friends for a +number of years, sometimes intimate ones, +sometimes not,” she returned finally. “But +I don’t want to talk about Mr. Hunt. I +still want to be told what mad thing Polly +O’Neill is planning to do next.” +</p> +<p> +“And if she can’t tell you?” Polly +pleaded. +</p> +<p> +“Then I suppose I will have to forgive +her, because friendship without faith is of +very little value.” +</p> +<p> +And at this instant Margaret Adams’ +maid came in to announce luncheon. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span><a name='ch5' id='ch5'></a>CHAPTER V—Other Girls</h2> +<p> +“No, I am not in the least unhappy +or discontented either, Esther; +I don’t know how you can say +such a thing,” Betty Ashton answered +argumentatively. “You talk as though +I did not like living here with you and +Dick. You know perfectly well I might +have gone south with mother for the winter +if I had not a thousand times preferred +staying with you.” Yet as she finished her +speech, quite unconsciously Betty sighed. +</p> +<p> +She and Esther were standing in a +pretty living room that held a grand piano, +shelves of books, a desk and reading table; +indeed, a room that served all purposes +except that of sleeping and dining. For +Dick and Esther had taken a small house +on the outskirts of Boston and were beginning +their married life together as simply +as possible, until Dr. Ashton should make +a name and fame for himself. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +</p> +<p> +Esther was now dressed for going out in +a dark brown suit and hat with mink furs +and a muff. Happiness and the fulfilling +of her dreams had given her a beauty and +dignity which her girlhood had not held. +She was larger and had a soft, healthy +color. With the becoming costumes which +Betty now helped her select her red hair +had become a beauty rather than a disfigurement +and the content in her eyes +gave them more color and depth, while +about her always beautiful mouth the lines +were so cheerful and serene that strangers +often paused to look at her the second time +and then went their way with a new sense +of encouragement. +</p> +<p> +Betty had no thought of going out, +although it was a brilliant December day. +She had on a blue cashmere house dress +and her hair was loosely tucked up on her +head in a confusion of half-tangled curls. +She had evidently been dusting, for she +still held a dusting cloth in her hand. +Her manner was listless and uninterested, +and she was pale and frowning a little. +Her gayety and vitality, temporarily at +least, were playing truant. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +</p> +<p> +“Still I know perfectly well, Betty dear, +that you came to be with Dick and me this +winter not only because you wanted to +come, but because you knew your board +would help us along while Dick is getting +his start. So it is perfectly natural that +you should be lonely and miss your old +friends in Woodford. Of course, Meg isn’t +far away here at Radcliffe, but she is so +busy with Harvard students as well as +getting her degree that you don’t see much +of each other. Suppose you come now and +take a walk with me, or else you ride with +Dick and I’ll go on the street car. I am +only going to church for a rehearsal. You +know I am to sing a solo on Sunday,” +Esther continued in a persuasive tone. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and of course Dick would so much +prefer taking his sister to ride than taking +his wife,” the other girl returned rather +pettishly, abstractedly rubbing the surface +of the mahogany table which already shone +with much polishing. +</p> +<p> +Esther shook her head. “Well, even +though you won’t confess it, something is +the matter with you, Betty. You have +not been a bit like yourself since you were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +in Woodford last fall. Something must +have happened there. I don’t wish your +confidence unless you desire to give it me. +But even while we were in New York, you +were cold and stiff and unlike yourself, +especially to Anthony Graham, and I +thought you used to be such good friends.” +</p> +<p> +There was no lack of color now in Betty +Ashton’s face, although she still kept her +back turned to her older sister. +</p> +<p> +“We are not special friends any longer,” +she returned coldly, “though I have nothing +in the world against Anthony. Of +course, I consider that he is rather spoiled +by his political success, being elected to +the Legislature when he is so young, but +then that is not my affair.” Betty now +turned her face toward her sister. “I +suppose I need something to do—that is +really what is the matter with me, Esther +dear. Lately I have been thinking that I +am the only one of the old Sunrise Hill +Camp Fire girls who amounts to nothing. +And I wanted so much to be loyal to our +old ideals. There is Meg at college, Sylvia +and Nan both studying professions, Edith +married and Eleanor about to be. You +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +have Dick, your music and your house, +Mollie is relieving her mother of the +responsibility of their big establishment +and even little Faith had a poem published +in a magazine last week. It is hard to be +the only failure. Then of course there is +Polly!” +</p> +<p> +“Never a word from her in all this +time?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a line since the note I received +from her last October asking me not to be +angry if I did not hear from her in a long +time. No one has the faintest idea what +has become of her—none of her friends, not +even Mollie knows. I suppose she is all +right though, because her mother is satisfied +about her. Yet I can’t help wondering +and feeling worried. What on earth +could have induced Polly O’Neill to give +up her splendid chance with Miss Adams, +a chance she has been working and waiting +for these two years?” Betty shrugged her +shoulders. “It is stupid of me to be asking +such questions. No one yet has ever found +the answer to the riddle of Polly O’Neill. +Perhaps that is why she is so fascinating. +I always do and say exactly what people +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +expect, so no wonder I am uninteresting. +But there, run along, Esther, I hear Dick +whistling for you. Don’t make him late. +Perhaps I’ll get over having ‘the dumps’ +while you are away.” +</p> +<p> +Esther started toward the door. “If +only I could think of something that would +interest or amuse you! I can’t get hold of +Polly to cheer you up, but I shall write +Mrs. Wharton this very evening and ask +her to let Mollie come and spend Christmas +with us. I believe Dick has already asked +Anthony Graham. You won’t mind, will +you, Betty? We wanted to have as many +old friends as possible in our new house.” +</p> +<p> +Once again Betty flushed uncomfortably, +although she answered carelessly enough. +“Certainly I don’t mind. Why should I? +Now do run along. Perhaps I’ll make you +and Dick a cake while you are gone. An +old maid needs to have useful accomplishments.” +</p> +<p> +Esther laughed. “An old maid at +twenty-one! Well, farewell, Spinster Princess. +I know you are a better cook and +housekeeper than I am.” In answer to +her husband’s more impatient whistling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +Esther fled out of the room, though still +vaguely troubled. Betty was not in good +spirits, yet what could be the matter with +her? Of course, she missed the stimulus +of Polly’s society; however, that in itself +was not a sufficient explanation. What +could have happened between Betty and +Anthony? Actually, there had been a +time when Dick had feared that they might +care seriously for each other. Thank +goodness, that was a mistake! +</p> +<p> +Left alone Betty slowly drew out a letter +from inside her blue gown. It had previously +been opened; but she read it for the +second time. Then, lighting a tall candle +on the mantel, she placed the letter in the +flame, watching it burn until finally the +charred scraps were thrown aside. +</p> +<p> +Betty had evidently changed her mind in +regard to her promise to her sister. For +instead of going into the kitchen a very +little while later she came downstairs +dressed for the street. Opening the front +door, she went out into the winter sunshine +and started walking as rapidly as possible +in the direction of one of the poorer quarters +of the city. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span><a name='ch6' id='ch6'></a>CHAPTER VI—The Fire-Maker’s Desire</h2> +<p> +Outside the window of a small +florist’s shop Betty paused for an +instant. Then she stepped in and +a little later came out carrying half a dozen +red roses and a bunch of holly and fragrant +cedar. Curiously enough, her expression +in this short time had changed. Perhaps +the flowers gave the added color to her face. +She was repeating something over to herself +and half smiling; but, as there were no +people on the street except a few dirty +children who were playing cheerfully in the +gutter, no one observed her eccentric behavior. +</p> +<div><a name='i063' id='i063'></a></div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i003' id='i003'></a> +<img src='images/illus-063.jpg' alt='She Came Out Carrying Red Roses, Holly and Cedar' title=''/><br /> +<span class='caption'>She Came Out Carrying Red Roses, Holly and Cedar</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span></div> +<p> + “As fuel is brought to the fire<br /> + So I purpose to bring<br /> + My strength,<br /> + My ambition,<br /> + My heart’s desire,<br /> + My joy<br /> + And my sorrow<br /> + To the fire<br /> + Of humankind.<br /> + For I will tend,<br /> + As my fathers have tended,<br /> + And my father’s fathers,<br /> + Since time began,<br /> + The fire that is called<br /> + The love of man for man,<br /> + The love of man for God.”<br /> +</p> +<p> +Betty’s delicate, eyebrows were drawn so +close together that they appeared almost +heart shaped. “I fear I have only been +tending the love of a girl for herself these +past few months, so perhaps it is just as +well that I should try to reform,” she +thought half whimsically and yet with +reproach. “Anyhow, I shall telephone +Meg Everett this very afternoon, though I +am glad Esther does not know the reason +Meg and I have been seeing so little of +each other lately, and that the fault is +mine, not hers.” +</p> +<p> +By this time the girl had arrived in front +of a large, dull, brown-stone building in the +middle of a dingy street, with a subdued +hush about it. Above the broad entrance +hung a sign, “Home For Crippled Children.” Here for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +a moment Betty Ashton’s +courage seemed to waver, for she paused +irresolutely, but a little later she entered +the hall. A week before she had promised +an acquaintance at the church where Esther +was singing to come to the children’s +hospital some day and amuse them by +telling stories. Since she had not thought +seriously of her promise, although intending +to fulfill it when she had discovered stories +worth the telling. This morning while +worrying over her own affair it had occurred +to her that the best thing she could do was +to do something for some one else. Hence +the visit to the hospital. +</p> +<p> +Yet here at the moment of her arrival +Betty had not the faintest idea of what +she could do or say to make herself acceptable +as a visitor. She had a peculiar +antipathy to being regarded as a conventional +philanthropist, one of the individuals +with the instinct to patronize persons less +fortunate. +</p> +<p> +Long ago when through her wealth and +sympathy Betty had been able to do helpful +things for her acquaintances, always she +had felt the same shrinking sense of embarrassment, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +disliking to be thanked for kindnesses. +Yet actually in his last letter +Anthony Graham had dared remind her of +their first meeting, an occasion she wished +forgotten between them both. +</p> +<p> +The matron of the children’s hospital +had been sent for and a little later she was +conducting Betty down a broad, bare hall +and then ushering her into a big sunlit +room, not half so cheerless as its visitor +had anticipated. +</p> +<p> +There were two large French windows on +the southern side and a table piled with +books and magazines. Near one of these +windows two girls were seated in rolling +chairs reading. They must have been about +fourteen years old and did not look particularly +frail. Across from them were +four other girls, perhaps a year or so +younger, engaged in a game of parchesi. +On the floor in the corner a pretty little +girl was sewing on her doll clothes and +another was hopping merrily about on her +crutches, interfering with every one else. +Only two of the cot beds in the room were +occupied, and to these Betty’s eyes turned +instinctively. In one she saw a happy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +little German maiden with yellow hair and +pale pink cheeks propped up on pillows, +busily assorting half a dozen colors of +crochet cotton. In the other a figure was +lying flat with the eyes staring at the +ceiling. And at the first glance there was +merely an effect of some one indescribably +thin with a quantity of short, curly dark +hair spread out on the white pillow. +</p> +<p> +The matron introduced Betty, told her +errand, and then went swiftly away, leaving +her to do the rest for herself, and the rest +appeared exceedingly difficult. The older +girls who were reading closed their books +politely and bowed. Yet it was self-evident +that they would have preferred +going on with their books to hearing anything +their visitor might have to tell. +Among the parchesi players there was a +hurried consultation and then one of them +looked up. “We will be through with our +game in a few moments,” she explained +with a note of interrogation in her voice. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, please don’t stop on <i>my</i> account,” +the newcomer said hastily. +</p> +<p> +On the big table Betty put down her roses +and evergreens, not liking to present them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +with any formality under the circumstances. +She could see that the little girl who was +sewing in the corner was smiling a welcome +to her and that the little German <i>Mädchen</i> +in bed was pleased with her winter bouquet. +For she had whispered, “<i>Schön, wunderschön</i>,” +and stopped assorting her crochet +work. Then the child on crutches came +across the floor, and picking up one of the +roses placed it on the pillow by the dark-eyed +girl, who showed not the least sign of +having noticed the attention. +</p> +<p> +“She will look at it in a moment if she +thinks we are not watching her,” explained +Betty’s one friendly confidant, motioning +to a chair to suggest that their visitor +might sit down if she wished. +</p> +<p> +It was an extremely awkward situation. +Betty sat down. She had come to make a +call at a place where her society was not +desired and though they were only children, +and she a grown woman, still she had no +right to intrude upon their privacy. She +found herself blushing furiously. Besides, +what story had she to tell that would be of +sufficient interest to hold their attention? +Had she not thought of at least +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +a dozen, only to discard them all as unsuitable? +</p> +<p> +“I believe you were going to entertain us, +I suppose with a fairy story,” began one +of the girls, still keeping her finger between +the covers of <i>Little Women</i>. It was hard +luck to be torn away from that delightful +love scene between Laurie and Jo to hear +some silly tale of princes and princesses +and probably a golden apple when one was +fourteen years old. However, this morning’s +visitor was so pretty it was a pleasure +to look at her. Besides, she had on lovely +clothes and was dreadfully embarrassed. +Moreover, she was sitting quite still and +helpless instead of poking about, asking +tiresome questions as most visitors did. +One could not avoid feeling a little sorry +for <i>her</i> instead of having to receive her pity. +</p> +<p> +Both wheeled chairs were now rolled +over alongside Betty and <i>Little Women</i> was +closed and laid on the table. The next +instant the parchesi game was finished and +the four players glanced with greater interest +at their guest. The girl who had been +dancing about on her crutches hopped up +on the table. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +</p> +<p> +“I am ‘Cricket’ not on the hearth, but +on the table at this moment,” she confided +gayly; “at least, that is what the girls +here call me and it is as good a name as any +other. Now won’t you tell us your name?” +</p> +<p> +“Betty Ashton,” the visitor answered, +still feeling ill at ease and angry and disgusted +with herself for not knowing how +to make the best of the situation. Yet +she need no longer have worried. For +there was some silent, almost indescribable +influence at work in the little company +until almost irresistibly most of its occupants +felt themselves drawn toward the +newcomer. Of course, Polly O’Neill would +have described this influence as the Princess’ +charm and that is as good an explanation +as any other. But I think it was Betty +Ashton’s ability to put herself in other +people’s places, to think and feel and +understand for them and with them. Now +she knew that these eight girls, poor and +ill though they might be, did not want +either her pity or her patronage. +</p> +<p> +“Well, fire away with your tale, Miss +Ashton,” suggested Cricket somewhat impatiently, +“and don’t make it too goody-goody if you can help +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +it. Most of us are +anxious to hear.” Cricket had pretty +gray eyes and a great deal of fluffy brown +hair, but otherwise the face was plain, +except for its clever, good-natured expression. +She gave a sudden side glance +toward the figure on the bed only a dozen +feet away and Betty’s glance followed hers. +</p> +<p> +She saw that the red rose had been taken +off the pillow and that the eyes that had +been staring at the ceiling were gazing +toward her. However, their look was +anything but friendly. +</p> +<p> +For some foolish, unexplainable reason +the girl made Betty think of Polly. Yet +this child’s eyes were black instead of blue, +her hair short and curly instead of long and +dark. And though Polly had often been +impatient and dissatisfied, thank heaven +she had never had that expression of sullen +anger and of something else that Betty +could not yet understand. +</p> +<p> +For Betty had of course to turn again +toward her auditors and smile an entirely +friendly and charming smile. +</p> +<p> +“May I take off my hat first? It may +help me to think,” she said. Then when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +Cricket had helped her remove both her +coat and hat she sat down again and +sighed. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know I have come here under +absolutely false pretences? I announced +that I had a story to tell, but I simply can’t +think of anything that would entertain +you in the least and I should so hate to +be a bore.” +</p> +<p> +Then in spite of her twenty-one years, +Betty Ashton seemed as young as any girl +in the room. Moreover, she was exquisitely +pretty. Her auburn hair, now neatly +coiled, shone gold from the light behind her. +Her cheeks were almost too flushed and +every now and then her dark lashes +drooped, shading the frank friendliness of +her gray eyes. She wore a walking skirt, +beautifully tailored, and a soft white silk +blouse with a knot of her same favorite +blue velvet pinned at her throat with her +torch-bearer’s pin. +</p> +<p> +Agnes Edgerton, the former reader of +<i>Little Women</i>, made no effort to conceal her +admiration. “Oh, don’t tell us a story,” +she protested, “we read such a lot of +books. Tell us something about yourself. Real people +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +are so much more interesting.” +</p> +<p> +“But there isn’t anything very interesting +about me, I am far too ordinary a +person,” Betty returned. Then she glanced +almost desperately about the big room. +There was a mantel and a fireplace, but no +fire, as the room was warmed with steam +radiators. However, on the mantel stood +three brass candlesticks holding three white +candles and these may have been the +source of Betty’s inspiration. +</p> +<p> +Outside the smoky chimney tops of old +Boston houses and factories reared their +heads against the winter sky, and yet +Betty began her story telling with the +question: “I wonder if you would like me +to tell you of a summer twelve girls spent +together at Sunrise Hill?” For in the +glory of the early morning, with the Camp +Fire cabin at its base, Sunrise Hill had +suddenly flashed before her eyes like a +welcome vision. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span><a name='ch7' id='ch7'></a>CHAPTER VII—“The Flames in the Wind”</h2> +<p> +When an hour later Betty Ashton +finished her story of the first years +of the Camp Fire girls at Sunrise +Hill on the table nearby three candles were +burning and about them was a circle of +eager faces. +</p> +<p> +Moreover, from the cedar which Betty +had bought as a part of her winter bouquet +a miniature tree had been built as the +eternal Camp Fire emblem and there also +were the emblems of the wood gatherer, +fire maker and torch bearer constructed +from odd sticks which Cricket had mysteriously +produced in the interval of the story +telling. +</p> +<p> +“That is the most delightful experience +that I ever heard of girls having, a whole +year out of doors with a chance to do +nice things for yourself, a fairy story that +was really true,” Cricket sighed finally. +“Funny, but I never heard of a Camp +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +Fire club and I have never been to the +country.” +</p> +<p> +“You have never been to the country?” +Betty repeated her words slowly, staring +first at Cricket and then at the other girls. +No one else seemed surprised by the remark. +</p> +<p> +In answer the younger girl flushed. “I +told you I had not,” she repeated in a +slightly sarcastic tone. “But please don’t +look as if the world had come to an end. +Lots of poor people don’t do much traveling +and we have five children in the family +besides me. Of course, I couldn’t go on +school picnics and Sunday-school excursions +like the others.” Here an annoyed, disappointed +expression crept into Cricket’s +eyes and she grew less cheerful. +</p> +<p> +“Please don’t spoil our nice morning +together, Miss Ashton, by beginning to +pity me. I hate people who are sorry for +themselves. That is the reason we girls +have liked you so much, you have been so +different from the others.” +</p> +<p> +Quietly Betty began putting on her +wraps. She had been watching Cricket’s +face all the time she had been talking of +Sunrise Hill, of the grove of pine trees and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +the lake. Yet if the thought had leapt +into her mind that she would like to show +her new acquaintance something more beautiful +than the chimney tops of Boston, +it was now plain that she must wait until +they were better friends. +</p> +<p> +“But you’ll come again soon and tell us +more?” Cricket next asked, picking up +their visitor’s muff and pressing it close to +her face with something like a caress. +Then more softly, “I did not mean to be +rude.” +</p> +<p> +Betty nodded. “Of course I’ll come if +you wish me. You see, I am a stranger in +Boston and lonely. But I’ll never have +anything half so interesting to tell you as +the history of our club with such girls as +Polly O’Neill, Esther and Meg and the rest +for heroines. Nothing in my whole life +has ever been such fun. Do you know I +was wondering——” +</p> +<p> +Here a slight noise from the figure on +the cot near them for an instant distracted +Betty’s attention. Yet glancing in that +direction, there seemed to have been no +movement. Not for a single moment did +she believe the little girl had been listening +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +to a word she was saying. For she had +never caught another glance straying in her +direction. +</p> +<p> +“You were wondering what?” Agnes +Edgerton demanded a little impatiently +and Betty thought she saw the same expression +on all the faces about her. +</p> +<p> +“Wondering if you would like my sister, +Esther, to come and sing our old Camp Fire +songs to you some day?” This time there +was no mistaking it. Her audience did look +disappointed. “And wondering something +else, only perhaps I had best wait, you may +not think it would be fun, or perhaps it +might be too much work—” Betty’s face +was flushed, again she seemed very little +older than the other girls about her. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, we would,” Agnes Edgerton answered +gravely, having by this time quite +forgotten the interruption of <i>Little Women</i> +in her new interest. “I know what you +mean, because almost from the start I +have been wondering the same thing. Do +you think we girls could start a Camp +Fire club here among ourselves, if you +would show us how? Why, it would make +everything so much easier and happier. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +There are some of the Camp Fire things +we could not do, of course, but the greater +part of them——” +</p> +<p> +Here, with a sudden exclamation of +pleasure, Cricket bounced off her perch +on the table and began dancing about in a +fashion which showed how she had earned +her name. +</p> +<p> +“Hurrah for the Shut-In Camp Fire +Girls and the fairy princess who brought +us the idea!” she exclaimed. Then, surveying +Betty more critically, “You know +you do look rather like a princess. Are +you one in disguise?” +</p> +<p> +Betty laughed. She had not felt so +cheerful in months. For with Agnes and +Cricket on her side, the thought that had +slowly been growing in her mind would +surely bear fruit. But how strangely her +old title sounded! How it did bring back +the past Camp Fire days! +</p> +<p> +“No,” she returned, “I am not a princess +or anything in the least like one. But +we can all have new names in our Camp +Fire club if we like, select any character or +idea we choose and try to live up to it. +Next time I come I will try and explain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +things better and bring you our manual. +Now I really must hurry.” +</p> +<p> +Betty Ashton was moving quickly toward +the door, accompanied by Cricket, when a +hand reached suddenly out from the side +of a bed clutching at her skirt. +</p> +<p> +“I would rather have that Polly girl +come the next time instead of you; I am +sure I should like her much better,” the +voice said with a decidedly foreign accent. +Then Betty looked quickly into the pair of +black eyes that had been so relentlessly +fixed upon the ceiling. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t wonder you would rather have +the Polly girl instead of me,” she returned +smiling; “most people would, and perhaps +you may see her some day if I can +find her. Only I don’t know where she is +just at present.” +</p> +<p> +So this strange child had been listening +to her story-telling after all. Curious that +her fancy had lighted upon Polly, but perhaps +the name carried its own magic. +</p> +<p> +Out in the hall Betty whispered to her +companion: +</p> +<p> +“Tell me that little girl’s name, won’t +you, Cricket? I didn’t dare ask her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +What a strange little thing she is, and yet +she makes me think of an old friend. +Already I believe she has taken a dislike +to me.” +</p> +<p> +The other girl shrugged her shoulders. +“Don’t be flattered, she dislikes everybody +and won’t have anything to do with the +rest of us if she can help it. Yet her name +is Angelique, that is all we know. ‘The +Angel’ we call her when we wish to make +her particularly furious. She is French, +and we believe an orphan, because no one +comes to see her, though she has letters +now and then, which she hides under her +pillow,” Cricket concluded almost spitefully, +since curiosity was one of her leading +traits. +</p> +<p> +On her way back home, oddly enough, +Betty found her attention divided between +two subjects. The first was natural +enough; she was greatly pleased with her +morning’s experience. Perhaps, if she could +interest her new acquaintances in forming +a Camp Fire, her winter need not be an +altogether unhappy and dissatisfied one. +</p> +<p> +There had been a definite reason for her +leaving Woodford, which she hoped was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +known to no one but herself. It had been +making her very unhappy, but now she +intended rising above it if possible. Of +course, work in which she felt an interest +was the best possible cure; there was no +use in preaching such a transparent philosophy +as Esther had earlier in the day. +But she had no inclination toward pursuing +a definite career such as Sylvia, Nan and +Polly had chosen. The money Judge +Maynard had left her relieved her from this +necessity. But the name of Polly immediately +set her thinking along the second +direction. What was it in the unfortunate +child at the hospital that had brought +Polly so forcibly before her mind? There +was no definite resemblance between them, +only a line here and there in the face or a +slight movement. Could Polly even be +conscious of the girl’s existence? For +Betty felt that there were many unexplainable +forms of mental telegraphy by +which one might communicate a thought to +a friend closely in sympathy with one’s +own nature. +</p> +<p> +But by this time, as she was within a +few feet of Esther’s and Dick’s home, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +Betty smiled to herself. She had merely +become interested in this particular child +because she seemed more unfortunate and +less content than the others and she meant +to do what she could to help her, no matter +what her personal attitude might be. As +for Polly’s influence in the matter, it of +course amounted to nothing. Was she not +always wondering what had become of her +best-loved friend and hoping she might +soon be taken into her confidence? +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span><a name='ch8' id='ch8'></a>CHAPTER VIII—Afternoon Tea and a Mystery</h2> +<p> +Ten days later, returning from another +of her now regular visits to +the hospital, Betty Ashton was +surprised by hearing voices inside the +living room just as she was passing the +closed door. Possibly Esther had invited +some of their new acquaintances in to tea +and had forgotten to mention it. Now +she could hear her own name being called. +</p> +<p> +Her hair had been blown in every direction +by the east wind and she had been +sitting on the floor at the hospital, building +a camp fire in the old chimney place, with +the grate removed, according to the most +approved camping methods. Straightening +her hat and rubbing her face for an +instant with her handkerchief, Betty made +a casual entrance into the room, trying to +assume an agreeable society manner to +make up for her other deficiencies. +</p> +<p> +It was five o’clock and growing dark, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +although as yet the lights were not on. +Esther was sitting at a little round wicker +table pouring tea and Meg, who had +evidently lately arrived, was standing near +waiting to receive her cup. But in the +largest chair in the room with her back +turned to the opening door was a figure +that made Betty’s heart behave in the +most extraordinary fashion. The hair was +so black, the figure so graceful that for +the moment it seemed it could only be one +person—Polly! Betty’s welcome was no +less spontaneous, however, when <i>Mollie</i> +O’Neill, jumping up, ran quickly toward her. +</p> +<p> +“No, I am not Polly, Betty dear! I +only wish I were, for then we should at +least know what had become of her. But +Esther has asked me to spend Christmas +with you and I hope you are half as glad +to see me as I am to be with you.” +</p> +<p> +Half an hour later, Esther having disappeared +to see about dinner as Meg was +also to remain for the night, the three old +friends dropped down on sofa cushions +before the fire, Camp Fire fashion, and with +the tea pot between them began talking all +at the same time. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +</p> +<p> +“Do, do tell me everything about Woodford,” +Betty demanded. “I never shall +love any place half so well as my native +town and I have not heard a word except +through letters, for ages.” +</p> +<p> +Ceasing her own questioning of Meg in +regard to the pleasures of college life, +Mollie at once turned her serious blue eyes +upon her other friend. “Haven’t heard of +Woodford, Betty!” she exclaimed, “what +on earth do you mean? Then what <i>do +you</i> and Anthony Graham talk about +when he comes to Boston? I know he +has been here twice lately, because he +told me so himself and said you were +well.” +</p> +<p> +Suddenly in Esther’s pretty sitting room +all conversation abruptly ended and only +the ticking of the clock could be heard. +Fortunately the room was still in shadow, +for unexpectedly Meg’s cheeks had turned +scarlet, as she glanced toward the window +with a perfectly unnecessary expression of +unconcern. But Betty did not change +color nor did her gray eyes falter for an +instant from those of her friend. Yet +before she received her answer Mollie was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +conscious that she must in some fashion +have said the wrong thing. +</p> +<p> +Yet what could have been the fault with +her question? It was a perfectly natural +one, as Betty and Anthony had always +been extremely intimate in the old days, +ever since Anthony had lived for a year at +Mrs. Ashton’s house. Mollie appreciated +the change in the atmosphere, the coldness +and restraint that had not been there +before. Naturally she would have preferred +to change the subject before receiving +a reply, but she had not the quickness +and adaptability of many girls, perhaps +because she was too simple and sincere +herself. +</p> +<p> +“Anthony Graham does not come to see +me—us, Mollie,” Betty corrected herself, +“when he makes his visits to Boston these +days. You see he is now Meg’s friend +more than mine. But you must remember, +Mollie dear, that Meg has always had +more admirers than the rest of us and now +she is a full-fledged college girl, of course +she is irresistible.” +</p> +<p> +Betty Ashton spoke without the least +suggestion of anger or envy and yet Meg +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +turned reproachfully toward her. Her +usually gay and friendly expression had +certainly changed, she seemed embarrassed +and annoyed. +</p> +<p> +“You know that isn’t true, Princess, +and never has been,” Meg returned, rumpling +her pretty yellow hair as she always +did in any kind of perplexity or distress. +“I never have even dreamed of being so +charming as you are. You know that John +has always said——” +</p> +<p> +Alas, if only Polly O’Neill had been +present Mollie might in some fashion have +been persuaded not to speak at this unlucky +instant! But Polly had always +cruelly called her an “<i>enfant terrible</i>.” +Now Mollie was too puzzled to appreciate +the situation and so determined to get at +the bottom of it. +</p> +<p> +“But does Anthony come to see you and +not Betty?” Mollie demanded inexorably +of the embarrassed girl. +</p> +<p> +Meg nodded. “Yes, but it is only +because Betty——” +</p> +<p> +“Please don’t try to offer any explanation, +Meg, I would rather you would not. +It is most unnecessary,” Betty now interrupted gently, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +in a tone that few persons in +her life had ever opposed. Then, reaching +over, she began pouring out fresh cups +of tea for her friends. “You need not +worry, Mollie, Anthony and I are perfectly +good friends. We have not quarreled, only +he has not so much time these days now +he is getting to be such a distinguished +person. But do tell me whether you have +the faintest idea of what Polly O’Neill is +doing, or where she is, or a single solitary +thing about her?” +</p> +<p> +Always Mollie’s attention could be distracted +by any mention of her sister’s +name and it may be that Betty was +counting upon this. For Meg had gotten +up and strolled over toward the window, +leaving the two other girls comparatively +alone. +</p> +<p> +Bluer and more serious than ever grew +Mollie’s big, innocent eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Polly is well, or at least says she is. +That much mother confides in me,” Mollie +replied soberly. “But where Polly is or +what she is doing I have no more idea than +you have, not so much perhaps. You were +always better at understanding her than I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +have ever been. But then even Miss +Adams has never heard a line from Polly +since she told her good-by in New York +several months ago. By the way, Betty, +Miss Adams and Mr. Hunt are going to be +playing here in Boston during the holidays. +Won’t you and Esther ask them to your +Christmas dinner party?” +</p> +<p> +Betty at this moment got up from the +floor. “Yes, I have seen the notices of +their coming and I am glad. We can have +an almost home Christmas, can’t we?” +Then she walked over toward the window +where Meg had continued standing, gazing +with no special interest out into the street. +The high wind was still blowing and with it +occasional flurries of wet snow. +</p> +<p> +“Do let us draw down the blinds, Meg, +it is getting late and is not very cheerful +outside.” With apparent unconsciousness +Betty slipped an arm about her friend’s +waist and for another instant they both +stared out into the almost deserted street. +</p> +<p> +Across on the farther sidewalk some one +was standing, as though waiting for a +companion. Meg had seen the person +before but with no special attention. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +She was too deeply engaged with her own +thoughts. Betty was differently influenced, +for the figure had an oddly pathetic and +lonely attitude. She could not see the +face and the moment she began closing +the living-room curtain the figure walked +away. +</p> +<p> +Meg chose this same instant for giving +her friend a sudden ardent embrace and +Betty’s attention would in any case have +been distracted. +</p> +<p> +With the lights under the rose-colored +shades now glowing, and Mollie asking no +more embarrassing questions, the atmosphere +of the living room soon grew cheerful +again. For Mollie had a great deal of +Woodford news to tell. Eleanor Meade +was getting a beautiful trousseau for her +marriage with Frank Wharton in the spring +and she and Mollie had been sewing +together almost every day. Eleanor had +given up her old ambition to become a +celebrated artist and was using her taste +for color and design in the preparation of +her clothes. Frank was in business with +his father and would have a good deal of +money, and although Eleanor’s family was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +poor she did not intend to have less in her +trousseau than other girls. Her own skill +and work should make up for it. +</p> +<p> +Billy Webster was succeeding better +each month with the management of his +farm since his father’s death. Now and +then Mollie went to call on Mrs. Webster +and not long ago she and Billy had walked +out to Sunrise cabin. The little house was +in excellent condition, although no one had +lived in it for several years. +</p> +<p> +“It is wonderfully kind,” Mollie explained, +“but Billy has his own men look +after our cabin and make any repairs that +are necessary. He even keeps the grass +cut and the weeds cleared from about the +place, so any one of us could go out there +to live with only a few hours preparation,” +she ended with her usual happy smile. +</p> +<p> +For Mollie O’Neill was not self-conscious +and did not guess for a moment that while +she talked both Betty and Meg were engaged +with the same thought. Was there +still nothing more between Mollie and +Billy than simple friendliness? Once they +had believed that there might be something, +but now the time was passing and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +they were both free, Mollie at home helping +her mother with the house, Billy the +head of his own farm, and yet nothing had +happened. Well, possibly nothing ever +would and they might always simply remain +friends, until one or the other married some +one else. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Mollie started and her color +faded. +</p> +<p> +“I am awfully sorry, Betty, I know how +silly and nervous you and Polly used +always to think me, but look, please!” She +spoke under her breath and pointed toward +the closed blind. +</p> +<p> +There, sharply defined, was the shadow +of a head apparently straining to see +inside the room. It had the effect of a +gray silhouette. +</p> +<p> +The two other girls also changed color, +for the effect was uncanny. Then Betty +laughed somewhat nervously. +</p> +<p> +“It must be Dick, of course, trying to +frighten us, but how silly and unlike him!” +She then walked as quickly and quietly +toward the window as possible and without +a sign or word of warning drew up the +curtain. Some one must have instantly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +jumped backward, for by the time Mollie +and Meg had also reached the window +they could only catch the outline of a disappearing +figure. It was not possible in +the darkness to decide whether it was a +girl or a young boy. +</p> +<p> +“Well, it wasn’t Dick anyhow,” said +Betty finally; “probably some child. However +it might be just as well to go and +tell Dick and Esther. They would not +enjoy a sneak thief carrying off their +pretty wedding presents. And besides it +is time for us to get ready for dinner and +I haven’t yet had time to tell you about +my new Camp Fire.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span><a name='ch9' id='ch9'></a>CHAPTER IX—Preparations</h2> +<p> +A few mornings afterwards a letter +was handed to Betty Ashton at the +breakfast table, bearing a type-written +address. Carelessly opening it +under the impression that it must be a +printed circular she found three lines, also +type-written, on a sheet of paper and with +no signature. It read: +</p> +<p> +“Show whatever kindness is possible to +the little French girl, Angelique, at the +hospital. Pardon her peculiarities and +oblige a friend.” +</p> +<p> +Without a comment Betty immediately +passed the letter to Mollie O’Neill, who then +gave it to Esther. Esther turned it over +to Dr. Ashton, who frowned and straightway +ceased eating his breakfast. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t like anonymous letters, Betty, +even if they seem to be perfectly harmless +and have the best intentions. Besides, who +knows of your going to the hospital except +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +our few intimate friends? I wonder if this +queer child you have spoken of could be +responsible for this letter herself. One +never knows!” +</p> +<p> +Rather irritably Betty shook her head. +“What an absurd supposition, Dick. In +the first place the child dislikes me so that +she will scarcely speak to me while I am at +the hospital. She seems to like Mollie +a great deal better. Moreover, she is the +only one of the group of girls I made friends +with who still refuses to come into our +Camp Fire. If she wished my friendship +she might at least begin by being +civil.” +</p> +<p> +Always as in former days Esther was +quick to interpose between any chance of a +heated argument between Dick and his +sister. Understanding this they both +usually laughed at her efforts. For as long +as they lived Dick would scold Betty when +he believed her in the wrong, while she +would protest and then follow his advice +or discard it as seemed wisest. +</p> +<p> +“But, Betty dear, don’t you consider +that there is a possibility that this Angelique +may have spoken to some relative or friend +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +of your visits to the hospital, who has +written you this letter in consequence. You +see, they may think of you as very wealthy,” +Esther now suggested. +</p> +<p> +But before Betty could reply, Mollie +O’Neill, who during the moment’s discussion +had been thinking the question +over quietly, turned her eyes on her +friend. +</p> +<p> +“Have you any idea who has written +you, Betty?” she queried. +</p> +<p> +For no explainable reason Betty flushed. +Then with entire honesty she answered, +“Of course not.” Surely the idea that had +come into her mind was too absurd to give +serious consideration. +</p> +<p> +“By the way, I wonder what I could be +expected to do for Angelique?” Betty inquired +the next instant, showing that her +letter had not failed to make an impression, +no matter if it were anonymous. “She +has the best kind of care at the hospital; +only she seems desperately unhappy over +something and won’t tell any one what it is. +I know, of course, that she is ill, but the +matron tells me she is not suffering and the +other girls seem quite different. They are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +as brave and gay as if there were nothing +the matter. Cricket is the best sport I +ever knew.” +</p> +<p> +Dr. Ashton got up from the table, leaning +over to kiss Esther good-by. +</p> +<p> +“Well, don’t do anything rash, Lady +Bountiful,” he protested to Betty. “Who +knows but you may decide to adopt the +little French girl before the day is over +just because of a mysterious letter. I must +confess I am extremely glad Judge Maynard’s +will only permits you to spend your +income or you would keep things lively for +all of us. I’ve an idea that it must have +been Anthony Graham who put Judge +Maynard up to making that kind of will. +He must have remembered how you insisted +on thrusting your money upon him at your +first meeting and wished to save you from +other impostors.” +</p> +<p> +Dick was laughing and it was perfectly +self-evident that he was only saying what +he had to tease his sister. For surely the +Princess’ generosities had been a joke +among her family and friends ever since +she was a little girl. And she was still in +the habit of rescuing every forlorn person +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +she saw, often with somewhat disastrous +results to herself. +</p> +<p> +Betty jumped up quickly from her place +at the table, her face suddenly grown white +and her lips trembling. +</p> +<p> +“I won’t have you say things like that +to me, Dick,” she returned angrily. +“Anthony Graham had nothing in the +world to do with the money Judge Maynard +gave me, he has told you a hundred times +he had not. But just the same I won’t +have you call him an impostor. Just +because you don’t approve of me is no +reason why you should——” But finding +her voice no longer steady Betty started +hastily for the door, only to feel her brother’s +arms about her holding her so close she could +not move while he stared closely at her +downcast face. +</p> +<p> +“What is the matter, Betty?” he asked +quite seriously now. “It isn’t in the least +like you to get into a temper over nothing. +You know perfectly well that while all of +us may reproach you for being so generous +we would not have you different for anything +in the world. As for my thinking +Anthony Graham an impostor, the thing is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +too absurd for any comment. You know +he is my friend and one of the cleverest +fellows in New Hampshire. Some day he +will be a Senator at Washington, but I +don’t think he’ll mind even then remembering +who gave him his start. When he comes +here at Christmas I mean to ask him and +to tell him you thought it necessary to +defend him against me.” +</p> +<p> +But by this time Betty had managed to +pull herself away from Dick’s clasp. “If +you speak my name to him I shall never +forgive you as long as I live,” she announced +and this time managed to escape from the +room. +</p> +<p> +Utterly mystified Dick Ashton gazed at +his wife. +</p> +<p> +“What on earth!” he began helplessly. +And Esther nodded at Mollie. +</p> +<p> +“Won’t you find Betty?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +Mollie had already risen, but she did not +go at once in search of her friend, for +although Mollie O’Neill may not have had +as much imagination as certain other girls +she had a sympathy that perhaps served +even better. +</p> +<p> +Out into the hall Esther followed her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +husband, and after helping him into his +overcoat she stood for an instant with her +hand resting on his shoulder. In spite of +the change in her circumstances and in +spite of her own talent and Dick’s adoration +there was never a day when Esther was not +in her heart of hearts both humble and +deeply puzzled by her husband’s ardent +affection. Of course neither he nor Betty +ever allowed her to disparage herself these +days, but that had not changed the essential +elements in Esther’s lovely nature. +</p> +<p> +“Dick, don’t try to understand,” she now +said. “I don’t think we have exactly the +right. Anthony and Betty were friends +once, you know, and you were desperately +afraid they might be something more. +Well, I don’t think there is anything between +them any longer; whether they have +quarreled or not is exactly what I don’t +know. Only if Betty should want to do any +special thing for this little French girl, please +don’t oppose her. It would be an interest +for her and you know we don’t want her to +spend her money on us. She will, you +know, if she has any idea that there is +anything either of us wish that we cannot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +afford to get. Already she says that she +is determined to be an old maid so that her +money can go to——” +</p> +<p> +Esther blushed but could not have finished +her speech as her husband’s kiss at this +instant made it impossible. +</p> +<p> +Dick turned to go, but came back almost +immediately. +</p> +<p> +“See here, Esther, I would not think +of interfering with any sensible thing the +Princess may wish to do with her money. +I only can’t let her be reckless. But about +Anthony Graham. If you think he has +treated Betty badly or hurt her feelings, or +goodness knows what, well I won’t stand it +for a single little instant. He will have to +hear what I think of him——” +</p> +<p> +Positively Esther could feel herself turning +pale with horror at her husband’s +remark, but fortunately she had the good +sense to laugh. +</p> +<p> +“Richard Ashton,” she said, “I am not +often firm with you, but if you ever dare—Oh +goodness, was there ever anything +on earth quite so stupid as a man can +be! No matter what may or may not +have happened between Betty and Anthony +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +there is nothing that you or I can do or +say. You know we interfered as hard +as we possibly could with Betty’s German +lover. We must leave the poor child +to manage some of her own affairs alone. +Anthony seems to be devoting himself to +Meg these days. But he will be in Boston +at Christmas, so perhaps if it is only a +quarrel that has come between them they +may make it up. But how do you suppose +I am ever going to be able to get +through with all my Christmas church +music and give a dinner party with Miss +Adams and Mr. Hunt present and perhaps +have Betty’s Camp Fire girls here for an +afternoon? The child has some scheme or +other of taking them for a drive so that +they may be able to see the Christmas +decorations and then bringing them home +for a party.” +</p> +<p> +“If it is going to tire you, Esther, we +will cut it all out,” was Dr. Ashton’s final +protest as he disappeared to begin his +morning’s work. Dick had been taken +into partnership with an older physician +and his office was several blocks away. +</p> +<p> +At his departure Esther breathed a sigh +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +of relief. At least by dwelling on her +own difficulties she had taken his mind +away from Betty’s odd mood. She did +not understand her sister herself, but certainly +she must be left alone. +</p> +<p> +Late that afternoon when Betty and +Mollie had been doing some Christmas +shopping in Boston and were sitting side +by side on the car, Betty whispered unexpectedly: +</p> +<p> +“See here, Mollie, do you think by +any chance it is possible that Polly O’Neill +could have written me that letter about +the little French girl? Yes, I realize the +question sounds as though I had lost my +mind, as Polly may be in South America +for all I know. Besides, the child never +heard of Polly until I mentioned her in +talking of our old club. But somehow, +for a reason I can’t even try to explain, +I keep thinking of Polly these days as if +there was something she wanted me to +do and yet did not exactly know how to +ask it of me. It used often to be like +that, you know, Mollie, when we were +younger. Polly and I could guess what +was in the other’s mind. We often made +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +a kind of game of it, just for fun. Anyhow +you will have to try and see what +is making that poor child so miserable, +as she seems to like you better than she +does me. Perhaps it is because you are +so like Polly.” +</p> +<p> +Quietly Mollie nodded. Of course Betty +was absurd in her supposition; yet, as +always, she was perfectly willing to help +in any practical way that either her erratic +sister or Betty suggested. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span><a name='ch10' id='ch10'></a>CHAPTER X—More Puzzles</h2> +<p> +On Christmas eve Mollie and Betty +each received notes written and +signed by Polly herself, postmarked +New York City, accompanying +small gifts. Neither letter made any +direct reference to what Polly herself was +doing nor showed that she had any knowledge +of what was interesting her sister +or friend. Her information in regard to +Mollie’s presence in Boston, she explained, +had been received from her mother. +</p> +<p> +Well, of course, it was good news to hear +that at least Polly was alive and not altogether +forgetful of her old affections, yet +there was no other satisfaction in the communications +from her. Indeed the two +letters were much alike and on reading +her own each girl felt much the same +emotion. They were loving enough and +almost gay, yet the love did not seem +accompanied by any special faith to make +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +it worth while, nor did the gayety sound +altogether sincere. +</p> +<p> +Betty’s merely said: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 4em;'> +“My Christmas thought is with you +now and always, dear Princess. Trust me +and love me if you can. You may not +approve of what I am doing, but some +day I shall try to explain it to you. I +can’t ask you to write me unless you will +send the letter to Mother and she will +forward it. Do nothing rash, dear Princess, +Betty, friend, while I am not near +to look after you. Your always devoted +Polly.” +</p> +<p> +With a little laugh that was not altogether +a cheerful one, Betty also turned +this letter over to Mollie. The two girls +were in Betty’s bedroom with no one +else present. +</p> +<p> +“Like Polly, wasn’t it, to tell me not +to do anything rash when she was not +around to run things?” Betty said with +a shrug of her shoulders and a little arching +of her delicate brows. +</p> +<p> +Mollie looked at her admiringly. Betty +had not seemed altogether as she used to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +be in the first few days after her arrival, +but recently, with the coming of the holidays +and the arrival of their old friends, +she certainly was as pretty as ever. Now +she had on an ancient blue silk dressing +gown which was an especial favorite and +her red-brown hair was loose over her +shoulders. The two friends were resting +after a strenuous day. In a few hours +Esther was to give her first real dinner +party and they had all been working +together toward the great event. +</p> +<p> +“But why should Polly warn you against +rashness under any circumstances?” Mollie +returned, after having glanced over the +note. “You are not given to doing foolish +things as she is. I suppose because +Polly is so dreadfully rash herself she +believes the same of other people.” +</p> +<p> +There was no answer at first except +that the Princess settled herself more +deeply in her big Morris chair. Mollie +was lying on the bed near by. Then she +laughed again. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, you need not be so sure of my +good sense, Mavourneen, as Polly used to +call you. I may not be rash in the same +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +way that old Pollykins is, perhaps because +I have not the same courage, yet I may +not be so far away from it as you think. +Only I wish Polly found my society as +necessary to her happiness as hers is to +mine. I simply dread the thought of a +Christmas without her, and yet she is +probably having a perfectly blissful time +somewhere with never a thought of us.” +</p> +<p> +Hearing a sudden knock at their door +at this instant Mollie tumbled off the bed +to answer it. Yet not before she had +time to reply, “I am not so sure Polly is +as happy as you think.” Then the little +maid standing outside in the hall thrust +into her arms four boxes of flowers. +</p> +<p> +Nearly breathless with excitement Mollie +immediately dropped them all into her +friend’s lap. +</p> +<p> +“See what a belle you are, Betty Ashton!” +she exclaimed. “Here you are +almost a stranger in Boston and yet being +showered with attentions.” +</p> +<p> +Gravely Betty read aloud the address +on the first box. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Mollie O’Neill, care of Dr. Richard +Ashton,” she announced, extending the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +package to the other girl with a mock +solemnity and then laughing to see Mollie’s +sudden blush and change of expression. +A moment later the second box, also inscribed +with Mollie’s name, was presented +her. But the final two were addressed to +Betty, so that the division was equal. +</p> +<p> +It was Mollie, however, who first untied +the silver cord that bound the larger of +her two boxes, and Betty was quite sure +that the roses inside were no pinker or +prettier than her friend’s cheeks. +</p> +<p> +“They are from Billy,” Mollie said +without any hesitation or pretense of anything +but pleasure. “He says that he has +sent a great many so that I may wear them +tonight and tomorrow and then again tomorrow +night to the dance, as I care for +pink roses more than any flower. It was +good of Meg to ask Billy to come over +for her College holiday dance. I should +have been dreadfully embarrassed with +one of Meg’s strange Harvard friends for +my escort. And Billy says he would have +been abominably lonely in Woodford with +all of us away.” +</p> +<p> +Mollie’s second gift was a bunch of red +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +and white carnations, bearing Anthony +Graham’s card. “How kind of Anthony +to remember me,” she protested, “when he +was never a special friend of mine. But of +course he sent me the flowers because I +happened to be yours and Esther’s guest +and he is coming here to dinner tonight +with Meg. But do please be less slow and +let me see what you have received.” +</p> +<p> +For almost reluctantly Betty Ashton +seemed to be opening her gifts. Nevertheless +she could not conceal a quick cry +of admiration at what she saw first. The +box was an oblong purple one tied with +gold ribbon. But here at Christmastide, in +the midst of Boston’s cold and dampness, +lay a single great bunch of purple violets and +another of lilies of the valley. Hurriedly +Betty picked up the card that lay concealed +beneath them. Just as Mollie’s +had, it bore Anthony Graham’s name, and +formal good wishes, but something else +as well which to any one else would have +appeared an absurdity. For it was a not +very skilful drawing of a small ladder with +a boy at the foot of it. +</p> +<p> +“Gracious, it must be true that John is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +making a fortune in his broker shop in +Wall Street, as Meg assures me!” Betty +exclaimed gayly the next moment, thrusting +her smaller box of flowers away, to peep +into the largest of the four offerings. “I +did not realize John had yet arrived in +Boston, Meg was not sure he would be +able to be with her for the holidays. It is +kind of him, I am sure, to remember me, +isn’t it Mollie? And there is not much +danger of my being unable to wear John’s +flowers with any frock I have, he has sent +such a variety. I believe I’ll use the +mignonette tonight, it is so fragrant and +unconventional.” +</p> +<p> +Betty spoke almost sentimentally and this +state of mind was so unusual to her that for +a moment Mollie only stared in silence. +However, as her friend disappeared into the +bathroom to begin her toilet for the evening +Mollie remarked placidly, “The violets +would look ever so much prettier with your +blue dress.” +</p> +<p> +Esther’s round mahogany table seated +exactly twelve guests. On her right was +Richard Hunt, the actor, with Anthony +Graham on her left, next him was Meg, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +then Billy Webster and Mollie O’Neill. +To the right of Dr. Ashton, Margaret +Adams had the place of honor, then came a +Harvard law student who was a special +admirer of Meg’s, then a new friend of +Esther’s and then John Everett and Betty +Ashton. As the entire arrangement of the +company had been made through Betty’s +suggestion, doubtless she must have chosen +the companions at dinner that she most +desired. Polly’s friend, Richard Hunt, sat +on her other side with Meg and Anthony +nearly opposite. +</p> +<p> +There had been no lack of cordiality on +Betty’s part toward any one of their visitors. +On Anthony’s arrival with Meg +Everett she had thanked him for his gift +in her most charming manner, but had made +no reference to the card which he had +enclosed nor to the fact that she preferred +wearing other flowers than his. Meg was +looking unusually pretty tonight and very +frankly Betty told her so. Her soft blond +hair was parted on the side with a big loose +coil at the back and a black velvet ribbon +encircled her head. Professor Everett was +not wealthy and Meg’s college education +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +was costing him a good deal, therefore she +had ordinarily only a moderate sum of +money for buying her clothes and no special +talent for making the best of them. However, +this evening her dress had been a +Christmas gift from her brother John and, +as it was of soft white silk and lace, particularly +becoming to Meg’s pretty blondness. +Her blue eyes were shining with a +kind of veiled light and her color came and +went swiftly. She seemed just as ingenuous +and impulsive as she had ever been, until +it was difficult to know what must be the +truth about her. Several times during +the evening Esther told herself sternly +that of course Meg had a perfect right to +accept Anthony Graham’s attentions if she +liked, for there had never been any definite +understanding between him and her sister, +and indeed that she had disapproved of +him in the past. Yet now Anthony +Graham, in spite of his origin, might have +been considered a good match for almost +any girl. He was a distinguished looking +fellow, with his brilliant foreign coloring, +his dark hair and high forehead. Esther +recalled having once felt keenly sorry for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +him because the other girls and young men +in their group of friends had not considered +him their social or intellectual equal. Now +he was entirely self-possessed and sure of +himself. Yet he did seem almost too grave +for their happy Betty; possibly it was just +as well he had transferred his interest to +Meg. No one could ever succeed in making +Meg Everett serious for any great length of +time. She was still the same happy-go-lucky +girl of their old Camp Fire days +whom “a higher education” was not altering +in the least. Yet the “higher education” +may have given her subjects of +conversation worthy of discussing with +Anthony, for certainly they spent a great +part of the time talking in low tones to each +other. +</p> +<p> +Betty appeared in the gayest possible +spirits and had never looked prettier. +Richard Hunt seemed delighted with her, +and John Everett had apparently returned +to the state of admiration which he had +always felt when they had been boy and +girl together in Woodford. Indeed Betty +did feel unusually animated and excited; +she could hardly have known why except +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +that she had spent a rather dull winter +and that she was extremely excited at +seeing her old friends again. And then she +and Mr. Hunt had so much to say to each +other on a subject that never failed to be +interesting—Polly! +</p> +<p> +Neither he nor Miss Adams had the +faintest idea of what had become of that +erratic young person, although Margaret +Adams had also received a Christmas letter +from her. But where she was or what she +was doing, no one had the faintest idea. +It was evident that Mr. Hunt highly disapproved +of Polly’s proceedings, and although +until the instant before Betty had +felt exactly as he did, now she rallied at +once to her friend’s defense. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hunt, you must not think for an +instant that Polly was ungrateful either to +Miss Adams or to you for your many +kindnesses, only she had to do things in +her own Polly fashion, one that other people +could not exactly understand. But if one +had ever been fond of Polly,” Betty +insisted, “you were apt to keep on caring +for her for some reason or other which you +could not exactly explain. Not that Polly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +was as pretty or perhaps as sweet as +Mollie.” +</p> +<p> +Several times during the evening Betty +had noticed that every now and then her +companion had glanced with interest toward +Mollie O’Neill. However, when he now +agreed with her last statement; she was not +sure whether his agreement emphasized +the fact of Mollie’s superior prettiness, or +that Polly was an unforgettable character. +</p> +<p> +Without a doubt Esther’s and Dick’s +first formal dinner party was a pronounced +success. The food was excellent, the two +maids, one of whom was hired for the +occasion, served without a flaw. There +was only one trifling occurrence that might +have created a slight disturbance, and this +situation fortunately Betty Ashton saw +in time to save. +</p> +<p> +She happened to be sitting at the side +of the table that faced the windows. Earlier +in the evening one of these windows had +been opened in order to cool the room and +the curtain left partly up. The wind was +not particularly high and no one seemed to +be inconvenienced. But most unexpectedly +toward the close of the dinner a gale must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +have sprung up. Because there was a +sudden, sharp noise at the window and +without warning the blind rolled itself +to the topmost ledge with startling abruptness, +as if some one had pulled sharply at +the cord and then let go. +</p> +<p> +Then another noise immediately followed, +not so startling but far more puzzling. +The first racket had caused every member +of the little company to start instinctively. +Then at the same instant, before Richard +Ashton, who chanced to be pouring a glass +of water for Margaret Adams, could get +up from his place, Betty turned to Richard +Hunt. John Everett happened to be +talking to his other neighbor at the moment. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hunt,” Betty asked quickly, +“won’t you please close that window for +us? It is too cold to have it open and +besides one does not altogether like the +idea that outside persons might be able +to look into the room.” +</p> +<p> +Perhaps Richard Hunt was just a moment +longer at the window in the performance +of so simple a task than one +might have expected, but no one observed +it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +</p> +<p> +As he took his place again and Betty +thanked him she looked at him with a +slight frown. +</p> +<p> +“Did you see a ghost, Mr. Hunt?” +she queried. “It is not a comfortable +night even for a ghost to be prowling +about. It is too lonely an occupation for +Christmas eve.” +</p> +<p> +Richard Hunt smiled at his companion +in return. “Oh, I am always seeing ghosts, +Miss Ashton,” he answered; “I suppose it +is because I have an actor’s vivid imagination.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span><a name='ch11' id='ch11'></a>CHAPTER XI—A Christmas Song and Recognition</h2> +<p> +The entire number of guests who +had been together at Esther’s and +Dick Ashton’s Christmas-eve dinner, +agreed to be at church the following +morning in order to hear Esther sing. +</p> +<p> +In spite of the fact that Boston is one +of the most musical of American cities +and Esther the most modest of persons, +even in so short a time her beautiful +voice had given her an enviable reputation. +The papers in giving notice of the morning +service had mentioned the fact that the +solo would be given by Mrs. Richard +Ashton. But church music must have +been Esther’s real vocation, for no matter +how large the congregation nor how difficult +her song she never felt any of her +old nervousness and embarrassment. For +one thing she was partly hidden behind +the choir screen, so she need not fear +that critical eyes were upon her; she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +could be alone with her music and something +that was stronger and higher than +herself. +</p> +<p> +On Christmas morning Betty entered +their pew with her brother Dick, Mollie +O’Neill and Billy Webster. She was wearing +a dark green broadcloth with a small +black velvet toque on her red-brown hair +and a new set of black fox furs that her +brother and sister had given her that +morning for a Christmas present. She +was pale and a little tired from yesterday’s +festivities, so that a single red rose +which had come to her from some unknown +source that morning, was the only really +bright color about her except for the lights +in her hair. Mollie was flushed and +smiling with the interest in the new place +and people and the companionship of tried +friends. +</p> +<p> +Betty thought that Margaret Adams +also seemed weary when she came in with +Mr. Hunt a few moments later. She +was glad that the great lady happened +to be placed next her so that she might +feel the thrill of her nearness. For genius +is thrilling, no matter how simple and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +unpretentious the man or woman who +possesses it. Margaret Adams wore a +wonderful long Russian sable coat and +a small velvet hat and, just as naturally +as if she had been another girl, slipped +her hand into Betty’s and held it during +the service. +</p> +<p> +So that in spite of her best efforts Betty +could not keep her attention from wandering +now and then. She knew that Margaret +Adams was almost equally as devoted to +Polly O’Neill as she herself and wondered +what she thought of their friend’s conduct. +She wished that they might have the +opportunity to talk the matter over before +Miss Adams finished her stay in +Boston. Then, though realizing her own +bad manners, Betty could not help being +a little curious over the friendship between +Miss Adams and Mr. Hunt. They seemed +to have known each other such a long, +long time and to have acted together so +many times. Of course Margaret Adams +was several years older, but that scarcely +mattered with so unusual a person. +</p> +<p> +Moreover, there were other influences +at work to keep Betty Ashton’s mind +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +from being as firmly fixed upon the subject +of the morning’s sermon as it should +have been. For was she not conscious +of the presence of Meg and John Everett +and Anthony Graham in the pew just +back of her? And though it did seem +vain and self-conscious of her, she had +the sensation that at least two pairs of +eyes were frequently concentrated upon +the back of her head or upon her profile +should she chance to turn her face half +way around. +</p> +<p> +When the offertory was finally announced +and Esther began the first lines of her +solo, not only was her sister Betty’s attention +caught and held, but that of almost +every other human being in the church. +It was not a beautiful Christmas day, +outside there were scurrying gray clouds +and a kind of bleak coldness. But the +church was warmly and beautifully lighted, +the altar white with lilies and crimson +with roses, speaking of passion and peace. +And Esther’s voice had in it something +of almost celestial sweetness. She was no +longer a girl but a woman, for Dick’s love +and a promise of a fulfilment equally +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +beautiful had added to her natural gift +a deeper emotional power. And she sang +one of the simplest and at the same time one +of the most beautiful of Christmas hymns. +</p> +<p> +Betty was perfectly willing to allow all +the unhappiness and disappointments of +the past few months to relieve themselves +in the tears that came unchecked. Then +she saw Margaret Adams bite her lips and +close her eyes as if she too were shutting +out the world of ordinary vision to live +only in beautiful sound and a higher +communion. +</p> +<p> + “Hark! the herald angels sing<br /> + Glory to the new-born King;<br /> + Peace on earth, and mercy mild,<br /> + God and sinners reconciled!<br /> + Joyful, all ye nations, rise,<br /> + Join the triumph of the skies;<br /> + With the angelic host proclaim,<br /> + Christ is born in Bethlehem.<br /> + Hark! the herald angels sing<br /> + Glory to the new-born King.<br /> + <br/> + “Christ, by highest heaven adored;<br /> + Christ, the everlasting Lord;<br /> + Late in time behold Him come,<br /> + Offspring of a virgin’s womb.<br /> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> + Veil’d in flesh the Godhead see,<br /> + Hail, th’ Incarnate Deity!<br /> + Pleased as man with man to dwell,<br /> + Jesus, our Emmanuel!<br /> + Hark! the herald angels sing<br /> + Glory to the new-born King.<br /> + <br/> + “Hail, the heaven-born Prince of Peace!<br /> + Hail, the Sun of righteousness!<br /> + Light and life to all He brings,<br /> + Risen with healing in His wings.<br /> + Mild He lays His glory by,<br /> + Born that man no more may die;<br /> + Born to raise the sons of earth,<br /> + Born to give them second birth.<br /> + Hark! the herald angels sing<br /> + Glory to the new-born King.”<br /> +</p> +<p> +At the close of the service, turning to +leave the church, Betty Ashton felt a +hand laid on her arm, and glancing up in +surprise found Anthony Graham’s eyes +gazing steadfastly into hers. +</p> +<p> +“We are friends, are we not, Betty? +You would not let any misunderstanding +or any change in your life alter that?” +he asked hurriedly. +</p> +<p> +For just an instant the girl hesitated, +then answered simply and gracefully: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think any one could be unfaithful +to an old friendship on Christmas morning +after hearing Esther sing. It was not +in the least necessary, Anthony, for you to +ask me such a question. You know I +shall always wish you the best possible +things.” +</p> +<p> +Then, without allowing the young man to +reply or to accompany her down the aisle, +she hurried away to her other friends, +and, slipping her arm firmly inside Mollie +O’Neill’s, she never let go her clasp until +they were safely out of church. +</p> +<p> +“It is no use, Meg, nothing matters,” +Anthony Graham said a quarter of an hour +later, when he and Margaret Everett were +on their way home together, John having +deserted them to join the other party. +“The fact is, Betty does not care in the +least one way or the other what I say or +do.” +</p> +<p> +“Then I wish you would let me tell her +the truth,” Meg urged. “You see, Anthony, +the Princess and I have always been such +intimate friends and I have always admired +her more than any of the other girls. I +don’t wish her to misunderstand us. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +may not be so brilliant as Polly, nor so +clever as Sylvia or your sister Nan, but +somehow Betty is—well, I suppose she is +what a real Princess ought to be. That +is what Polly always declared. It is not +just because she is pretty and generous, but +she is so high-minded. Nothing would +make <i>her</i> even appear to take advantage of +a friend.” And Meg sighed, her usually +happy face clouding. +</p> +<p> +In silence, then, the girl and young man +walked on for a few moments when Anthony +replied: “You must do as you like, of +course, Meg. I have no right to ask you +anything else. But this understanding +between us means everything in the world +to me and it was your own offer in the +beginning.” +</p> +<p> +Meg nodded. “Yes, I know; but truly I +don’t think as much of my idea as I did +at first. Still I am willing to keep quiet +for a while longer if you wish it.” +</p> +<p> +At this moment there was no further +opportunity for intimate conversation, for +Meg’s Harvard friend, Ralph Brown, made +his appearance with a five-pound box of +candy, elaborately tied with red ribbon, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +under his arm, and an expression on his +face that suggested politely but firmly that +Anthony Graham retire for the present, +leaving the field to him. +</p> +<p> +Of their friends in Boston only Margaret +Adams and Richard Hunt had been invited +by Esther and Dr. Ashton to have an +informal Christmas dinner with them. For +the dinner party the evening before had +been such a domestic strain upon the +little household that they wished to spend +the following day quietly. But it was +impossible to think of Margaret Adams +dining alone in a great hotel, and she would +certainly accept no invitation from her +wealthier and more fashionable acquaintances +in Boston. Moreover, Betty hoped +that in the afternoon there might be a +chance to talk of Polly. At the beginning +no one had dreamed of including Richard +Hunt in the invitation, as he was a comparative +stranger; but Dick, having taken +a sudden fancy to him, had calmly suggested +his returning for Christmas day without +due consultation with his family. +</p> +<p> +Five minutes after starting for home +with Dick and Esther, Mollie, Betty and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +Miss Adams, Mr. Hunt, with a murmured +excuse which no one understood, asked to +be excused from going further. He would +join the party later if possible, but should +he chance to be delayed dinner must on no +account be kept waiting for him. +</p> +<p> +His conduct did seem rather extraordinary, +and although Dick and Esther betrayed +no surprise, it was plain enough that +Margaret Adams felt annoyed. She had +introduced Mr. Hunt to her friends and so +naturally felt responsible for his conduct. +</p> +<p> +Though the man was aware of his +apparent eccentricity and though his manners +were usually nearly perfect, he now +deliberately turned away from the little +company. And in spite of his half-hearted +suggestion of re-joining them he had little +idea at present of when he would return. +Deliberately he retraced his steps to the +church which he had quitted only a few +moments before. +</p> +<p> +Already the place was nearly deserted. +On the sidewalk the clergyman was saying +farewell to a few final members of his +congregation, while inside the sexton was +closing the doors of the two side aisles, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +although the large door in the center still +remained open. Hurriedly Mr. Hunt entered. +And there, just as he had hoped to +find her, was the figure of a girl sitting in a +rather dejected attitude in one of the last +pews. She had on a dark dress and a heavy +long coat and about her head a thick veil +was tied. +</p> +<p> +Before he could reach her she had risen +and was starting away. +</p> +<p> +“Wait here for a moment, Miss O’Neill; +we can find no other spot so quiet in which +to have a talk,” the man said sternly. +</p> +<p> +Then as Polly flashed an indignant glance +at him, attempting to pass as though she +had neither seen nor recognized him, he +added: +</p> +<p> +“I know I have no right to intrude upon +you, but unless you are willing to give me +some explanation of why you are here and +what you are doing, I shall tell the friends +who are nearer to you than I am of my +having seen you not only this morning, +but last night as well.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, please <i>don’t</i>!” Polly’s voice was +trembling. “Really, truly, I am not doing +anything wrong in staying here in Boston +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +and not letting people hear. My mother +knows where I am and what I am doing and +of course I am not alone. Yes, it was +utterly silly and reckless of me to have +peeped in at Esther’s dining-room window +last night, but I was so dreadfully lonely +and wanted to see everybody so much. +How could I have dreamed that that +wretched curtain would go banging away +up in the air as it did? But anyhow, Mr. +Hunt, I shall always be everlastingly grateful +to you for not telling on me last night. +I did not suppose you saw me and certainly +never imagined you could have recognized +me when I crouched down in the +shadow.” +</p> +<p> +Unexpectedly Polly O’Neill laughed. +“What a perfect idiot I should have looked +if you had dragged me in before the dinner +party like a spy or a thief or a beggar! I +can just imagine Esther’s and Mollie’s +expressions.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, but all this is not quite to the +point, Miss Polly,” Richard Hunt continued, +speaking however in a more friendly +tone. “Am I to tell Margaret Adams and +Betty Ashton that I have discovered you, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +or will you take me into your secret and +let me decide what is best to be done +afterwards?” +</p> +<p> +“But you have not the right to do either +the one thing nor the other,” the girl +argued, lifting her veil for an instant in +order to see if there was any sign of relenting +in the face of her older friend. +</p> +<p> +There was not the slightest. And Polly +recognized that for once in her life she was +beaten. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t say anything today then, please,” +she urged, looking into her pocketbook and +finding there a card with a name and address +written upon it. “But come to see me +tomorrow if you like. And don’t think +that I am ungrateful or—or horrid,” she +ended abruptly, rushing away so swiftly +that it would have been impossible for any +one to have followed her without creating +attention. +</p> +<p> +Rather grimly Richard Hunt gazed at the +card he held in his hand. It bore a name +that was not Polly O’Neill’s and the address +of a quiet street in Boston. What on the +face of the earth could she be doing? It +was impossible to guess, and yet it was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +certainly nothing very unwise if her mother +knew and approved of it. +</p> +<p> +Whether or not he had the right to find +out, Richard Hunt had positively decided +to take advantage of his recognition of +Polly O’Neill and insist upon her confidence. +He could not have explained even to himself +why he was so determined on this +course of action. However, it was true, as +her friend Betty Ashton had insisted the +night before, whether or not you happened +to feel a liking for Polly, you were not apt +to forget her. +</p> +<p> +In the past few months it was curious how +often he had found himself wondering what +had become of the girl. He recalled her +having run away several years before to +make her first stage appearance and then +their meeting in Margaret Adams’ drawing +room in London later on. Well, perhaps +curiosity was not alone a feminine trait +of character, for Richard Hunt felt convinced +he would be more at peace with +himself and the world when he had learned +Polly’s story from her own lips. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span><a name='ch12' id='ch12'></a>CHAPTER XII—After Her Fashion Polly Explains</h2> +<p> +The next afternoon a dark-haired +woman a little past thirty came +into the boarding house sitting +room to see Richard Hunt before Polly +made her appearance. +</p> +<p> +“I am Mrs. Martins, Miss O’Neill’s +chaperon,” she explained. “Or if I am +not exactly her chaperon at least we are +together and I am trying to see that no +harm befalls her. No, she is not calling +herself by her own name, but she will prefer +to give you her own reason for that. +I have met her mother several times, so +that of course I understand the situation.” +Mrs. Martins was a woman of refinement +and of some education and her pronunciation +of her own name showed her to be of +French origin. +</p> +<p> +Already the situation was slightly less +mystifying. Yet there was still a great +deal for Polly to make clear if she chose to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +do so. However, it was curious that she +was taking so long a time to join them. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Martins continued to talk about +nothing in particular, so it was evident that +<i>she</i> intended making no betrayals. Now +and then she even glanced toward the door +in some embarrassment, as though puzzled +and annoyed by her companion’s delay. +And while Richard Hunt was answering +her politely if vaguely, actually he was on +the point of deciding that Polly did not +intend coming down stairs at all. Well +perhaps it would serve him right, for what +authority did he have for forcing the +girl’s confession? And she was certainly +quite capable of punishing him by placing +him in an absurd situation. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless nothing was farther from +Polly O’Neill’s intention at the present +moment. She was merely standing before +her mirror in her tiny upstairs bedroom +trying to summon sufficient courage to +meet her guest and tell her story. +</p> +<p> +Once or twice she had started for the +door only to return and stare at herself +with intense disapproval. She had rubbed +her cheeks with a crash towel until at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +least they were crimson enough, although +the color was not very satisfying, and she +had arranged her hair three times, only to +decide at the last that she had best have +left it alone at first. +</p> +<p> +Now she made a little grimace at her +own image, smiling at almost the same +instant. +</p> +<p> +“My beloved Princess or Mollie, I do +wish you could lend me your good looks +for the next half hour,” she murmured half +aloud. “It is so much easier to be eloquent +and convincing in this world when one +happens to be pretty. But I, well certainly +I would serve as a perfect illustration +of ‘a rag and a bone and a hank of hair’ +at this moment if at no other.” +</p> +<p> +Polly glanced down at her costume with +more satisfaction than she had found in +surveying her face. It was not in the +least shabby, but a very charming dress +which her mother had sent as a part of her +Christmas box. The dress was of dark +red <i>crepe de Chine</i> with a velvet girdle and +collar of the same shade. And although +under ordinary circumstances it might have +been becoming, today Polly was not wrong +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +in believing that she was not looking even +her poor best. She was tired and nervous. +Of course it did not matter so very much +what Mr. Hunt might think of the story +she had to tell him, but later on there +would be many other persons whom she +would have to persuade to accept her +point of view. And somehow she felt that +if she failed to convince her first listener +she must fail with the others. +</p> +<p> +Then unexpectedly, before hearing the +sound of her approach, Richard Hunt discovered +a cold hand being extended to +shake his, and in a voice even more chilling +Polly O’Neill was apologizing for having +kept him waiting. Yet on the way down +the steps had she not positively made up +her mind to be so cordial and agreeable +that her visitor should forget her other +deficiencies? +</p> +<p> +With a feeling of amazement mixed with +despair Polly seated herself in the darkest +corner of a small sofa next Mrs. Martins, +deciding that it was quite useless, that she +should attempt no explanation. Mr. Hunt +and her companion could talk together +about the weather if they chose, for she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +could not think of a single word to say. +Afterwards her visitor could go away and +give any account of her he wished, although +naturally this might frustrate all her hopes +and ambitions and make her dearest friends +angry with her for life. Yet if one were +always to suffer from stage fright at all +the critical moments of one’s career what +else could be expected? +</p> +<p> +At this moment Mrs. Martins excused +herself and left the room. Polly saw her +go with a characteristic shrug of her +shoulders and an odd glance at her visitor. +The moment had come. Mr. Hunt would +discover that she had not even the grace +to keep her promise, and heaven alone +knew what he would soon think of her. +</p> +<p> +Yet after saying good-by to her companion +he continued talking in the kindest +possible fashion, telling her news of Esther +and Dick Ashton, saying how much he +admired Betty and Mollie. +</p> +<p> +Indeed in less than five minutes Polly +had actually managed to forget the reason +for her visitor’s call and was asking him +questions about her old friends, faster than +they could be answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +</p> +<p> +“Was their play, <i>A Woman’s Wit</i>, still +as great a success as it had been at the +start? Was Margaret Adams well or had +the winter’s work used her up? Did +Betty Ashton seem to have any special +admirer in Boston?” +</p> +<p> +Actually in a brief quarter of an hour +Polly’s eyes were shining and her lips +smiling. Curled up comfortably on her +sofa she suddenly appreciated that she was +having the most agreeable time she had +enjoyed in months. Then again her expression +changed and her brief radiance +vanished. Yet this time her companion +understood. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Polly,” he said quickly, “please +don’t feel that after what happened yesterday +I still mean to force you to make a +confidant of me. The truth is I did want +very much to hear that all was well with +you and that you were not making any +kind of mistake. I am not going to be a +coward, so I confess that I came here today +expecting to force your secret from you +simply because I had an advantage over +you. But, of course, now that we have +been talking together I can see that you are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +all right, even if you do look rather tired +and none too cheerful. So I want to +apologize and then I shall go away and not +worry you again. Also you may feel +entirely assured that I shall not mention +having seen you to any one.” +</p> +<p> +The man had risen from his chair, but +before he could move a step forward, Polly +had clasped her hands together and was +gazing at him imploringly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, please, Mr. Hunt, don’t go,” she +begged. “All of a sudden I have begun +to feel that if I don’t tell some one my +secret and ask you to approve of me or +at least to try to forgive me for what I am +doing I shall perish.” Actually Polly +would now have pushed her visitor back +into his chair if he had not sat down again +so promptly as to make it unnecessary. +</p> +<p> +“You are sure you wish to confide in +me, Miss Polly? Of course you understand +that I will tell no one. But if your +mother knows and approves of you, why +surely no other person is necessary,” he +argued. +</p> +<p> +In reply the girl laughed. “Mother is +an angel and for that reason perhaps she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +does not always approve or understand +me exactly. In this case she is just permitting +me to have my own way because +she promised to let me try and do what +I could to become a successful actress and +she never goes back on her word. Of +course my method seems queer to her and +probably will to you. But after all it is +the way I see things and one can’t look +out of any one’s eyes but one’s own. +Surely you believe that, Mr. Hunt?” +</p> +<p> +Of course any one who really understood +Polly O’Neill, Betty Ashton for +instance, would have understood at once +that she was now beginning to explain her +own wilfulness. Yet her question did +sound convincing, for assuredly one can +have no other vision than one’s own. +</p> +<p> +Richard Hunt nodded sympathetically, +although Polly was looking so absurdly +young and so desperately in earnest that +he would have preferred to smile. +</p> +<p> +She was leaning forward with her chin +resting on her hand and gazing intently +at him. What she saw was a man who +seemed almost middle-aged to her. And +yet to the girl he seemed almost ideally +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +handsome. His features were strong and +well-cut, the nose aquiline, the mouth +large and firm. And he was wearing the +kindest possible expression. For half an +instant Polly’s thoughts flew away from +herself. Surely if any one in the world +could be worthy of Margaret Adams it +was Richard Hunt. Then she settled down +to the telling of her own story. +</p> +<p> +“You know of course, Mr. Hunt, without +my having to say anything more about +it, that ever since I was a little girl I have +dreamed and hoped and prayed of some +day becoming a great actress. Mother +says that there was some one in my family +once, one of my Irish aunts, I believe, who +ran away from home in order to go on +the stage and was never recognized again. +I have thought sometimes that perhaps I +inherited her ambition. One never knows +about things like that, life is so queer. +Anyhow when a dozen girls in Woodford +formed a Camp Fire and we lived together +in the woods for over a year working and +playing, mother and Betty and my sister +expected me to get over my foolish ideas +and learn something through our club that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +might make me adopt a more sensible +career. I don’t mean to be rude to you, +Mr. Hunt,” Polly was profoundly serious, +there was now no hint of amusement in +her dark blue eyes or in her mobile face, +“you understand I am only telling you +what my family and friends thought about +people who were actors—not what I think. +I don’t see why acting isn’t just as great +and useful as the other arts if one is conscientious +and has real talent. But the +trouble with me has been all along that +I haven’t any real talent. I suppose if I +had been a genius from the first no one +would have cared to oppose me. Well the +Camp Fire did not influence me against +what I wanted to do; it only made me +feel more in earnest than I had ever been +before. For we girls learned such a lot +about courage and perseverance and being +happy even if things were not going just +the way one liked, that it has all been a +great help to me recently, more than at +any time in my life.” +</p> +<p> +Richard Hunt nodded gravely. “I see,” +he said quietly, although in point of fact +he did not yet understand in the least what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> +Polly was trying to explain, nor why she +should review so much of her past life +before coming to her point. He was curiously +interested, although ordinarily he +might have been bored by such a disjointed +story. +</p> +<p> +Polly was too intense at the moment to +have bored anyone. There she sat in her +red dress against the darker background of +the sofa with her figure almost in shadow +and the light falling only upon her odd, +eager face. +</p> +<p> +“I ran away from Miss Adams and from +you, not because I was such a coward that +I meant to give up the thing I was trying +for, but because I knew that I must have a +harder time if I was ever to amount to +anything. You see people were trying to +make things so easy for me and in a way +they were making them more difficult. +Margaret gave me that place in her company +when I did not deserve it; you tried +to show me how to act when I could not +learn; my friends were complimenting me +when all the time they must have known I +was a failure. I couldn’t bear it, Mr. +Hunt; really I could not. I am lots of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +horrid things, but I am not a fraud. Then +Margaret told me what a difficult time she +had at the beginning of her career and how +no one had helped her. Of course she +meant to make me feel that I might be +more successful because of my friends’ aid, +but I did not see things just that way. Oh, +I do hope you had to work dreadfully hard +at the beginning of your profession and +had lots of failures,” Polly concluded so +unexpectedly and so solemnly that this +time Richard Hunt could not refrain from +laughing. +</p> +<p> +“Oh no, it wasn’t all plain sailing for me +either, Miss Polly, and it isn’t now for that +matter, if it is of any help to you to know +it,” he added, realizing that his companion +was absolutely unconscious of having said +anything amusing. +</p> +<p> +“Before I gave up trying to act Belinda +I got a small position in a cheap stock company.” +Polly had at last reached the +point of her story. “The company has +been traveling through New England all +winter and is still on the road. We only +happened to be in Boston during the +holidays. I have been playing almost any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +kind of part, sometimes I am a maid, sometimes +a lady-in-waiting to the queen; once +or twice, when the star has been ill, I have +had to take the character of the heroine. +Of course all this must sound very silly and +commonplace to you, Mr. Hunt, but honestly +I am learning a few things: not to be +so self-conscious for one thing and to work +very, very hard.” +</p> +<p> +“Too hard, Miss Polly, I am afraid,” +Richard Hunt replied, looking closely at +his companion and feeling oddly moved by +her confession. Perhaps the girl’s effort +would amount to nothing and perhaps she +was unwise in having made it, nevertheless +one could not but feel sorry that her friends +had suspected her of ingratitude and lack +of affection and that she was engaged in +some kind of foolish escapade. Richard +Hunt felt extremely guilty himself at the +moment. +</p> +<p> +“Oh no, I am not working too hard or +at least not too hard for my health,” +Polly argued. “You see both my mother +and Sylvia are looking after me. Sylvia +made me promise her once, when I did not +understand what she meant, that I would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +let her know what I was doing all this +winter. So I have kept my promise and +every once and a while good old Sylvia +travels to where I happen to be staying +and looks me over and gives me pills and +things.” Polly smiled. “You don’t know +who Sylvia is and it is rather absurd of +me to talk to you so intimately about my +family. Sylvia is my step-sister, but she +used to be merely my friend when we were +girls. She is younger than I am but a +thousand times cleverer and is studying to +be a physician. She has not much respect +for my judgment but she is rather fond of +me.” +</p> +<p> +“And your chaperon?” Perhaps Mr. +Hunt realized that he was asking a good +many questions when he and Polly O’Neill +were still comparative strangers; yet he +was too much concerned for her welfare +at present to care. +</p> +<p> +Polly did not seem to be either surprised +or offended by his questioning, but pleased +to have some one in whom she might +confide. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, just at first mother sent one of her +old friends about everywhere with me. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +But when she got tired we found this Mrs. +Martins who was having a hard time in +New York and needed something to do. +She is really awfully nice and is teaching +me French in our spare moments. She +used to be a dressmaker, I believe, but +could not get enough work to do.” Suddenly +Polly straightened up and put out +her hand this time in an exceedingly +friendly fashion. +</p> +<p> +“Goodness, Mr. Hunt, what a dreadfully +long time I have been keeping you here +and how good you have been to listen to +me so patiently!” she exclaimed. “You will +keep my secret for me, won’t you? This +winter I don’t want my friends to know +what I am trying to do or to come to see me +act. I have not improved enough so far.” +</p> +<p> +Still holding Polly’s hand in a friendly +clasp, her visitor rose. +</p> +<p> +“But you will let me come, won’t you?” +he urged. “You see I am in your secret +now and so I am different from other +people. Besides I am very grateful to you +for your faith in me and I don’t like to +remember now that I first tried bullying +you into confiding in me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +</p> +<p> +Polly’s answering sigh was one of relief. +“I don’t seem to mind even that, although +I was angry and frightened at first,” she +returned. “I don’t usually enjoy doing +what people make me do. But if you +think you really would like to come to see +me play, perhaps I should be rather glad. +Only you must promise not to let me +know when you are there, nor what you +think of my acting afterwards.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span><a name='ch13' id='ch13'></a>CHAPTER XIII—A Place of Memories</h2> +<p> +“I wonder, Angel, if you had ever +heard of my friend, Polly O’Neill, +before I mentioned her name to +you?” Betty Ashton asked after a few +moments of silence between the two girls, +when evidently Betty had been puzzling +over this same question. +</p> +<p> +Angel shook her head. “Never,” she +returned quietly. +</p> +<p> +Five months had passed since their first +meeting and now the scene about them +was a very different one from the four +bare walls of a hospital, and the little +French girl was almost as completely +changed. +</p> +<p> +It was early spring in the New Hampshire +hills and the child and young woman +were seated outside a cabin of logs with +their eyes resting sometimes on a small +lake before them, again on a dark group of +pine trees, but more often on a sun-tipped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +hill ahead where the meadows seemed to +lie down in green homage at her feet. +</p> +<p> +Everywhere there were signs of the +earth’s eternal re-birth and re-building. +The grain showed only a tiny hint of its +autumn harvest of gold, but the grass, +the flowers, the new leaves on the bushes +and trees were at their gayest and loveliest. +Notwithstanding there was a breeze cool +enough to make warm clothes a necessity, +and Betty wore a long dark blue cloth +cloak, while her companion, who was lying +at full length in a steamer chair, was covered +with a heavy rug. Yet the girl’s +delicate white hands were busily engaged +in weaving long strands of bright-colored +straws together. +</p> +<p> +“Why did you think I had ever heard of +your friend, Princess?” she queried after a +short pause. +</p> +<div><a name='i151' id='i151'></a></div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i004' id='i004'></a> +<img src='images/illus-151.jpg' alt='“Why Did You Think I Had Ever Heard of Your Friend?”' title=''/><br /> +<span class='caption'>“Why Did You Think I Had Ever Heard of Your Friend?”</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span></div> +<p> +Keeping her finger in a volume of Tennyson’s +poems which she had been supposed +to be reading, the older girl gazed thoughtfully +and yet almost unseeingly into the +dark eyes of her companion. “I don’t +know exactly,” she replied thoughtfully, +“only for some strange reason since our +earliest acquaintance you have always made +me think of Polly. You don’t look like +her, of course, though there is just a suggestion +in your expression now and then. +Perhaps because you were so interested in +her when I began telling of our Sunrise +Hill Camp Fire girls. I don’t believe you +would ever have been able to endure me +you know, Angel dear, if you had not +liked hearing me talk of Polly; then think +of what good times we should both have +missed!” +</p> +<p> +Across the little French girl’s face a +warm flush spread. +</p> +<p> +“It is like you to say ‘we’ should have +missed,” she replied softly. “But I never +hated you, you were always mistaken in +believing that. From the morning you +first came to the hospital and ever afterwards +I thought you the prettiest person +I had ever seen in my life and one of the +sweetest. It was only that in those early +days I was too miserable to speak to any +one. Always I was afraid I should break +down if I tried to talk, so when the other +girls attempted being nice to me I pretended +I was sullen and hateful when in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +reality I was a coward. It was just the +same when you started the ‘Shut-In Camp +Fire’ among the girls. I would not join, I +would not take the slightest interest in the +beginning for much the same reason. But +you were always so patient and agreeable +to me and so was Miss Mollie. Then there +was always Cricket!” Smiling, she paused +for a moment listening. +</p> +<p> +Inside Sunrise cabin both girls could +hear the noise of several persons moving +about as though deeply engaged in some +important business. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose I ought to go in and help,” +Betty remarked in a slightly conscience-smitten +tone, “but Mollie does so enjoy +fussing about getting things ready. And +in spite of all my efforts and stern Camp +Fire training I shall never be so good a +cook as she is. Besides, both Mollie and +Cricket informed me politely, after I finished +cleaning our rooms and had set the +luncheon table, that I was somewhat in +the way. I suppose I had best go in, +though. Is there anything I can do for +you first, Angel? Cricket is beating that +cake batter so hard it sounds like a drum.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +</p> +<p> +Betty had half risen from her chair +when the expression in her companion’s +face made her sit down again. “What +is it?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +For a moment the other girl’s fingers +ceased their busy weaving. “You have +never asked me anything about myself, +Princess, in spite of all the wonderful +things you have done for me,” she began. +“I don’t want to bore you, but I should +like——” +</p> +<p> +With a low laugh Betty suddenly hunched +her chair forward until it was close up +against the larger one. +</p> +<p> +“And I, I am perfectly dying to hear, +you must know, you dear little goose, +to talk about boring me! Don’t you +know I am one of the most curious members +of my curious sex? I have not asked +you questions because I did not feel I +had the right unless you wished to tell. +But possibly I asked that question about +Polly O’Neill just to give you a chance. +Really I don’t know.” +</p> +<p> +In spite of this small confession, not +for worlds would Betty Ashton have allowed +the sensitive little French girl to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +have learned another reason for her questioning. +It was odd and certainly unreasonable, +yet in all her recent kindness and +care of Angelique she had continued to +feel that in some mysterious fashion her +friend, Polly O’Neill, was encouraging and +aiding her. There was some one at work, +assuredly, though she had no shadow of +right in believing it to be Polly. For +though she had confided in no one, the +first anonymous letter in regard to the +ill girl had not been the last one. In +truth there must have been half a dozen +in all, postmarked at different places and +all of them unsigned and yet showing +a remarkably intimate knowledge of the +growing friendship between the two girls. +</p> +<p> +The first step had been natural and +simple enough. For with her usual enthusiasm +after her visit to the hospital +Betty had immediately set about forming +a Camp Fire. She had sent for all the +literature she could find on the subject, +the club manual and songs. Then she +and Mollie, during her visit, and sometimes +Meg, had taught the new club members +as much as possible of what they had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +themselves learned during the old days at +Sunrise Hill. +</p> +<p> +For the first few meetings of the club +in the great, sunny hospital room there +was one solitary girl who would not show +the least interest in the new and delightful +proceedings. Indeed she kept on +with her stupid gazing up toward the +ceiling as if she were both deaf and +blind. +</p> +<p> +However, one day when she believed +no one looking and while the other girls +were talking of their future aims and +ambitions and of the ways in which their +new club might help them, unexpectedly +Betty Ashton had caught sight of Angelique, +with her dark eyes fixed almost +despairingly upon her. +</p> +<p> +The other girls were all busy, some of +them sewing on their new ceremonial +Camp Fire costumes of khaki, others making +bead bands or working at basket +weaving. In the meanwhile they were +talking of Camp Fire honors to be won +in the future and of the new names which +they might hope to attain. +</p> +<p> +Therefore, almost unnoticed by any one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +else, Betty was able to cross over to the +side of the French girl’s bed. +</p> +<p> +“I was wondering if I could not also +do some of that pretty work with my +hands,” the girl began at once, speaking +as composedly as if she had been talking +to Betty every day since their first meeting, +although this was only the second +time that she had ever voluntarily addressed +a word to her. +</p> +<p> +Without commenting or appearing surprised, +Betty brought over to her bedside +a quantity of bright straw and straightaway +commenced showing the girl the first +principles of the art of basket-weaving +which she had learned in the Sunrise Camp +Fire. Very little instruction was necessary; +for, before the first lesson was over, +the pupil had learned almost as much as +her teacher. Indeed the French girl’s +skill with her hands was an amazement +to everybody. With her third effort and +without assistance, Angel manufactured so +charming a basket that Betty bore it home +in triumph to show to her brother and +sister. Then quite by accident the basket +was left in Esther’s sitting room, where +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +a visitor, seeing it and hearing the story +of its weaving, asked permission to purchase +it. +</p> +<p> +After some discussion, and fearful of +how the girl might receive the offer, Betty +finally summoned courage to tell Angelique. +Thus unexpectedly Betty came upon one +of the secrets of her new friend’s nature. +Angel had an inordinate, a passionate +desire for making money. She was older +than any one had imagined her, between +fourteen and fifteen. Now her hands +were no longer clenched on her coverlid +nor did her eyes turn resolutely to gaze +at nothingness. Propped up on her pillows, +her white fingers were ever busy at +dozens of tasks. Betty had found a place +in Boston where her baskets were sold +almost as fast as she could make them. +Then Angelique knew quite amazing things +about sewing, so that Esther sent her +several tiny white frocks to be delicately +embroidered, and always the other girls +at the hospital were asking her aid and +advice. +</p> +<p> +Quite astonishing the doctors considered +the girl’s rapid improvement. Perhaps no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +one had told them the secret, for she now +had an interest in life and a chance not +to be always useless. Was it curious that +she no longer disliked Betty Ashton and +that she soon became the leading spirit +in the new Camp Fire? +</p> +<p> +Afterwards the Wohelo candles were +placed on a small table near Angel’s bed +while the girls formed their group about +her. +</p> +<p> +Then one day in early April the Princess +had whispered something in Angel’s +ear. It was only a hope or at best a plan, +yet, after all, Betty Ashton was a kind +of fairy godmother to whom all impossible +things were possible. +</p> +<p> +For Sunrise cabin was undoubtedly open +once again with four girls as its occupants—Betty +Ashton and Mollie O’Neill, Cricket +and “The Angel.” +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid you won’t find my story +as interesting as you would like it to be,” +Angel said after a moment. “And perhaps +it may prejudice you against me. I don’t +believe Americans think of these things as +French people do. But my father was a +ballet master and ever since I was the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +tiniest little girl I had been taught to +dance and dance, almost to do nothing +else. You see I was to be a <i>première +danseuse</i> some day,” Angel continued quite +simply and calmly, scarcely noticing that +Betty’s face had paled through sympathy +and that she was biting her lips and resolutely +turning away her eyes from the +fragile figure stretched out in the long +steamer chair. +</p> +<p> +“I was born in Paris, but when I was +only a few years old my father came to +New York and was one of the assistant +ballet masters at your great opera house. +Ten years later, I think it must have +been, I was trying a very difficult dance +and in some way I had a fall. I did not +know it was very bad, we paid no attention +to it, then this came.” The little +French girl shrugged her shoulders. “My +father died soon after and mother tried +taking care of us both. She did sewing +at the theaters and anything else she +could. She wasn’t very successful. One +day a chance came for me to have special +treatment in Boston. I was sent there +and mother got some other work to do. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +I have only seen her once in months and +months. But you can understand now +why I am so anxious to make money. I +was afraid perhaps you would not. I +don’t want to be a burden on mother +always and now I think perhaps I need +not be.” +</p> +<p> +Angel spoke with entire cheerfulness and +decision. It did not seem even to have +occurred to her that she had been telling +her friend an amazingly tragic little history. +Nor did Betty Ashton wish her +to realize how deeply affected she was by +it. So, jumping up with rather an affectation +of hurry and surprise, she kissed +her companion lightly on the cheek. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you a thousand times for confiding +in me, dear, and please don’t be +hopeless about never getting well. See +how much you have improved! But there +comes the first of our guests to lunch, a +whole half hour too soon. But as long as +Billy Webster promised to bring us the mail +from Woodford I suppose I must forgive +him. Anyhow I must try to keep him from +worrying Mollie. She would be dreadfully +bored to have him see her before she is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +dressed.” Betty walked away for a few +steps and then came back again. +</p> +<p> +“You will never understand perhaps, +Angel, how much my learning to know +you this winter has done for me. I was +dreadfully unhappy over something myself, +and perhaps I am still, but coming to +visit you in Boston and then our being +together down here has cheered me immensely. +I know you are a great deal +younger than I am, but if Polly O’Neill +never writes me again or wishes to have +anything more to do with me, perhaps some +day you may be willing to be my very, +very intimate friend. You see I have not +had even a single line from Polly in months +and months and I can’t even guess what on +earth has become of her.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span><a name='ch14' id='ch14'></a>CHAPTER XIV—A Sudden Summons</h2> +<p> +Though Billy Webster had brought +with him from the village half a +dozen letters and as many papers, +no one of the dwellers in Sunrise cabin was +able to read anything for three or four +hours after his arrival. +</p> +<p> +For Betty and Mollie were having an +informal luncheon. But indeed, ever since +taking up their abode at the cabin several +weeks before, they had never passed a +single day without guests. For it was too +much like old times for their Woodford +friends to find the door of the little house +once more hospitably open, with a log fire +burning in the big fire place in the living +room and the movement and laughter of +girls inside the old cabin and out. +</p> +<p> +At present there were only the four of +them living there together with the Ashton’s +old Irish cook, Ann, as their guardian, +chaperon and first aid in domestic difficulties. Later +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +on, there would be other +members of the Sunrise Hill club, who were +already looking forward to spending their +holidays at the cabin. +</p> +<p> +As a matter of course, Billy Webster was +at present their most frequent visitor, +although his calls were ordinarily short. +Almost every morning he used to ride up +to the cabin on horseback to see if things +had gone well with his friends during the +night, or to ask if there were any errands +in the village which he could do or have +done for them. For you may remember +that the land on which the cabin stood had +been bought from Billy’s father and was +not far from their farm. Billy now seemed +to be the only one of their former boy +friends who was able to come often to the +old cabin. +</p> +<p> +John Everett was at work in the broker’s +office in New York City, Frank Wharton +had only just returned from his honeymoon +journey with Eleanor Meade, and Anthony +Graham was attending a session of the +New Hampshire Legislature and probably +spending his week ends in visits to Meg +Everett. There were other men friends, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +assuredly, who appeared at the cabin now +and then, but they had fewer associations +with the past. +</p> +<p> +Betty was looking forward to John +Everett’s coming a little later; but she had +begged him to wait until they were more +comfortably settled and the two younger +girls had grown accustomed to their new +surroundings. +</p> +<p> +Today Rose Barton and Faith had driven +out to the cabin for luncheon and Mrs. +Crippen, Betty’s step-mother with the new +small step-brother, who was an adorable +red-haired baby with the pinkest of cheeks +and the bluest eyes in the world. Then, +soon after lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Frank +Wharton appeared in their up-to-date motor +car, which had been Frank’s wedding gift +from his father. +</p> +<p> +So it was a simple enough matter to +understand why neither Betty nor Mollie +had the opportunity even to glance inside +the envelopes of their letters, though Mollie +recognized that she had received one from +her mother and Betty saw that Mrs. Wharton +had also written to her. There was +nothing unusual in this, for Betty and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +Mrs. Wharton had always remained intimate +and devoted friends, just as they had +been since Betty was a tiny girl and Mrs. +Wharton, as Mrs. O’Neill, lived across the +street from the big Ashton house. +</p> +<p> +Certainly for the time being the two +hostesses had their attention fully distracted +by their social responsibilities. For Mollie +had direct charge of the luncheon party, +while to Betty had fallen the duty of seeing +that their friends learned to understand +one another and to have a gay time. +</p> +<p> +It was a pleasure for her to observe what +an interest Faith Barton had immediately +seemed to feel in her little French girl. +For one could only think of Angelique as a +child, she was so tiny and fragile with all +her delicate body hidden from view save +her quaint, vivid face and slender arms. +</p> +<p> +Faith herself had been a curious child, +and though now so nearly grown, was not +in the least like an every-day person. She +was extremely pretty, suggesting a fair +young saint in an old Italian picture; and +still she loved dreams better than realities +and books more than people. Ordinarily +she was very shy; yet here in Angelique, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +Faith believed that she had probably found +the friend of her heart. The French girl +seemed romance personified, and delicately +and gently she set out to woo her. But +Angel was not easy to win, she was still +cold and frightened with all persons except +her fairy princess. Nevertheless, Betty +sincerely hoped that the two girls might +eventually learn to care truly for each +other. +</p> +<p> +They were so different in appearance that +it was an artistic pleasure to see them +together. Faith was so soft and fair; +Angel so dark and with such possibilities +of restrained vivacity and passion. Then +the older girl knew so little of real life, +while the younger one had already touched +its sorrows too deeply. +</p> +<p> +After all, it was really Faith’s sudden +attachment that kept the guests at the +cabin longer than they had intended to +remain. +</p> +<p> +At four o’clock, fearing the excitement +too much for her protégé, Betty had persuaded +the girl to retire to bed. Faith had +at once insisted on having tea alone in the +room with Angel so that they might have a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +chance for a really intimate conversation. +It was Faith, however, who did all the +talking, nor did she even have the satisfaction +of knowing that her new acquaintance +had enjoyed her. Certainly the French girl +was going to be difficult; yet perhaps to a +romantic nature mystery is the greatest +attraction. +</p> +<p> +Actually it was almost six o’clock when +the last visitor had finally departed from +Sunrise cabin and Mollie and Betty had +a few quiet moments together. It had been +a beautiful day and now when the sun was +sinking behind the hill, spreading its radiance +over the world, the two friends stepped +outside the cabin door for a short breathing +spell. +</p> +<p> +Betty had completely forgotten her unopened +letters; she was thinking of something +entirely different, and her gray eyes +were not free from a certain wistfulness as +she looked around the familiar landscape. +All day long, although she had done her +best at concealment, she had felt vaguely +restless and unhappy. There had been no +definite reason, except, perhaps, the pathetic +story confided to her earlier in the day. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Mollie O’Neill turned toward +her friend, at the same instant drawing +two letters from her pocket. +</p> +<p> +“I declare, Betty dear, I have not had a +single moment of leisure all day, not even +time to read mother’s letter. Have you? +I do hope she had nothing of special importance +to say. I thought she might possibly +come and see us for a while this afternoon.” +</p> +<p> +Seeing Mollie open Mrs. Wharton’s note +and beginning to read it, Betty immediately +followed her example. But the moment +after both girls turned their eyes from +studying the sheets of paper before them +to stare curiously at each other. +</p> +<p> +“How very extraordinary and how very +unlike mother!” exclaimed Mollie O’Neill +in a puzzled fashion. +</p> +<p> +“Surely she must know that it is quite +out of the question for us to do what she +asks,” Betty went on, as if continuing her +friend’s sentence. “She understands that +we have just come to the cabin and that +we have promised to take the best kind of +care of Angel and Cricket with Dr. Barton’s +assistance. Of course, Mollie, you may +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +<i>have</i> to do what your mother says, but do +please make her understand that it is +impossible for me. I wish she was not so +insistent, though, it makes it dreadfully +difficult to refuse. Does your letter say +that you must leave for New York City as +early as possible tomorrow and join your +mother at the Astor Hotel?” +</p> +<p> +Mollie nodded, still frowning. “If mother +wished us to go to New York with her on +business, or pleasure, or for whatever reason, +I cannot see why she did not wait and let +us all go together tomorrow. I simply +can’t see why she should rush off this +morning as her letter says and leave us to +follow the next day. But I suppose if you +can get some one to stay on here at the +cabin with you, dear, that I must do as +mother asks. You see, she writes that it +is a matter of great importance that has +called her away and that she is relying on +my being with her.” +</p> +<p> +Reading her own letter for the second +time, Betty folded it thoughtfully and +replaced it inside the envelope. “Of course +you must go, Mollie, without a shadow of a +doubt,” she answered positively. “Rose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +and Faith will come out here and stay for +a few days and Dr. Barton will be with them +at night. I shall be rather glad to have +them know Angel better; it might help her +in a good many ways. The thing that +troubles me is whether I ought to go with +you. You see your mother also writes that +she is relying on having me with her as well. +Though she does not give me her reason, +still she is very positive. She says that +my coming to New York at the present +time will mean a great deal to me personally, +and moreover she particularly desires me +to be with you.” Betty slowly shook her +head. “I don’t see exactly how I can +refuse; do you, Mollie? I don’t believe +your mother has ever been really angry with +me in my life and I should so hate her to be +now. Besides I think it would be rather +fun to go, and of course Rose would look +after things for a few days.” +</p> +<p> +“Then it is decided?” and Mollie breathed +a sigh of mingled relief and pleasure. “Well, +I must go in at once and telephone Billy +and ask him to look up time-tables and +things. Mother has sent me a check big +enough to pay our expenses if you do not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> +happen to have the money at the cabin +with you.” +</p> +<p> +All the hours following that evening and +in the early morning were too busy with +preparations and explanations to allow of +much conjecture; yet in the back of their +minds both girls were trying to work out +the same problem. +</p> +<p> +What conceivable thing could have happened +to make Mrs. Wharton summon them +to New York in this odd fashion? Could +it have anything to do with Polly? But +if Polly had been taken suddenly ill, would +Mrs. Wharton not have given them some +slight warning, some preparation for the +shock that might lie ahead of them? Yet +it was idle to make vain guesses or to +worry without cause. In a short while +Mrs. Wharton would, of course, explain +the whole situation. +</p> +<p> +As passengers on the earliest afternoon +train that left Woodford for New York +City next day, Mollie and Betty had already +forgotten their first opposition to this +journey to New York. All at once it +appeared like a very delightful and natural +excursion. If Mrs. Wharton had occasion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +to spend several days in New York what +more agreeable than spending the time with +her? There would be the shops and +theaters to visit and a glimpse at the new +spring fashions. Moreover, Betty did not +altogether object to the idea of possibly +seeing John Everett. They were old friends +and his open admiration and attention +meant a great deal to her. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span><a name='ch15' id='ch15'></a>CHAPTER XV—“Little Old New York”</h2> +<p> +Mrs. Wharton did not seem +to consider that an explanation +was imperative immediately upon +the arrival of the two girls in New York. +At the Forty-second street station she met +them in a taxi, and certainly in traveling +to their hotel through the usual exciting +crush of motors, carriages and people there +was no opportunity for serious questioning. +</p> +<p> +They were to go to a musical as soon as +dinner was over and there was just sufficient +time to dress. So Betty went almost +at once to her own room adjoining Mrs. +Wharton’s, while Mollie occupied the room +with her mother. +</p> +<p> +Once while Mrs. Wharton was adjusting +the drapery on a new frock which she had +purchased for her daughter only that afternoon, +Mollie turned toward her mother +with her blue eyes suddenly serious. Up +to that instant she had been too much +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +absorbed in her frock to think of anything +else. +</p> +<p> +“Why in the world, mother, did you +send for us to join you in New York so +unexpectedly? If you were thinking of +coming, why did you not motor out and +tell us? Or you might at least have telephoned,” +she said. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Wharton’s face was not visible, as +she was engaged for the moment in the +study of the new gown. “I made up my +mind quite hurriedly, dear. There was +nothing I could explain over the telephone. +Besides, I have heard you and Betty say a +dozen times that nothing gave you as much +pleasure as a trip taken without any special +discussion or preparation. Don’t you think +we will have a charming time, just the +three of us, dining at the different hotels, +going to the theaters? I believe one calls it +‘doing New York.’ But hurry, now, and +finish fixing your hair. I must go and see +if I can be of any assistance to the Princess.” +And Mrs. Wharton hurried off without +even attempting to answer her daughter’s +question. +</p> +<p> +Almost the same result followed a more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +deliberate attempt at cross-examination +which took place at breakfast the following +morning. This time both Mollie and +Betty started forth as determined questioners. +Why had they been summoned +so suddenly to New York? What was the +very important reason for their presence? +It was all very charming, of course, and +frankly both girls were delighted with the +opportunity that had been given them. +Still they both thought it only natural and +fair that they should be offered some solution +to the puzzle of their mysterious and +hasty letters. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Wharton only laughed and shrugged +her shoulders ever so slightly, in a manner +always suggestive of Polly. She did not +see why she had to be taken to task so +seriously because of an agreeable invitation. +Had she said that there was some urgent +reason for her request? Well, was it not +sufficient that she wished the society of the +two girls? +</p> +<p> +Then deliberately picking up the morning +paper Mrs. Wharton refused to listen to any +further remarks addressed to her. A few +moments afterwards, observing that her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +companions had wandered from their original +topic and were criticizing the appearance +of a young woman a few tables away, a +smile suddenly crumpled the corners of her +mouth. +</p> +<p> +“Mollie, Betty, there are the most wonderful +advertisements in the papers this +morning of amazing bargains. Mollie, +you and I both need new opera cloaks +dreadfully and Mr. Wharton has said we +might both have them. Of course we will +shop all morning, but what shall we do tonight? +Go to the theater, I suppose. +When country people are in town an evening +not spent at the theater is almost a +wasted one.” +</p> +<p> +Mollie laughed. “This from mother!” +she exclaimed. “Think what you used to +tell poor Polly about the wickedness of +things theatrical! But of course I should +rather go than do anything else.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Wharton glanced toward Betty, +who appeared to be blushing slightly without +apparent cause. +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid I can’t go with you, if you +don’t mind,” she explained. “You see I +promised John Everett that I would see +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +him tonight. He wrote asking me to give +him my first evening, but I thought it better +to make it the second.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, bring John along with us, Betty +dear,” Mrs. Wharton returned. “I should +like very much to have him and besides I +don’t believe I should like you to go out +with him alone in New York or to see him +here at the hotel unless I am with you. +People are more conventional here, dear, +than in a small place.” +</p> +<p> +Betty nodded. “Of course, we shall be +delighted to be with you. What play shall +we see?” +</p> +<p> +Thoughtfully Mrs. Wharton picked up +for the second time the temporarily discarded +paper and commenced studying the +list of theatrical attractions. +</p> +<p> +“There is a little Irish play that has been +running here in New York for about a +month that is a great success,” she said. +“I think I should very much like to see it +if you girls don’t mind. It is called Moira. +I hope we shall be able to get good seats.” +</p> +<p> +The little party of three did not get back +to the hotel until after tea time that afternoon +and were then compelled to lie down, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +as they were completely worn out from +shopping. But fatigue made no difference +in the interest of the toilets which the girls +made for the evening. John Everett had +been invited to dinner as well, and most +unexpectedly Mr. Wharton had telegraphed +that he was running down from Woodford +for twenty-four hours and was bringing +Billy Webster along with him. They would +probably manage to arrive at about eight +o’clock and would dress as quickly as +possible. Dinner was not to be delayed +on their account. They expected to dine +on the train. +</p> +<p> +Of course Betty had promptly yielded to +temptation and bought herself a new evening +frock before the shopping expedition +had been under way two hours. Mrs. +Wharton had bought Mollie a charming +one only the day before and was now buying +her an opera coat to make the toilet complete. +It was extravagant; Betty fully +appreciated her own weakness. Was she +not at great expense keeping Sunrise cabin +open and looking after her two new friends? +However, she had not been to New York +for months and would probably not be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +there again in a longer time and the frock +was a rare bargain and should not be +overlooked. But every woman and girl +thoroughly understands the arguments that +must be gone through conscientiously before +yielding to the sure temptation of +clothes. +</p> +<p> +Assuredly Betty felt no pangs of conscience +when she looked at herself in the +mirror a few moments before dinner time +and just as she was about to join her +friends. The dress was simple and not +expensive, white <i>crepe de Chine</i> with a +tunic of chiffon, adorned with a wide corn-colored +girdle and little chiffon roses of the +same shade, bordering the neck and elbow +sleeves. Betty wore a bunch of violets +at her waist. Mollie was in pure white, +which was particularly becoming to her +because of her dark hair and fair skin. +</p> +<p> +But although the two girls had never +looked prettier and although Mrs. Wharton +was now past forty, a number of persons, +seeing the little party, might have thought +her the best-looking of the three. For +even in her early girlhood, when she had +been the recognized belle of Woodford, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +never had she seemed more radiant, more +full of vitality and happiness. She wore a +curious blue and silver silk dress with a +diamond ornament in her beautiful gray +hair. +</p> +<p> +All during dinner both Mollie and Betty +discovered themselves gazing at Mrs. Wharton +admiringly and with some wonder. +For not only was she looking handsomer +than usual, but seemed to be in the gayest +spirits. Neither John Everett nor the girls +had the opportunity for much conversation, +as Mrs. Wharton absorbed the greater +part of it. +</p> +<p> +However, after Billy and Mr. Wharton +had joined them, the four young people +drove together to the theater, Mr. and Mrs. +Wharton following in a second cab. +</p> +<p> +The theater party was by this time such +a large one, that, although there had been +no mention made of it beforehand, no one +was surprised at being shown a box instead +of orchestra seats. However, the fact that +the box was already occupied by two other +figures was a tremendous surprise to Mollie +and Betty. +</p> +<p> +One of them was a tall young man with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +black hair, a singularly well-cut though +rather pale face, and handsome hazel eyes. +The other was a girl, rather under medium +height, with light hair and a figure as expressive +of strength and quiet determination +as her face. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Sylvia Wharton, what on earth +has brought you to New York at such a +time?” Mollie O’Neill demanded, throwing +her arm affectionately around her step-sister’s +waist and drawing her into the rear +of the box. “I didn’t think any power on +earth could persuade you to leave those +dreadful studies of yours so near examination +time!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I am one of mother’s surprises for +you in New York!” Sylvia replied as +calmly as though she had always known the +whole story of the two girls’ unexpected +journey. Calmness was ever a trait of +Sylvia’s character. +</p> +<p> +Mollie was so excited by this unlooked-for +meeting with her younger sister that +she would give no one else a chance to speak +to her. The girls and their two escorts had +arrived before Mr. and Mrs. Wharton, and +it was therefore Mollie’s place to have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +welcomed their second guest or at least to +have spoken to him. +</p> +<p> +Under the circumstances Betty Ashton +found herself compelled to offer her hand +to Anthony Graham before any one else +seemed aware of his presence. She was +surprised to see him, she explained, yet very +glad he happened to be in town for the +evening. Betty was polite, certainly; still, +no one could have exactly accused her of +cordiality. Therefore Anthony was not +sorry that the arrival of his host and hostess +at this instant spared her from further +effort. +</p> +<p> +The evening was apparently to continue +one of surprises. For no sooner had Mrs. +Wharton’s party seated themselves in their +box than Mollie touched Betty and Sylvia +lightly with her fan. +</p> +<p> +“See, dears,” she whispered, “look +straight across the theater at the box +opposite us. There is Margaret Adams +and that good-looking Mr. Hunt, who +used to be a friend of Polly’s.” Mollie +turned to her mother. “Did you know Miss +Adams was in New York? I thought she +and Mr. Hunt were still acting.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Wharton shook her head. “No, +dear, their tour ended a week or more ago. +Miss Adams is here in New York resting. +She will not play again until next fall, I +believe. Yes, I have seen her once since +I came to town. But don’t talk, I wish to +study my program.” +</p> +<p> +With this suggestion both Mollie and +Betty glanced for an instant at the list of +characters in the center of their books of +the play. Peggy Moore was the star of the +performance. She was a young actress +who must have earned her reputation quite +recently, for no one had heard of her until +a short while before. +</p> +<p> +The bell rang for the raising of the curtain +and at the same time Margaret Adams blew +a kiss to the girls from behind her fan. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span><a name='ch16' id='ch16'></a>CHAPTER XVI—“Moira”</h2> +<p> +The first scene of the play opened +upon a handsome New York drawing +room, where preparations were +evidently being made for a ball, for the +room was filled with flowers, and servants +were seen walking in and out, completing +the final arrangements. Within a few moments +two girls wearing dainty tea gowns, +stole quietly down the stairway and stood +in the center of the stage, discussing their +approaching entertainment. They were +both pretty and fashionable young women, +evidently about eighteen and twenty-one. +From their conversation it soon became +evident that they were of plain origin and +making a desperate effort to secure a place +for themselves among the “smart set” in +New York City. Moreover, they were +spending more money than they should +in the effort. The father had been an Irish +politician, but, as he had died several years +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +before, no outsiders knew the extent of the +family fortune. Upon the horizon there +was a friend upon whom much depended. +He was evidently a member of an old New +York family and of far better social standing +than the rest of their acquaintances; +moreover, he was wealthy, handsome and +agreeable and had paid the older of the +two sisters, Kate, somewhat marked attention. +</p> +<p> +When after a few moments’ delay the +second scene was revealed the ball had +already begun. The stage setting was +remarkably beautiful, the costumes charming +and the dialogue clever. Yet so far +the play had no poignant interest, so that +now and then Betty found her attention +wandering. +</p> +<p> +What could have made this little play +such a pronounced success that the dramatic +critics had been almost universal in their +praise of it? she wondered. What special +charm did it have which crowded the +theater every evening as it was crowded +tonight? It was only a frivolous society +drama of a kind that must have been acted +many times before. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +</p> +<p> +Behind her lace handkerchief Betty gracefully +concealed a yawn. Then she glanced +across the theater toward Margaret Adams’ +box, hoping she might catch another smile +or nod from the great lady. But Miss +Adams was leaning forward with her figure +tense with interest and her eyes fastened +in eager expectancy upon a door at the rear +of the stage. Back of her, and it seemed to +Betty even at this distance, that his face +looked unusually white and strained, stood +Richard Hunt. Assuredly he seemed as +intent upon the play as Miss Adams. +</p> +<p> +Betty stared at the stage again. A dance +had just ended, the guests were separating +into groups and standing about talking. +But a timid knock now sounded on the door +which apparently no one heard. A moment +later this door is slowly opened. There +followed a murmur of excitement, a little +electric thrill passing through the audience +so that unexpectedly Betty found her own +pulses tingling with interest and excitement. +What a goose she had been! Surely she had +heard half a dozen times at least that the +success of this new play was entirely due +to the charm and talent of the young +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +actress, Peggy Moore, who took the part +of the heroine. +</p> +<p> +At the open door the newcomer was seen +hesitating. No one noticed her, then she +walked timidly forward and stood alone in +the center of the stage, one of the most +appealing, delicious and picturesque of +figures in the world of fiction or reality. +</p> +<p> +The girl was wearing an absurd costume, +a bright red blouse, open at the throat, +a plaid skirt too short for the slender legs +beneath it and a big flapping straw hat decorated +with a single rose. In one hand she +carried an old-fashioned carpet bag and in +the other a tiny Maltese kitten. The girl +had two long braids of black hair that hung +below her waist, scarlet lips, a white imploring +face and wistful, humorous, tender +blue eyes. +</p> +<p> +Betty was growing cold to the tips of her +fingers, although her face flushed until it +felt almost painful. Then she overheard +a queer, half-restrained sound near her and +the next instant Mrs. Wharton leaned +forward from her place and placed a hand +on her arm and on Mollie’s. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, girls, it is Polly!” she whispered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +quietly, although with shining eyes. “But +please, please don’t stir or do anything in +the world to attract her attention. It was +Polly’s own idea to surprise you like this, +and yet she is dreadfully afraid that the +sight of you may make her break down and +forget her part. She is simply wonderful!” +</p> +<p> +Naturally this was a mother’s opinion; +however, nothing that Mrs. Wharton was +saying was making the slightest impression, +for neither Mollie nor Betty had heard a +word. +</p> +<p> +For Moira, the little Irish girl, had begun +to speak and everybody on the stage was +looking toward her, smiling and shrugging +their shoulders, except the two daughters +of the house and their fashionable mother. +</p> +<p> +Moira had asked for her aunt, Mrs. +Mulholland. She was not an emigrant +maid-of-all-work, as the guests presumed +her to be, but a niece of the wealthy household. +She had crossed the ocean alone and +was expecting a welcome from her relatives. +</p> +<p> +At this point in the drama the hero came +forward to the little Irish maid’s assistance. +Then her aunt and cousins dared not display +the anger they felt for this undesired guest. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +Later it was explained that Moira had +been sent to New York by her old grandfather, +who, fearing that he was about to die, +wished the girl looked after by her relatives. +Moira’s father had been the son that stayed +behind in Ireland. He had been desperately +poor and the grandfather was supposed to be +equally so. Then, of course, followed the +history of the child’s efforts to fit herself +into the insincere and unkind household. +</p> +<p> +Nothing remarkable in the story of the +little play, surely, but everything in the +art with which Polly O’Neill acted it! +</p> +<p> +Tears and smiles, both in writing and +acting: these are what the artist desires +as his true recognition. And Polly seldom +spoke half a dozen lines without receiving +one or the other. Sometimes the smiles +and tears crowded so close together that +the one had not sufficient time to thrust the +other away. +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t dream the child had it in her: +it is genius!” Margaret Adams whispered +to her companion, when the curtain had +finally fallen on the second act and she had +leaned back in her chair with a sigh of +mingled pleasure and relief. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +</p> +<p> +“She had my promise to say nothing +until tonight. Yes, I have been in the +secret since last winter.” Richard explained. +“It was a blessed accident Polly’s +finding just this particular kind of play. +She could have played no other so well +while still so young. You see, she was +acting in a cheap stock company when a +manager happened quite by chance to +discover her. But she will want to tell you +the story herself. I must not anticipate.” +</p> +<p> +For a moment, instead of replying, +Margaret Adams looked slightly amazed. +“I did not know that you and Polly were +such great friends, Richard, that she has +preferred confiding in you to any one else,” +she said at length. +</p> +<p> +Richard Hunt had taken his seat and was +now watching the unconcealed triumph and +delight among the group of Polly’s family +and friends in the box across the theater. +</p> +<p> +“I wasn’t chosen; I was an accident,” +the man smiled. “Last winter in Boston +I met Polly—Miss O’Neill,” he corrected +himself, “and she told me what she was +trying to do, fight things out for herself +without advice or assistance from any one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +of us. But, of course, after I was taken into +her secret she allowed me to keep in touch +with her now and then. The child was +lonely and dreadfully afraid you and her +other friends would not understand or forgive +what she had tried to do.” +</p> +<p> +“Polly is not exactly a child, Richard; +she must be nearly twenty-two,” Margaret +Adams replied quietly. +</p> +<p> +In the final act the little Irish heroine had +her hour of triumph. The hero had fallen +in love with her instead of with the fashionable +cousin. Yet Moira was not the pauper +her relatives had believed her, for the old +grandfather had recently died and his +solicitor appeared with his will. The Irish +township had purchased his acres of supposedly +worthless land and Moira was +proclaimed an heiress. +</p> +<p> +At the end Polly was her gayest, most +inimitable, laughing self. Half a dozen +times Betty, Mollie and Sylvia found themselves +forgetting that she was acting at all. +How many times had they not known her +just as wilful and charming, their Polly of a +hundred swift, succeeding moods. +</p> +<p> +Moira was not angry with any one in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +world, certainly not with the cousins who +had been almost cruel to her. During her +stay among them she had learned of their +need of money and was now quick to offer +all that she had. She was so generous, so +happy, and with it all so petulant and charming, +that at last even the stern aunt and the +envious cousins succumbed to her. +</p> +<p> +Then the curtain descended on a very +differently clad heroine, but one who was +essentially unchanged. Moira was dressed +in a white satin made in the latest and most +exquisite fashion; and her black hair was +beautifully arranged on her small, graceful +head. Only the people who loved her +could have dreamed that Polly O’Neill +would ever look so pretty. And in one hand +the girl was holding a single red rose, +though under the other arm she was still +clutching her beloved Maltese cat. +</p> +<p> +“Polly will not answer any curtain calls +tonight,” Mrs. Wharton whispered hurriedly +when the last scene was over. “If the +others will excuse us she has asked that +only Sylvia, Betty and Mollie come to her +room. Margaret Adams will be there, but +no one else. She is very tired at the close +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +of her performances, but she is afraid you +girls may not forgive her long silence and +her deception. Will you come this way +with me?” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span><a name='ch17' id='ch17'></a>CHAPTER XVII—A Reunion</h2> +<p> +Next morning at half past ten +o’clock Polly O’Neill was sitting +upright in bed in the room at her +hotel with Betty on one side, Mollie on the +other and Sylvia at the foot, gazing rather +searchingly upon the object of their present +devotion. +</p> +<p> +Polly was wearing a pale pink dressing +jacket trimmed with a great deal of lace +and evidently quite new. Indeed it had +been purchased with the idea of celebrating +this great occasion. The girl’s cheeks were +as crimson as they had been on the stage +the night before and her eyes were as +shining. She was talking with great +rapidity and excitement. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, it is perfectly thrilling and delightful, +Mollie Mavourneen, and I never was +so happy in my life, now that you know +all about me and are not really angry,” +Polly exclaimed gayly. “But I can tell +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +you it wasn’t all honey and roses last +winter, working all alone and being lonely +and homesick and miserable most of the +time. No one praised me or sent me +flowers <i>then</i>,” and the girl looked with +perfectly natural vanity and satisfaction +at the big box of roses that had just been +opened and was still lying on her lap. +On her bureau there were vases of fresh +flowers and several other boxes on a nearby +table. +</p> +<p> +“Well, it must be worth any amount of +hard work and unhappiness to be so popular +and famous,” Mollie murmured, glancing +with heartfelt admiration and yet with a +little wistfulness at her twin sister. “Just +think, Polly dear, we are exactly the same +age and used to do almost the same things; +and now you are a celebrated actress and +I’m just nobody at all. I am sorry I used +to be so opposed to your going on the stage. +I think it perfectly splendid now.” +</p> +<p> +With a laugh that had a slight quaver +in it Polly threw an arm about her sister +and hugged her close. “You silly darling, +how you have always flattered me and how +dearly I do love it!” she returned, looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +with equal admiration at the soft roundness +of Mollie’s girlish figure and the pretty +dimples in her delicately pink cheeks. +“I am not a celebrated actress in the least, +sister of mine, just because I have succeeded +in doing one little character part so that a +few people, just a few people, like it. I do +wonder what Margaret Adams thought of +me. She did not say much last night. She +is coming to see me presently, so I am desperately +nervous over what she will say. +One swallow does not make a career any +more than it makes a summer. And as for +daring to say you are nobody, Mollie +O’Neill, I never heard such arrant nonsense +in my life. For you know perfectly well +that you are a thousand times prettier, +more charming and more popular than I am, +and everybody knows it except you. But, +of course, you never have believed it in +your life, you blessed little goose!” and +Polly pinched her sister’s soft arm appreciatively. +“I wish there was as much of +me as there is of you for one thing, Mollie +darling, your figure is a perfect dream and +I’m nothing in the world but skin and +bones,” Polly finished at last, drawing her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +dressing jacket more closely about her with +a barely concealed shiver. +</p> +<p> +From the foot of the bed Sylvia was +eyeing her severely. “Yes, we had already +noticed that without your mentioning it, +Polly,” she remarked dryly. +</p> +<p> +Her only answer was a careless shrugging +of her thin shoulders, as Polly turned this +time toward Betty. +</p> +<p> +“What makes <i>you</i> so silent, Princess? +You are not vexed with me and only said +you were not angry last night to spare my +feelings?” Polly asked more seriously +than she had yet spoken. Even though +Polly might believe that she loved her +sister better, yet she realized that they +could never so completely understand each +other and never have perhaps quite the +same degree of spiritual intimacy as she +had with her friend. +</p> +<p> +Betty took Polly’s outstretched hand and +held it lightly. +</p> +<p> +“I was only thinking of something; I +beg your pardon, dear,” Betty replied +quietly. +</p> +<p> +Polly frowned. “You are not to think +of anything or anybody except me today,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +she demanded jealously. “You have had +months and months to think about other +people. This is the best of what I have +been working for—just to have you girls +with me like this, and have you praise me +and make love to me as Mollie did. Yes, I +understand I am being desperately vain and +self-centered, Princess; so you may think +it your duty to take me to task for it. But +it is only because I have always been such +a dreadful black sheep among all the other +Camp Fire girls. Then I suppose it is +also because we have been separated so +long. Pretty soon I’ll have to go back to +the work-a-day, critical old world where +nobody really cares a thing about me and +where ‘my career,’ as Mollie calls it, has +scarcely begun. But please don’t make me +do all the talking, Betty, it is so unlike me +and I can see that Sylvia thinks I am saying +far too much.” Here Polly’s apparently +endless stream of conversation was interrupted +by a fit of coughing, which took all +the color from her cheeks, brought there by +the morning’s excitement, and left her +huddled up among her pillows pale and +breathless, with Sylvia’s light blue eyes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +staring at her with a somewhat enigmatic +expression. +</p> +<p> +Betty smiled, however, pulling at one of +the long braids of black hair with some +severity. Last night it had seemed to her +that Polly O’Neill was quite the most +wonderful person in the world and that +she could never feel exactly the same +toward her, but must surely treat her with +entirely new reverence and respect. Yet +here she was, just as absurd and childish +as ever and pleading for compliments as a +child for sweets. No one could treat Polly +O’Neill with great respect, though love her +one must to the end of the chapter. She +had a thousand faults, yet Betty knew +that vanity was not one of them. It was +simply because of her affection for her +friends that she wished to find them pleased +with her. In her heart of hearts no one was +humbler than Polly. Betty at least understood +that her ambition would never leave +her satisfied with one success. +</p> +<p> +“But I <i>was</i> thinking of you, my ridiculous +Polly!” Betty answered finally. “I +regret to state, however, that I was not +for the moment dwelling on your great and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +glorious career. Naturally no other Sunrise +Hill Camp Fire girl may ever hope to +aspire so high. I was wondering whether +your mother allowed you to wander around +by yourself last winter, and, if she did, how +you ever managed to take proper care of +yourself.” +</p> +<p> +“Dear me, hasn’t mother told you? +Why of course I had a chaperon, child! +Mollie, please ring the bell for me. She is +a dear and is dreadfully anxious to meet +all of you,” Polly explained. “But Sylvia +took care of me too—would you mind not +staring at me quite so hard <i>all</i> the time, +Sylvia? I know I am better looking behind +the footlights,” Polly now urged +almost plaintively, for her younger sister +was making her decidedly nervous by +her continued scrutiny. “Betty, even you +will hardly place me at the head of the +theatrical profession at present,” she +continued. “Though I am quite green +with jealousy, I must tell you that Sylvia +Wharton has stood at the head of her class +in medicine, male and female, during this +entire year and is confidently expected to +come out first in her final examinations. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +I am abominably afraid that Sylvia may +develop into a more distinguished Camp +Fire girl in the end than I ever shall.” +</p> +<p> +There was no further opportunity at +present for further personal discussion, for +at this instant a tall, dark-haired woman +with somewhat timid manners entered the +room, where she stood hesitating, glancing +from one girl’s face to the other. +</p> +<p> +“You know Sylvia, Mrs. Martins, so +this is Mollie, whom you may recognize as +being a good-looking likeness of me,” Polly +began. “Of course this third person is +necessarily Betty Ashton.” +</p> +<p> +From her place on the bed Sylvia had +smiled her greeting, but Mollie and Betty +of course got up at once and walked forward +to shake hands with the newcomer. +</p> +<p> +Then unexpectedly and to Betty’s immense +surprise, she found both of her +hands immediately clasped in an ardent +embrace by the stranger, while the woman +gazed at her with her lips trembling and +the tears streaming unchecked down her +face. +</p> +<p> +“How shall I ever thank you or make +you understand?” she said passionately. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +“All my life long I can never repay what +you have done for me, but at least I shall +never forget it.” +</p> +<p> +Betty pressed the newcomer’s hand +politely, turning from her to Polly, hoping +that she might in her friend’s expression +find some clue to this puzzling utterance. +Polly appeared just as rapt and mysterious. +</p> +<p> +“You are awfully kind and I am most +happy to meet you,” Betty felt called on to +reply, “but I am afraid you must have +mistaken me for some one else. It is I +who owe gratitude to you for having taken +such good care of Polly.” +</p> +<p> +The Princess was gracious and sweet in +her manner, but she could hardly be +expected not to have drawn back slightly +from such an extraordinary greeting from +a stranger. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my dear, I ought to have explained +to you. You must forgive me, it is because +I feel so deeply and that the people of my +race cannot always control their emotions +so readily,” the older woman protested. +“It is my little girl, for whom you have +done such wonderful things. She has +written me that she is almost happy now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +that you have become her fairy princess. +And in truth you are quite lovely enough,” +the stranger continued, believing that at +last she was making herself clear. +</p> +<p> +“I? Your little girl?” Betty repeated +stupidly. “You don’t mean you are +Angelique’s mother? But of course you +are. Now I can see that you look like +each other and your name is ‘Martins.’ +It is curious, but I paid no attention to +your name at first and never associated +you with my little French girl.” Now it +was Betty’s turn to find her voice shaking, +partly from pleasure and also from +embarrassment. “It was a beautiful accident, +wasn’t it, for Angelique and I, and +you and Polly to find each other? But you +have nothing to thank me for, Mrs. Martins. +Angel has given me more pleasure +than I can ever give her. She has been +so wonderful since she found something in +life to interest her. Won’t you come to +the cabin with me right away and see her? +Mollie and Mrs. Wharton can surely look +after Polly for a few days; besides she +never does what any one tells her.” +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Betty let go her companion’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +hand, swinging around toward the elfish +figure in the bed. For Polly did look +elfish at this moment, with her knees +huddled up almost to her chin and her head +resting on her hand. Her eyes were almost +all one could see of her face at present, +they looked so absurdly large and so +darkly blue. +</p> +<p> +Betty seized the girl by both shoulders, +giving her a tiny shake. +</p> +<p> +“Polly O’Neill, did you write me those +anonymous letters about Angel last winter? +Oh, of course you did! But what a queer +muddle it all is! I don’t understand, for +Angel told me that she had never heard of +Polly O’Neill in her entire life until I spoke +of you.” +</p> +<p> +“And no more she has, Princess,” returned +Polly smiling. “Everybody sit down +and be good, please, while I explain things +as far as I understand them. You see Mrs. +Martins and I met each other at the +theater one evening where she had come to +do some wonderful sewing for some one. +Well, of course my clothes were in rags, +for with all our Camp Fire training I never +learned much about the gentle art of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +stitching. So Mrs. Martins promised to do +some work for me and by and by we got +to knowing each other pretty well. One +day I found her crying, and then she told +me about her little girl. A friend had +offered to send Angelique to this hospital +in Boston and Mrs. Martins felt she must +let her go, as she could not make enough +money to keep them comfortable. Besides +Angelique needed special care and treatment. +Of course she realized it was best +for her little girl, yet they were horribly +grieved over being separated. +</p> +<p> +“Just at this time, Miss Brown, whom +mother had persuaded to travel with me all +winter, got terribly tired of her job. So I +asked Mrs. Martins if she cared to come +with me. When she and mother learned +to know and like each other things were +arranged. +</p> +<p> +“Afterwards the heavenly powers must +have sent you to that hospital, Betty dear, +otherwise there is no accounting for it. +Pretty soon after your first visit Angel +wrote her mother describing a lovely lady +with auburn hair, gray eyes and the most +charming manner in the world, who had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +been to the hospital to see them, but had +only said a few words to her. Yes, I +know you think that is queer, Betty, but +please remember that though Angelique +knew her mother was traveling with an +eccentric young female, she did not know +my real name. I was Peggy Moore to her +always, just as I was to you until last +night. Can’t you understand? Of course +I knew you were in Boston with Esther +and Dick, and besides there could be only +one Betty Ashton in the world answering +to your description. Then, of course, +Mrs. Martins and I both wanted to write +and explain things to you dreadfully, yet +at the same time I did not wish you to +guess where I was or what I was doing. So +I persuaded Mrs. Martins to wait; at the +same time I did write you these silly anonymous +letters, for I was so anxious for you +to be particularly interested in Angel. I +might have known you would have been +anyway, you dearest of princesses and +best,” whispered Polly so earnestly that +Betty drew away from her friend’s embrace, +her cheeks scarlet. +</p> +<p> +“I am going to another room with Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +Martins to have a long talk, Polly, while +you rest,” Betty answered the next moment. +“Mrs. Wharton said that we were +not to stay with you but an hour and a +half and it has been two already. You +will want to be at your best when Margaret +Adams comes to see you this afternoon.” +</p> +<p> +“If you mean in the best of health, +Betty,” Sylvia remarked at this instant, as +she got down somewhat awkwardly from +her seat on the bed, “then I might as well +tell you that Polly O’Neill is far from +being even ordinarily well. She has not +been well all winter; but now, with the +excitement and strain of her first success, +she is utterly used up. All I can say is +that if she does not quit this acting business +and go somewhere and have a <i>real rest</i>, +well, we shall all be sorry some day,” and +with this unexpected announcement Sylvia +stalked calmly out of the room, leaving +three rather frightened women and one +exceedingly angry one behind her. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span><a name='ch18' id='ch18'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—Home Again</h2> +<p> +“But, my beloved mother, you really +can’t expect such a sacrifice of me. +There isn’t anything else in the +world you could ask that I would not agree +to, but even you must see that this is out +of the question.” +</p> +<p> +It was several days later and Polly was +in her small sitting room with her mother +and Sylvia. +</p> +<p> +“Besides it is absurd and wicked of +Sylvia to have frightened you so and I +shan’t forgive her, even if she has been +good as gold to me all her life. How can +I give up my part and go away from New +York just when I am beginning to be a +tiny bit successful?” Then, overcome with +sympathy for herself, Polly cast herself +down in a heap upon a small sofa and +with her face buried in the sofa cushions +burst into tears. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Wharton walked nervously up and +down the room. +</p> +<p> +“I know it is dreadfully hard for you, +dear, and I do realize how much I am +asking, even if you don’t think so, Polly,” +she replied. “Besides you must not be +angry with Sylvia. Of course I have not +taken the child’s opinion alone, clever as +she is. Two physicians have seen you in +the last few days, as you know, and they +have both given me the same opinion. +You are on the verge of a nervous breakdown. +If you will give up now it may not +be serious, but if you will insist upon +going on with your work no one will +answer for the consequences. It is only a +matter of a few weeks, my dear. I have +seen your manager and he is willing to +agree to your stopping as long as it is +absolutely necessary. Perhaps you may be +well enough to start in again in the fall. +Isn’t it wiser to stop now for a short rest +than to have to give up altogether later +on?” she urged consolingly. +</p> +<p> +As there was no answer from Polly, Mrs. +Wharton’s own eyes also filled with tears. +At the same moment Sylvia came up to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> +her step-mother and patted her comfortingly +on the shoulder. It was odd, but +Sylvia rarely expressed affection by kissing +or the embraces common among most +girls. Yet in her somewhat shy caresses +there was fully as deep feeling. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t worry, mother, things will turn +out all right,” she now said reassuringly. +“Of course it is pretty hard on Polly. +Even I appreciate that. But it is silly of +her to protest against the inevitable. She +will save herself a lot of strength if she only +finds <i>that</i> out some day. But I’ll leave +you together, since my being here only +makes her more obstinate than ever.” +</p> +<p> +As Sylvia was crossing the floor a sofa +cushion was thrown violently at her from +the apparently grief-stricken figure on the +sofa. But while Mrs. Wharton looked +both grieved and shocked Sylvia only +laughed. Was there ever such another +girl as her step-sister? Here she was at +one instant weeping bitterly at the wrecking +of her career, as she thought, and the +next shying sofa cushions like a naughty +child. +</p> +<p> +Once Sylvia was safely out of the way, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> +Polly again sat upright on the sofa, drawing +her mother down beside her. It was +just as well that Sylvia had departed, for +she was the one person in the world whom +Polly had never been able to influence, or +turn from her own point of view, by any +amount of argument or persuasion. With +her mother alone her task would be easier. +Nevertheless Mrs. Wharton appeared singularly +determined and Polly remembered +that there had been occasions when her +mother’s decision must be obeyed. +</p> +<p> +However, she was no longer a child, and +although it would make her extremely +miserable to appear both obstinate and +unloving, it might in this single instance be +absolutely necessary. How much had +she not already endured to gain this slight +footing in her profession? Now to turn her +back on it in the midst of her first success, +because a few persons had made up their +minds that she was ill,—well, any sensible +or reasonable human being must understand +that it was <i>quite</i> out of the question. +</p> +<p> +So the discussion continued between the +woman and girl, the same arguments being +repeated over and over, the same pleading, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +and yet without arriving at any sort of +conclusion. There is no knowing how long +this might have kept up if there had not +come a sudden knocking at the door. +</p> +<p> +Opening it the boy outside handed Mrs. +Wharton a card. +</p> +<p> +“It is Mr. Hunt who has come to see +you, Polly; shall I say you are not well? +Or what shall I say? Of course it is out +of the question for you to see any stranger, +child. You have been crying until your +face is swollen and your hair is in dreadful +confusion,” Mrs. Wharton protested +anxiously. +</p> +<p> +Polly unexpectedly scrambled to her feet. +“Ask Mr. Hunt to wait a few minutes, +please, mother, and then we will telephone +down and tell him to come up. You see +I had an engagement with him this afternoon +and don’t like to refuse to see him. +For once it is a good thing I have no pretensions +to beauty like Betty and Mollie. +Moreover, mother, I am obliged to confess +to you that Mr. Hunt has seen me before, +not only after I had been weeping, but +while I was engaged in the act. You +know he was about the only friend I saw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +all last winter, when I was so blue and +discouraged with life. Besides, I am sure +he will understand my point of view in +this dreadful discussion we have just been +having and will help me to convince you.” +</p> +<p> +Five minutes afterwards the celebrated +Miss Polly O’Neill had restored her hair +and costume to some semblance of order, +although her eyes were still somewhat red +and heavy, as well as her nose. Nevertheless +she greeted her visitor without particular +embarrassment. Mrs. Wharton, +however, could not pull herself together so +readily; so after a few moments of conventional +conversation she asked to be excused +and went away, leaving her daughter +and guest alone. +</p> +<p> +Fifteen minutes passed, half an hour, +finally an entire hour. All this while Mrs. +Wharton, remaining in her daughter’s bedroom +which adjoined the sitting room, could +hear the sound of two voices. +</p> +<p> +Of course Polly did the greater share of +the talking, but now and then Richard +Hunt would speak for several moments at +a time and afterwards there would be odd +intervals of silence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Wharton could not hear what was +being said, and she scarcely wished to +return to the sitting room. She was still +far too worried and nervous, although, +having an engagement that must be kept, +she wished to say good-by to Polly before +leaving the hotel. +</p> +<p> +Richard Hunt rose immediately upon +Mrs. Wharton’s entrance. +</p> +<p> +“I am ever so sorry to have made such +a long visit,” he apologized at once, “and +I hope I have not interfered with you. +Only Miss O’Neill and I have been having +a pretty serious and important talk and I +did not realize how much time had passed.” +</p> +<p> +Polly’s eyes had been fastened upon +something in the far distance. Now she +glanced toward her guest. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, you need not apologize to mother for +the length of your stay. When she hears +what we have been discussing she will be +more than grateful to you,” Polly interrupted. +</p> +<p> +“You see, mother, Mr. Hunt does not +agree with me, as I thought he would. +Who ever has agreed with me in this tiresome +world? He also thinks that I must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +stop acting at once and go away with you, +if my family and the doctors think it necessary. +And he has frightened me terribly +with stories of people who have nervous +breakdowns and never recover. People +who never remember the lines in their +plays again or what part they are expected +to act. So I surrender, dear. I’ll go away +with you as soon as things can be arranged +wherever you wish to take me.” And +Polly held up both her hands with an +intended expression of saintliness, which +was not altogether successful. +</p> +<p> +“Bravo!” Richard Hunt exclaimed +quietly. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Wharton extended her hand. +</p> +<p> +“I am more grateful to you than I can +express. You have saved us all from a +great deal of unhappiness and I believe +you have saved Polly from more than she +understands,” she added. +</p> +<p> +The girl took her mother’s hand, touching +it lightly with her lips. “Please don’t +tell Mr. Hunt what my family think of +my obstinacy,” she pleaded. “Because if +you do, he will either have no respect for +me or else will have too much for himself because I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +gave in to him,” she said +saucily. +</p> +<p> +Yet it was probably ten minutes after +Mr. Hunt’s departure before it occurred +to Mrs. Wharton to be surprised over +Polly’s unexpected surrender to a comparative +stranger, when she had refused to +be influenced by any member of her own +family. +</p> +<p> +But now the question of chief importance +was where should Polly go for her much +needed rest? It was her own decision +finally that rather than any other place in +the world she preferred to return to Woodford +to spend the summer months in the +old cabin near Sunrise Hill. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span><a name='ch19' id='ch19'></a>CHAPTER XIX—Illusions Swept Away</h2> +<p> +It was a golden July afternoon two +months later when all nature was a +splendid riot of color and perfume. +In a hammock under a group of pine trees +a girl lay half asleep. Now and then she +would open her eyes to glance at the lazy +white clouds overhead. Then she would +look with perhaps closer attention at the +figure of another girl who was seated a few +yards away. +</p> +<p> +If the girl in the hammock was dreaming, +her companion fitted oddly into her dream. +She was dressed in a simple white muslin +frock and her hair had a band of soft blue +ribbon tied about it. In her lap lay an +open book, but no page had been turned +in the last fifteen minutes and indeed she +was quieter than her friend who was supposed +to be asleep. +</p> +<p> +“Betty,” a voice called softly, “bring +your chair nearer to me. I have done my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span> +duty nobly for the past two hours and have +not spoken a single, solitary word. So +even the sternest of doctors and nurses +can’t say I am unfaithful to my rest cure. +Besides it is absurd, now when I am as +well as any one else. Yes, that is much +better, Betty, and you are, please, to gaze +directly into my face while I am talking to +you. I haven’t liked your fashion lately +of staring off into space, as you were doing +just recently and indeed on all occasions +when you believe no one is paying any +special attention to you.” +</p> +<p> +With a low curtsey Betty did as she was +commanded. She even knelt down on the +ground beside the hammock to look the +more directly into the eyes of her friend. +But as she continued, unexpectedly a slow +color crept into her cheeks from her +throat upwards until it had flushed her +entire face. +</p> +<p> +“I declare, Polly,” she exclaimed jumping +to her feet abruptly and sitting down in +her chair again, “you make me feel as though +I had committed some offence, though I do +assure you I have been as good as gold, so +far as I know, for a long, long time.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +</p> +<p> +Polly was silent a moment. “You know +perfectly well, Betty, that I don’t think +you have done anything wrong. You need +not use that excuse to try and deceive me, +dear, because it does not make the slightest +impression. The truth is, Betty, that you +have a secret that you are keeping from me +and from every one else so far as I know. +Of course there isn’t any reason why you +should confide in me if you don’t wish. +You may be punishing me for my lack of +confidence in you last winter.” +</p> +<p> +This last statement was possibly made +with a double intention. Betty responded +to it instantly. +</p> +<p> +“Surely, Polly, you must know that +would not make the slightest difference,” +she returned earnestly. And then the next +instant, as if fearing that she might have +betrayed herself: “But what in the world +makes you think I am cherishing a secret, +you absurd Polly? I suppose you have had +to have something to think about these +past two months, when you have spent so +much time lying down. Well, when I see +how you have improved I am quite willing +to have been your victim.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +</p> +<p> +With a quick motion the other girl now +managed to sit upright, piling her sofa +cushions behind her. Her color was certainly +sufficiently vivid at this instant. +But indeed she was so improved in every +way that one would hardly have known her +for the Polly O’Neill of the past year’s +trials and successes. Her figure was almost +rounded, her chin far less pointed and all +the lines of fatigue and nervous strain had +vanished from her face. But Polly’s temper +had not so materially changed! +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t worth while to accuse me of +having tried to spy into your private +affairs, Princess,” she replied haughtily. +“But if you do feel that I have, then I +ask your pardon for now and all times. +I shall never be so offensive again.” +</p> +<p> +There followed a vast and complete +human silence. Then Polly got up from +her resting place and went and put her arm +quietly about her friend. +</p> +<p> +“Princess, I would rather that the stars +should fall or the world come to an end, +than have you really angry with me,” she +murmured. “But you know I did not mean +to offend you by asking you to confide in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +me, don’t you? Anyway I promise never, +never to ask you again. Here, let me have +the Woodford paper, please. I believe +Billy brought us the afternoon edition. +I wonder if he and Mollie will be gone on +their boating expedition for long? They +must have been around the lake half a +dozen times already.” +</p> +<p> +As though dismissing the subject of their +past conversation entirely from her mind, +Polly, resuming her hammock, now buried +herself in the columns of the Woodford +<i>Gazette</i>. Apparently she had not observed +that no reply had been made either to her +accusation or apology. She could see that +Betty was not seriously angry, which was +the main thing. +</p> +<p> +“Get out your embroidery, Princess, +and let me read the news aloud to you;” +she demanded next. “I love to watch you +sew. It is not because you do it so particularly +well, but because you always +manage to look like a picture in a book. +Funny thing, dear, why you have such a +different appearance from the rest of us. +Oh, I am not saying that probably other +girls are not as pretty as you are, Mollie +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +and Meg for instance. But you have a +different look somehow. No wonder Angel +thinks you are a fairy princess.” +</p> +<p> +But at this moment an unexpected +choking sound, that seemed in some fashion +to have come forth from Betty, interrupted +the flow of her friend’s compliments. +</p> +<p> +“Please don’t, Polly,” she pleaded. +“You know I love your Irish blarney most +of the time beyond anything in this world. +But now I want to tell you something. +I have had a kind of a secret for over a +year, but it is past now and I’m dreadfully +sorry if you believe you find a change in +me that you don’t like. I suppose sometimes +I do feel rather blue simply because +I am of so little account in the world. +Please don’t think I am jealous, but you +and Sylvia and Nan and Meg are all doing +things and Esther and Edith and Eleanor +are married and Mollie helps her mother +with your big house. I believe Beatrice +and Judith are both at college, though we +have been separated from them for such a +long time. So you see I am the only good-for-nothing +in the old Sunrise Hill Camp +Fire circle.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I see,” was the somewhat curt +reply from behind the outspread paper. +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Martins told me yesterday that +the surgeons Dr. Barton brought to see +Angelique think she may be able to walk +in another year or so and I believe Cricket +is to give up her crutches altogether +in a few months,” Polly presently remarked. +</p> +<p> +In the sunshine Betty Ashton’s face shone +with happiness. “Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” +she remarked innocently. +</p> +<p> +“Of course, doing beautiful things for +other people isn’t being of the slightest +use in the world,” the other girl continued, +as though talking to herself. “Yet Mrs. +Martins also said yesterday, that she and +Angelique believed they had strayed into +Paradise they were so happy here at the +cabin with the prospect of Angel’s growing +better ahead of them. And I believe +Cricket dances and sings with every step +she takes nowadays.” +</p> +<p> +“But I?” interrupted Betty. +</p> +<p> +“No, of course you have had nothing +in the world to do with it and I never +accused you for a single instant,” her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> +friend argued, and then Polly fell to reading +the paper aloud. +</p> +<p> +“‘The friends of Doctor and Mrs. Richard +Ashton, now of Boston, Massachusetts, but +formerly of Woodford, New Hampshire, +will be delighted to hear of the birth of +their son, Richard Jr., on July the fourteenth.’ +How does it feel to be an aunt?” +the reader demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Delicious,” Betty sighed, and then began +dreaming of her new nephew, wondering +when she was to be allowed to see him, +until Polly again interfered with her train +of thought. +</p> +<p> +“‘Mr. and Mrs. Frank Wharton entertained +at dinner last night in their new home +in honor of Mr. Anthony Graham, our +brilliant young congressman who has returned +to Woodford for a few days.’ Well, +I like that!” Polly protested. “Think of +Frank and Eleanor daring to give a dinner +party and asking none of their other old +friends or relatives. They <i>must</i> feel set +up at being married before the rest of us.” +</p> +<p> +For the first time Betty now actually +took a few industrious stitches in her +embroidery. “Oh, they probably did not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> +have but two or three guests. You know +how papers exaggerate things, Pollykins, +I would not be so easily offended with my +relations,” she protested. +</p> +<p> +“No, but you used to be such an intimate +friend of Anthony Graham’s. Do +you know I look upon him as one of your +good works, Betty? I wonder if he will +condescend to come to the cabin to see us, +now he is such a busy and distinguished +person. Is he as much a friend of yours +now as he used to be?” +</p> +<p> +Unexpectedly Betty’s thread broke, so +that she was forced to make another knot +before replying. +</p> +<p> +“Friend of mine? No, yes; well, that is +we are friendly, of course, only Anthony has +grown so fond of Meg Everett lately that +he has not much time for any one else. +But please don’t speak of anything I +ever did for him, Polly. I beg it of you as +a special favor. In the first place it was so +ridiculously little and in the second I think +it pretty hard on Anthony to have an +unfortunate accident like that raked up +against him now that he has accomplished +so much.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, all right,” Polly returned, thoughtfully +digging into the earth with the toe +of her pretty kid slipper. +</p> +<p> +“Good heavens, speaking of angels or +the other thing!” she exclaimed, a moment +later, “I do declare if that does not look +like Anthony Graham coming directly toward +us this instant. Do go and speak to +him first, dear, while I manage to scramble +out of this hammock.” +</p> +<p> +Ten minutes later Anthony was occupying +the chair lately vacated by Betty, +while Polly was once more in a reclining +position. Knowing that she was still +regarded as a semi-invalid, Anthony had +insisted that she must not disturb herself +on his account. He had explained that +the reason for his call was to find out how +she was feeling. So, soon after this statement, +Betty had left the two of them +together, giving as an excuse the fact +that as she had invited Anthony to stay +with them to tea she must go to the cabin +to help get things ready. +</p> +<p> +After Betty’s disappearance Polly did +not find her companion particularly interesting. +He scarcely said half a dozen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +words but sat staring moodily up toward +the dark branches of the enshadowing pine +trees. This at least afforded Polly a fine +opportunity for studying the young man’s +face. +</p> +<p> +“You have improved a lot, Anthony,” +she said finally. “Oh, I beg your pardon, +I am afraid I was thinking out loud.” +</p> +<p> +Her visitor smiled. “Well, so long as +your thoughts are complimentary I am +sure I don’t mind,” he returned. “Keep +it up, will you?” +</p> +<p> +The girl nodded. “There is nothing I +should like better. You know it is odd, +but the Princess and I were talking about +you just when you appeared. I must say +I am amazed at your prominence, Anthony. +I never dreamed you would ever amount +to so much. It was funny, but Betty used +always to have faith in you. I often wondered +why.” +</p> +<p> +This time her companion did not smile. +“I wish to heaven then that she had faith +in me now, or if not faith at least a little +of her old liking,” he answered almost +bitterly. “For the last year, for some +reason or other, Miss Betty has seemed to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +dislike me. She has avoided me at every +possible opportunity. And I have never +been able to find out whether I had +offended her or if she had merely grown +weary of my friendship. I have been so +troubled by it that I have made a confidant +of Miss Everett and asked her to help me +if she could. I thought perhaps if Betty—Miss +Betty, I mean—could see that Meg +Everett liked me and was willing to be my +intimate friend, that possibly she might +forgive me in time. But it has all been of +no use, she has simply grown colder and +colder. And I fear I only weary Miss +Everett in talking of Miss Betty so much +of the time. She recently told me that I +did.” +</p> +<p> +Polly’s lips trembled and her shoulders +shook. What a perfectly absurd creature +a male person was at all times and particularly +when under the influence of love! +</p> +<p> +The next moment the girl’s face had +strangely sobered. +</p> +<p> +“You are not worthy to tie her shoe-string, +you know, Anthony; but then I +never have seen any one whom I have +thought worthy of her. Most certainly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +neither Esther nor I approved of the +nobility as represented by young Count +Von Reuter.” +</p> +<p> +Aloud Polly continued this interesting +debate with herself, apparently not concerned +with whether or not her companion +understood her. +</p> +<p> +“Certainly I am unworthy to tie <i>any one’s</i> +shoe-string,” the young man murmured +finally, “but would you mind confiding in +me just whose shoe-string you mean?” +</p> +<p> +From under her dark lashes half resentfully +and half sympathetically the girl surveyed +the speaker. “You have a sense of +humor, Anthony, and that is something to +your credit,” she remarked judicially. +“Well, much as I really hate to say it, I +might as well tell you that I don’t think +the Princess dislikes you intensely, provided +you tell her just why you have been +so intimate with Meg for these past +months. No, I have nothing more to say. +Only I am going down to the lake for half +an hour to join Mollie and Billy Webster +and if you wait here you may have a +chance of speaking to Betty alone when she +comes to invite us in to tea.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +</p> +<p> +Then quietly Polly O’Neill strolled away +with every appearance of calmness, although +she was really feeling greatly perturbed +and distressed. Certainly something must +have worked a reformation in her character, +for although she positively hated the +idea of Betty Ashton’s marrying, had she +not just thrust her deliberately into the +arms of her fate. Yet, of course, her feeling +was a purely selfish one, since she had no +real fault to find with Anthony. So if +Betty loved him, he must have his chance. +</p> +<p> +Then with a smile and a sigh Polly once +more shrugged her shoulders, which is the +Irish method of acknowledging that fate is +too strong for the strongest of us. She +reached the edge of the lake and madly +signaled to Mollie and Billy to allow her +to enter their boat. They were at no +great distance off and yet were extremely +slow in approaching the shore. Evidently +they seemed to feel no enthusiasm for the +newcomer’s society at the present moment. +</p> +<p> +“I thought you were asleep, Polly,” +Mollie finally murmured in a reproachful +tone, while Billy Webster eyed his small +canoe rather doubtfully. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +</p> +<p> +“She won’t carry a very heavy load, +Miss Polly,” he remarked, drawing alongside. +Polly calmly climbed into the skiff, +taking her seat in the stern. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t sleep all the time, sister of +mine,” she protested, once she was comfortably +established, “much as I should +like to accommodate my family and friends +by the relief from my society. And as for +my being too heavy for your canoe, Billy +Webster, I don’t weigh nearly so much as +Mollie. So if you think both of us too +heavy, she might as well get out and +give me a chance. You have been around +this lake with her at least a dozen times +already this afternoon. Besides, I really +have to be allowed to remain somewhere.” +</p> +<p> +Plainly Mollie’s withdrawal from the +scene had no place in Billy’s calculations, +for without further argument he moved +out toward the middle of the pond. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span><a name='ch20' id='ch20'></a>CHAPTER XX—Two Engagements</h2> +<p> +Ten minutes more must have passed +before Betty decided to return to +her friends. Yet during her short +walk to the pine grove she was still oddly +shy and nervous and in a mood wholly +dissatisfied with herself. Why in the +world did she so often behave coldly to +Anthony Graham and with such an appearance +of complete unfriendliness? There +was nothing further from her own desire, +for certainly he had an entire right to have +transferred his affection to Meg! To +show either anger or pique was small and +unwomanly! +</p> +<p> +Never had there been definite understanding +between Anthony and herself. +Indeed she had always refused even to +listen to any serious expression of his +affection for her. Long ago there had +been a single evening after her return from +Germany, when together they had watched +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +the moon go down behind Sunrise Hill, an +evening which she had not been able to +forget. Yet she had only herself to blame +for the weakness, since if Anthony had +forgotten, no girl should cherish such a +memory alone. +</p> +<p> +Now here was an opportunity for proving +both her courage and pride. With the +thought of her old title of Princess, Betty’s +cheeks had flamed. How very far she had +always been from living up to its real +meaning. Yet she must hurry on and +cease this absurd and selfish fashion of +thinking of herself. A cloud had come +swiftly up out of the east and in a few +moments there would be a sudden July +downpour. Often a brief storm of wind +and rain closed an unusually warm day in +the New Hampshire hills. +</p> +<p> +Under no circumstances must Polly +suffer. Only a week before had Mrs. +Wharton been persuaded to leave Polly +in their charge when she and Mollie had +both promised to take every possible care +of her. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Betty began running so that +she arrived quite breathless at her destination. Her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> +face was flushed, and from +under the blue ribbon her hair had escaped +and was curling in red-brown tendrils over +her white forehead. Then at the entrance +to the group of pines, before she has even +become aware of Polly’s disappearance, +Anthony Graham had unexpectedly caught +hold of both her hands. +</p> +<p> +“Betty, you must listen to me,” he +demanded. “No, I can’t let you go until +I have spoken, for if I do you will find +some reason for escaping me altogether as +you have been doing these many months. +You must know I love you and that I +have cared for no one else since the hour +of our first meeting. Always I have +thought of you, always worked to be in +some small way worthy even of daring to +say I love you. Yet something has come +between us during this past year and it is +only fair that you should tell me what it +is. I do not expect you to love me, Betty, +but once you were my friend and I could +at least tell you my hopes and fears. Is +it that you are engaged to some one else +and take this way of letting me know?” +</p> +<p> +Still Anthony kept close hold of the girl’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +hands, and now after her first effort she +made no further attempt to draw herself +away. His eyes were fixed upon hers with +an expression that there was no mistaking, +yet something in the firm and resolute lines +about his mouth revealed the will responsible +for Anthony Graham’s success and +power. Quietly he now drew his companion +closer beneath the shelter of the +trees, for the first drops of rain were beginning +to fall. +</p> +<p> +“But I am still your friend, Anthony. +You are mistaken in thinking that anything +has come between us. As for my +being engaged to some one else that is +quite untrue. I only thought that you and +Meg were so intimate that you no longer +needed me.” For the first time Betty’s +voice faltered. +</p> +<p> +Anthony was saying in a tone she should +never forget even among the thousands of +incidents in their crowded lives, “I shall +always need and want you, Betty, to the +last instant of created time.” Then he +brought both her hands up to his lips +and kissed them. “Meg was only enduring +my friendship so that I might have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> +some one with whom I could talk about +you.” +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Anthony let go Betty’s hands +and stepped back a few paces away from +her. His face had lost the radiant look of a +brief moment before. +</p> +<p> +“Betty, a little while ago you told me that +you were still my friend and that no one +had come between us, and it made me very +happy. But I tell you honestly that I +do not think I can be happy with such an +answer for long. Two years ago, when you +and I together watched the moon over +Sunrise Hill, I dared not then say more +than I did, I had not enough to offer you. +But now things are different and it isn’t +your friendship I want! Ten thousand +times, no! It is your love! Do you think, +Betty, that you can ever learn to love me?” +</p> +<p> +Now Betty’s face was white and her +gray eyes were like deep wells of light. +</p> +<p> +“Learn to love you, Anthony? Why I +am not a school girl any longer and I +learned that lesson years and years ago.” +</p> +<p> +When the storm finally broke and the +thunder crashed between the heavy deluges +of rain neither Anthony nor Betty cared to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> +make for the nearby shelter of Sunrise +cabin. Instead they stood close together +laughing up at the sky and at the lovely +rain-swept world. Once Betty did remember +to inquire for the vanished Polly, but +Anthony assured her that Polly had joined +Mollie and Billy half an hour before and +that they would of course take the best +possible care of her. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless at this instant Polly O’Neill +was actually floundering desperately about +in the waters of Sunrise Lake while trying +to make her way to the side of their overturned +skiff. Billy Webster, with his arm +about Mollie, was swimming with her safely +toward shore. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be frightened, it is all right, +dear. I’ll look after Polly in a moment,” +he whispered encouragingly. +</p> +<p> +Returning a few moments later Billy discovered +his other companion, a very damp +and discomfited mermaid, seated somewhat +perilously upon the bottom of their wrecked +craft. +</p> +<p> +“I never knew such behavior in my life, +Billy Webster,” she began angrily, as soon +as she was able to get her wet hair out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +of her mouth. “The idea of your going +all the way into shore with Mollie and +leaving me to drown. You might at least +have seen that I got safe hold of your old +boat first.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I know; I am sorry,” Billy replied, +resting one hand on the side of his skiff +and so bringing his head up out of the +water in order to speak more distinctly. +“But you see, Polly, I knew you could +swim and Mollie is so easily frightened and +it all came so suddenly, the boat’s overturning +with that heavy gust of wind. To +tell you the truth, I didn’t even remember +you were aboard until Mollie began asking +for you. I wonder if you would mind +helping me get this skiff right side up. It +would be easier for us to paddle in than for +me to have to swim with you.” +</p> +<p> +Gasping, Polly slid off her perch. +</p> +<p> +“After that extra avalanche of cold +water nothing matters,” she remarked icily. +However, her companion did not even hear +her. +</p> +<p> +Safe on land again, Polly waited under a +tree while the young man pulled his boat +ashore. Her sister had gone ahead to send +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> +some one down with blankets and umbrellas. +In spite of the rain, damp clothes +and the shock of her recent experience, +Polly O’Neill was not conscious of feeling +particularly cold. +</p> +<p> +“I hope you are not very uncomfortable, +and that our accident won’t make you ill +again,” Billy Webster said a few moments +later as he joined her. “I suppose I do +owe you a little more explanation for having +ignored you so completely. But you +see, just about five minutes before you +insisted on getting into our boat Mollie had +promised to be my wife. We did not dare +talk very much after you came on board, +but you can understand that I simply +wasn’t able to think of any one else. You +see I have loved Mollie ever since that day +when we were children and she bound up +the wound you had made in my head.” +</p> +<p> +Once more Polly gasped slightly, and of +course she was beginning to feel somewhat +chilled. +</p> +<p> +Billy Webster looked at her severely. +“Oh, of course I did think I was in love +with you, Polly, for a year or so, I remember. +But that was simply because I had not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +then learned to understand Mollie’s true +character. I used to believe it would be +a fine thing to have a strong influence over +you and try to show you the way you +should go.” Here Billy laughed, and he +was very handsome with his damp hair +pushed back over his bronzed face and +his wet clothes showing the outline of +his splendid boyish figure, matured and +strengthened by his outdoor life. +</p> +<p> +“But you see, Polly, I believe nobody is +ever going to be able to influence you to +any great extent,” he continued teasingly, +“and at any rate you and I will never have +half the chances to quarrel that we would +have had if we had ever learned to like +each other. I forgive you everything now +for Mollie’s sake.” +</p> +<p> +For half a moment Polly hesitated, then, +holding out her hand, her blue eyes grew +gay and tender. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, Billy,” she said, “for Mollie’s +sake. If you make her as happy as I +think you will, why, I’ll also forget and +forgive you everything.” +</p> +<p> +Fortunately by the time Mrs. Martins and +Ann had arrived with every possible comfort for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> +invalid. And so Polly was +borne to the cabin in the midst of their +anxious inquiries and put to bed, where +neither her sister nor Betty were allowed +to see her during the evening. +</p> +<p> +If either of the girls suffered from the +deprivation of her society there was nothing +that gave any indication of unhappiness in +either of the two faces. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span><a name='ch21' id='ch21'></a>CHAPTER XXI—At the Turn of the Road</h2> +<table class='c' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>“By day, upon my golden hill</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Between the harbor and the sea,</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>I feel as if I well could fill</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>The world with golden melody.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>There is no limit to my view,</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>No limit to my soft content,</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Where sky and water’s fairy blue</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Merge to the eye’s bewilderment.”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p> +Polly read from the pages of a magazine, +and then pausing for a moment she again +repeated the verse aloud, giving each line +all the beauty and significance of which it +was capable. +</p> +<p> +She was walking alone along a path +beyond the grove of pine trees one Sunday +morning about ten days later. She wore +no hat and her dress was of plain white +muslin without even a ribbon belt for +decoration. She had a bunch of blue corn +flowers, which she had lately gathered, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> +pinned to her waist and was looking particularly +young and well. +</p> +<p> +Yet for the first time since her home +coming Polly had recently been feeling +somewhat lonely and neglected. There +was at present absolutely no counting on +Mollie for anything. Billy had always made +demands upon her time when they were +simply friends, but since their engagement +had been announced there was never an +entire afternoon or even morning when +Mollie was free. In answer to Polly’s +protests that she was only to be at home +during the summer and so would like to see +her only sister alone now and then, Billy had +explained that early August was the only +month in which he had any real leisure and +that he and Mollie must therefore make +plans for their future at once. Moreover, +as it was self-evident that her sister preferred +her fiancé’s society to her own, +Polly had been forced to let the matter +drop. +</p> +<p> +Then a week before, Betty had gone to +Boston to see Esther and her new nephew, +which was discouraging for her friend. +For as Anthony had been too busy to come +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +to the cabin except in the evenings, Polly +had the Princess to herself during the day +time. +</p> +<p> +She had promised Betty to stay on at the +cabin until her return, as the simple, outdoor +life seemed to be doing her so much +good; nevertheless, Polly had determined +to go into Woodford in the next few days +and persuade her mother to take her away +unless things at the cabin became more +interesting. She was now rested and +entirely well and more than anxious to get +back to her work again, since the friends +on whom she had depended were at present +too absorbed to give her much of their time +or thought. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Margaret Adams always told me +that ‘a career’ was a lonely kind of life,” +Polly thought to herself. “But oh, what +wouldn’t I give if Margaret should appear +at this moment at the turn of that road. +She must have had my letter on Friday +begging her to come and perhaps she had no +other engagement. It will be delightful, +too, if she brings Mr. Hunt along with her. +I told her to ask him, as Billy can make him +comfortable at the farm. I should like him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> +to see Sunrise cabin and the beautiful +country about here.” +</p> +<p> +Polly had finally come to the end of her +lane and beyond could see the road leading +out from the village. She was a little +weary, as she had not walked any distance +in several months until this morning. There +was a convenient seat under the shade of a +great elm tree that commanded a view of +the country and she had her magazine with +her and could hear the noise of an approaching +motor car or carriage, should Margaret +have decided to come. +</p> +<p> +Again Polly fell to memorizing the poem +she had been trying to learn during her +stroll. It was good practice to get back +into the habit of training her memory, and +the poem seemed oddly descriptive of her +present world. +</p> +<p> + “Tonight, upon my somber gaze<br /> + With gleam of silvered waters lit,<br /> + I feel as if I well could praise<br /> + The moon——”<br /> +</p> +<p> +Here Polly was interrupted by the sound +of a voice saying: +</p> +<p> +“My dear Miss Polly, I never dreamed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +of finding you so well. Why, if you only had +the famous torn hat and rake you would +pass for Maud Muller any day!” +</p> +<p> +With a cry of welcome Polly jumped to +her feet. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hunt, I am so glad to see you and +so surprised!” she exclaimed. “Please explain +how you managed, when I have been +watching for you and Margaret all morning, +to arrive without my knowing?” +</p> +<p> +“But we have not arrived, and I hope +you won’t be too greatly disappointed at +my coming alone. You see it is like this. +I happened to be calling on Miss Adams +when your note came and she told me +that I had been included in your invitation. +Well, it was impossible for Miss Adams to +spend this week end with you as she was +going off on a yachting party with some of +her rich admirers, so I decided to run down +and see you alone. It was not so remarkable +my coming upon you unawares, since I +walked out from the village. Please do +sit down again and tell me you are glad to +see me.” +</p> +<p> +Polly sat down as she was bid, and Richard +Hunt, dropping on the ground near +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +her, took off his hat, leaning his head on +his hand like a tired boy. +</p> +<p> +“Come, hurry, you haven’t said you +were glad yet, Miss Polly,” he protested. +</p> +<p> +Polly’s eyes searched the dark ones +turned half-teasingly and half-admiringly +toward her. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean, Mr. Hunt, that you +came all the way from New York to Woodford +just to see me?” she asked wonderingly. +“And that you came alone, without Margaret +or any one else?” +</p> +<p> +Her companion laughed, pushing back +the iron gray hair from his forehead, for his +long walk had been a warm one. +</p> +<p> +“I do assure you I haven’t a single +acquaintance concealed anywhere about +me,” he declared. “But just the same I +don’t see why you should feel so surprised. +Don’t you know that I would travel a +good many miles to spend an hour alone +with you, instead of a long and blissful +day. Of course I am almost old enough to +be your father——” +</p> +<p> +“You’re not,” Polly interrupted rather +irritably. Yet in spite of her protest she +was feeling curiously shy and self-conscious +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +and Polly was unaccustomed to either of +these two emotions. Then, just in order +to have something to do, she carelessly +drew the bunch of corn flowers from her +belt and held them close against her hot +cheeks. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Hunt,” she began after a moment +of awkward silence, “don’t think +I am rude, but please do not say things +to me like—” the girl hesitated—“like +that last thing; I mean your being willing +to travel many miles to spend an hour +alone with me. You have always been +so kind that I have thought of you as my +real friend, but of course if you begin to +be insincere and flatter me as you would +some one whom you did not honestly +like, I——” +</p> +<p> +Polly ceased talking at this instant because +Richard Hunt had risen quickly to +his feet and put forth his hand to assist +her. +</p> +<p> +“Let us go on to your cabin,” he replied +gravely. “You are right. I should not +have said a thing like that to you. But +you are wrong, Polly, in believing I was +insincere. You see, I grew to be pretty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +fond of you last winter and very proud, +seeing with what courage you fought your +battles alone.” Richard Hunt paused, +walking on a few paces in silence. “I +shall not worry you with the affection +of a man so much older than you are,” +he continued as though having at last +made up his mind to say all that was in +his heart and be through. “Only at all +times and under all circumstances, no +matter what happens, you are to remember, +Polly, that you are and always shall be +first with me.” +</p> +<p> +“I—you,” the girl faltered. “Why I +thought you cared for Margaret. I never +dreamed—” then somehow Polly, who had +always so much to say, could not even +finish her sentence. +</p> +<p> +“No, of course you never did,” the +man replied gravely. “Still, I want you +to know that Margaret and I have never +thought of being anything but the best +of friends. Now let us talk of something +else, only tell me first that you are not +angry and we will never speak of this +again.” +</p> +<p> +“No, I am not displeased,” Polly faltered, looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> +and feeling absurdly young +and inadequate to the importance of the +situation. +</p> +<p> +Then, walking on and keeping step with +her companion, suddenly a new world +seemed to have spread itself before her +eyes. Shyly she stole a glance at her tall +companion, and then laid her hand coaxingly +on his coat sleeve. +</p> +<p> +“Will you please stop a minute. I want +to explain something to you,” she asked. +Polly’s expression was intensely serious; +she had never been more in earnest; all +the color seemed to have gone from her +face so as to leave her eyes the more +deeply blue. +</p> +<p> +“You see, Mr. Hunt, I never, never +intend marrying any one. I mean to devote +all my life to my profession and I +have never thought of anything else since +I was a little girl.” +</p> +<p> +Gravely Richard Hunt nodded. Not +for an instant did his face betray any +doubt of Polly’s decision in regard to her +future. Then Polly laughed and her eyes +changed from their former seriousness to +a look of the gayest and most charming +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +camaraderie. “Still, Mr. Hunt, if you +really did mean what you said just now, +why I don’t believe I shall mind if we +do speak of it some day again. Of course +I am not in love with you, but——” +</p> +<p> +Richard Hunt slipped the girl’s arm +inside his. There was something in his +face that gave Polly a sense of strength +and quiet such as she had never felt in +all her restless, ambitious girlhood. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I understand,” he answered. “But +look there, Polly, isn’t that Sunrise Hill +over there and your beloved little cabin +in the distance? And aren’t we glad +to be alive in this wonderful world?” +</p> +<p> +The girl’s voice was like a song. “I +never knew what it meant to be really +alive until this minute,” she whispered. +</p> +<p> +The sixth volume of the Camp Fire Girls +Series will be known as “The Camp Fire +Girls in After Years.” In this story the +girls will appear as wives and mothers. +Also it will reveal the fact that romance +does not end with marriage, and that in +many cases a woman’s life story is only +beginning upon her wedding day. There will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +be new characters, a new plot and new love +interests as well, but in the main the theme +will follow the fortunes of the same group +of girls who years ago formed a Camp Fire +club and lived, worked and loved under the +shadow of Sunrise Hill. +</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Camp Fire Girls' Careers, by +Margaret Vandercook + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS' CAREERS *** + +***** This file should be named 36229-h.htm or 36229-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/2/2/36229/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Larry B. 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