The Camp Fire Girls by the Blue Lagoon

"Mother," Bettina said softly when the curtain had fallen, "don't you think Tante makes the parting between herself and her lover too tragic? It seems to me perfectly natural and there is no special reason for being unhappy, yet just because of her gift for expressing emotion she seems the most pathetic figure in the world as he goes away and leaves her."

Mrs. Graham smiled and shook her head, but made no effort to conceal the tears in her eyes.

"Perhaps you are right, Bettina, I don't know. Polly did not believe you Camp Fire girls would care for her play. It begins in a more sentimental age than the present one. Fifteen years elapse, remember, between the first and the second act. Perhaps the modern girl would not regard the separation from her lover so seriously; she has more interests, more occupations, and sometimes I wonder if love may not mean less to her; I am not sure.

"The girl whom Polly portrays is left utterly alone, save for the old woman, who, we have learned, is harsh and querulous. She has only her dream and her affection."

Talking to Bettina alone, Mrs. Graham discovered that, as the applause died away, the other members of the box party were listening to her little speech.

"I agree with Bettina," Alice Ashton interposed.

"See here, Mrs. Graham, if you believe in sentiment don't look for it among girls these days," Robert Burton protested. "If you want to know the kind of impression that parting scene of Mrs. Burton's inspires, ask any one of the three fellows in your party to-night. If I cared for a girl and was compelled to leave her for an indefinite length of time, I tell you I should expect her to feel as the heroine does in this play. If she didn't feel that way, I would not believe in her love."

Mrs. Graham arose.

"I'll leave you to argue the point without me. I want to speak to Mrs. Burton for a few moments and she asked that no one else come behind the scenes until the performance is over."

Immediately David Hale slipped into the chair beside Bettina, while Robert Burton moved forward to talk with Sally Ashton who seemed apart from the others. Allan Drain joined Alice and Vera.

"It cannot be possible, Bettina, that you are not returning to Washington to spend the winter," David Hale remarked in a low tone of voice. "Your mother spoke of it to me and then said perhaps you would explain to me yourself."

Bettina flushed, as the subject was not an altogether happy one and she was a little annoyed at its introduction at this instant.

"Why no, I believe not, anyhow not for some time. A group of the Sunrise Camp Fire girls has taken a little apartment together in New York and we are planning to work and study here. We are not to be with our Camp Fire guardian. In fact we are not even to have a chaperon with us permanently. You remember Miss Patricia Lord; one is not apt to forget Miss Patricia. She has a house near Boston and is to appear now and then to see how we are getting on. Alice Ashton and Sally, and Vera Lagerloff made the plan for the winter originally and are allowing my little English Camp Fire girl and me to join them. I am to do some studying, but what I shall like much more, I am to work in one of the settlement houses on the East Side. I shall try to organize new Camp Fire clubs, as I don't believe there are many of them in that neighborhood."

David Hale stared at his companion incredulously.

"You cannot mean you prefer a winter of this kind to making your début in Washington, where you would be invited everywhere! I don't suppose it occurs to you, or that it makes any difference, but I am bitterly disappointed?"

"Oh, you will have mother and Marguerite Arnot who will more than compensate for my absence. You know I long have hated the prospect of having to come out in society. I am too serious, I suppose, although I realize this is not an attractive trait of character. But, David Hale, do you recall how much you used to talk to me of your ambitions for the future in the days we knew each other in France? Well, I don't see why I am not allowed an ambition of my own even if I am not gifted. I have always been more interested in the Camp Fire organization than the other Sunrise Camp Fire girls. Now I see an opportunity to enlarge its influence along with other work I am undertaking. Mother did not approve at first, but she is an angel and has finally agreed. You see she was once upon a time a Camp Fire girl herself."

At Bettina's indifference to his point of view David frowned.

"Well, your mother is right; the new girl is hard to understand, even if one happens to belong to her generation; that is, hard for a fellow like me! I-"

Bettina was not paying a great deal of attention. In the alcove at the front of the box Sally Ashton and Robert Burton were laughing and talking together, Sally wearing her usual demure expression which could change to sudden gaiety. Evidently her companion admired her.

Her mother's return to her place and David Hale's vacating it, distracted Bettina's attention; moreover, the bell was ringing to announce the second act of the drama.

Fifteen years have gone by, but now for the first time the traveler, who had departed as a boy, is returning to the Irish village high up among the lakes and hills.

The report has come back that he has become wealthy and the village is preparing to welcome him. Hovering on the outskirts of the crowd one discovers the girl, no longer young, with whom he had parted many years before. She has not heard from him in a decade. Still she is interested and anxious to know if he will remember her, or if by any chance he may still care a little. She never has forgotten. Some misunderstanding may have divided them, which a few words, a touching of the hands, a meeting of the eyes may explain.

The hero returns. He has forgotten and even fails to recognize the girl who represented his youthful romance, is shocked by the change in her when she recalls herself to his memory.

At the close of the act she goes back to the little cabin and the lake and the green hillside, where she has lived alone these ten years, the old aunt having died.

The pathos of the years of waiting has departed. The meeting in the village has ended an old illusion.

In the third and last act the heroine has established herself in a picturesque little house in the town, where she has gathered about her many friends. She is witty and gay, her clothes are pretty and fashionable. In the lonely years she has read a great deal and has interested herself in politics. The friends and admirers she might have had, save for her faithfulness to a memory, are discovered around her, among them the man, who so easily had forgotten his plighted word. In the end he proposes a second time and is refused.

"Love has no value without faith and I have no faith in you;" with this line the drama closes.

"The play is delightful and Polly reveals all her gifts of laughter and tears, nevertheless it leaves one dissatisfied," Mrs. Graham insisted, as she allowed Allan Drain to help her with her coat. "Allan, in your new play give us a happier ending."

"My dear mother, what a sentimentalist you are! I could not imagine a more delicious climax. My sex is avenged!" Bettina replied. "Come, let us go back behind the scenes and offer our congratulations!"

CHAPTER VII

THE APARTMENT

The sitting-room was scrupulously clean. The Camp Fire candles, representing work, health and love were on the mantel, but unlighted; a small fire was burning in the grate.

At one side stood a tea table with the arrangements for tea-cups and saucers, the tea kettle and alcohol lamp. At the moment the room was empty.

Then a door swung open and a girl entered wearing a ceremonial Camp Fire costume, her strings of honor beads and insignia of the highest rank, but over her dress a blue apron which came up to her throat and down to her ankles.

Her hair was carefully arranged, parted at one side and drawn smoothly down, yet little tendrils of brown hair had escaped and her face was warmly Hushed.

Seating herself in a low chair she extended her feet toward the small blaze.

"The girls are late this afternoon, just because there was a particular reason why they should be early," she remarked in a maternal tone of voice, a little absurd in view of her appearance.

During the past few months Sally Ashton had been presiding over the small apartment in New York which sheltered a group of the Sunrise Camp Fire girls.

Getting up, she now walked over toward the window. In the distance one could catch a glimpse of the Columbia College buildings and in another direction the dome of the great, unfinished Cathedral. The winter afternoon was clear and cold.

Returning to her former place, after a glance at the clock, Sally drew a letter from the pocket of her blouse and began reading it. This must have been a second or third reading since the envelope had disappeared.

Nevertheless, the letter plainly occasioned her no happiness, for she frowned, bit her lips and looked as if only a severe determination against any display of weakness saved her from tears.

"I have not heard from Dan Webster in a month. Now he has written me exactly one page which says nothing at all except that he is so busy and so tired at the end of each day that any letter he could write would only bore me. He is kind enough to hope we may meet in the spring in the 'House by the Blue Lagoon.' And this when I was foolish enough to think that Dan actually cared for me when we were together last winter!"

"I do wish I were not one of the persons who cares for only a few people! No one understands, or believes this of me, save Tante, and she is too busy this winter to be disturbed by Camp Fire confidences, even though she remains our guardian. I wonder if she will be here this afternoon? As for Dan, I suppose I must stop thinking of him in spite of the fact that we are such old friends."

There was a little sound of a key scraping in a lock. Thrusting her letter inside her pocket, Sally arose hastily.

"Sally, are we first to return home?" Bettina Graham's voice inquired. "I was delayed at the Neighborhood House a quarter of an hour longer than usual. Then I had to make a special effort to persuade the children to allow Elce to come with me. We had been having a lecture on birds and she attempting to reproduce certain of the bird sounds and to teach them to the other children. I wish you had been with us. You have not been lonely?" Bettina observed an unaccustomed expression on the other girl's face.

As if slightly annoyed by the suggestion, Sally shook her head.

"No, certainly not; I am never lonely, I have had everything arranged for our Camp Fire meeting and for tea afterwards for so long that I am tired waiting."

"Very well, Elce and I will change into our Camp Fire costumes and be with you in a few moments. I am surprised Vera and Alice are so late! I hoped Tante and Juliet Temple would have arrived. By the way, Sally, what do you think of admitting Juliet into our Sunrise Camp Fire? We have known her so many months that I am convinced she and Tante must both expect it, although they have not said so definitely. If we have an opportunity before they arrive, suppose we discuss the question."

Bettina Graham's conversation had been continued from inside her own bedroom, with the door opening into the sitting-room which adjoined it. In fact the six-room apartment the Sunrise Camp Fire girls were sharing for the winter, was so built that the three bedrooms and kitchen opened into a single large room. This served as their dining-room, sitting-room and reception room. A small room, apart from the others, Miss Patricia Lord's room, could be used as a study the greater portion of the time, since Miss Patricia was rarely in New York.

Only twice in the last few months had she appeared unexpectedly. Confessing herself as satisfied with the life the girls were leading and the work they were accomplishing, almost immediately she had returned to her home near Boston, never at any time mentioning Mrs. Burton's name, even to make an inquiry concerning her health.

The little apartment was comfortable. There were no signs of the wealth and luxury with which in the past, during the periods when their guardian was with them, Miss Patricia had surrounded the Sunrise Camp Fire. This, Miss Patricia explained, was due to two reasons. The erection of a home for French war orphans in one of the devastated regions of France was absorbing more of her capital than she had anticipated; moreover, she wished the girls to live simply and to resist the temptation of the worldliness of the city she professed to abhor.

The front door of the little apartment now opened a second time. Carrying several books under her arm and a package in her hand, Vera entered.

"Sorry to have been delayed, Sally, but I had to go several places before I could find the kind of cake you said you wished for tea. I wanted to help you get things ready; you seem to do so much more work these days than the rest of us in spite of our classes and Bettina's social settlement."

"You are not the last, Vera. Where is Alice? I thought you would come home together."

Vera smiled; there was a unique quality in her appearance which made her interesting always, even if she were handsome to only a few persons. In her large eyes with their heavy lashes, her wide mouth and irregular nose there was a charm of character and intelligence more marked than conventional beauty.

"Alice and I said farewell half an hour ago and she was to hurry home. I saw her stop to speak to her cousin, Philip Stead, for a moment and I suppose they have not been able to separate. Dear me, I hoped that Alice and I were to remain eternal friends without masculine interference, but these last few weeks Alice is failing me! She insists that she is only friendly with Philip Stead because he is her cousin and a stranger in New York, and lonely."

"Never mind, Vera, you may have me to take Alice's place. I shall never desert you. I am through with all masculine friendships forever, besides their being through with me!" Sally Ashton returned, thinking of the letter she had just finished re-reading. At the same time she extended her hand for the package.

"Thanks for the cake, but I did find time to make the kind Tante specially likes! However, we will manage to get through with both. You girls are becoming so learned as college students that I try to cling to the few useful feminine arts which represent my only talents."

"And the greatest of us is Sally!" Bettina Graham exclaimed, coming into the sitting-room, clad in her Camp Fire costume. "There is Alice at the door. Suppose we light our candles and begin our Camp Fire meeting, while she slips into her Camp Fire dress. Tante told us not to await her arrival. She is too uncertain of coming. And besides I hope we may have an opportunity to discuss the addition of Juliet Temple to our Sunrise Camp Fire club. We have had this in mind for some time. Is it our duty to add to our old group now so many of the original group have vanished? Juliet Temple has lived in the same house with us and is at present living with our Camp Fire guardian, so she seems the most natural person to invite."

A few moments later, when the business had been disposed of, Alice Ashton, continuing the subject Bettina had introduced, said slowly, with the seriousness characteristic of her:

"I feel as you girls do about Juliet Temple. I never have really liked her, although it would be difficult to say why. Perhaps it is because she has been so reticent about her past history and revealed so little interest in us. I feel that she does not especially desire to become a member of our Sunrise Camp Fire. She only wishes it because Tante wishes it and is our guardian. Possibly you girls may not agree with me, but now and then I have been afraid that my own distrust is largely jealousy. Juliet seems to have been able to make herself useful to Tante in ways none of us has succeeded in doing. Of late she depends upon her for a great variety of things."

Sally Ashton smiled.

"Good old Alice, of course we realize that we are jealous of Juliet Temple! Are you actually only beginning to be conscious of the fact? Now I for one am in favor of asking her to become one of our Camp Fire girls for certain reasons I do not care to divulge at present. As I am more candid than the rest of you, besides having a less agreeable disposition, I want to say frankly that I shall be glad when for any cause Juliet and Tante separate. Aunt Patricia has always disliked her and believes she has interfered with their devoted relation. I think she remains one of the reasons why Aunt Patricia refuses to be even friendly with Tante, when she is eating her heart out with loneliness and hurt pride. But goodness, there is the door bell and doubtless Juliet is outside! A reflection on our Camp Fire to be caught gossiping! Now if Tante suggests our inviting Juliet Temple to join our Sunrise Camp Fire group, and if Juliet wishes it and can pass the requisite tests, I see no reason we can offer for not including her. For a good many reasons I think it may be wiser to learn to know her better. Please put fresh wood on the fire, I'll open the door."

The following moment the Camp Fire guardian entered the room, followed by Sally Ashton, Juliet Temple and a third girl.

CHAPTER VIII

THE ENIGMA

Half an hour after, seated at the tea table, Sally Ashton was presiding over the serving of tea. She had agreed to relieve the Sunrise Camp Fire guardian of the responsibility in order that she might be able to talk more freely.

A few feet away, surrounded by the other girls, Mrs. Burton was occasionally drinking her tea, but more frequently answering or asking questions. Her custom was to devote one afternoon each week to the ceremonial meeting of the Sunrise Camp Fire. Now and then her visits were interrupted and until to-day she had not been present in several weeks at one of the councils.

Dressed in exquisite taste in olive green, trimmed in an odd, oriental embroidery of green and gold, her dark hair simply dressed, her health entirely restored, the Camp Fire guardian appeared not more than ten years older than the oldest of her group of girls.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that you came directly to us, Gill, without even waiting to telegraph," she was saying at this instant, speaking to the third girl who had entered the little apartment with her only a short time before. She was in deep mourning.

"You will stay on here with us at least until you can make some arrangement you like better," Bettina Graham added, slipping her hand inside her companion's and looking at her with an expression of sympathy and affection.

For the first time in their acquaintance Mary Gilchrist's eyes filled with tears.

"I knew no one else would be so kind, or give me such help, so, as soon after my father's death as I could arrange my affairs I started east. But I did write and gave the letter to one of the men on the place to mail. We are several miles from a post-office and I wanted it to go at once. He must have forgotten, so the letter will probably arrive later.

"I have scarcely any relatives. My father left the farm in Kansas to me. Some day I shall go back and try to become a successful farmer, but when that time arrives I hope to take all the Sunrise Camp Fire home with me. At present I felt that I could not live on in the big empty house alone, so I left one of our men in charge and came to you. I know I failed to live up to the ideals of our Camp Fire when we were together last winter at Half Moon Lake, yet I believe you realize I shall try not to fail again."

"My dear Gill," Sally announced from her place of honor at the tea table, "you have always taken the attitude that no one of us ever committed a fault in our Camp Fire life together until you failed to confess last winter to Allan Drain that accidentally you had thrown away the manuscripts of his poems. You did confess finally so why not forget the whole occurrence! Certainly you are to live here with us this winter and occupy the room with me; Vera and Alice are together and Bettina and Elce, so I have been alone. Tante is so occupied with her work you will be less lonely with us and Miss Patricia I know will be delighted."

"Nevertheless, Sally, don't you think Gill had best be with me for a few weeks, or a few months, until she has rested?" the Camp Fire guardian protested glancing at the girl in whom the past few months had wrought such changes.

Gill's former air of almost boyish strength and vigor had vanished. Her cheeks were sunken, her eyes had lost their gaiety, even the characteristic light sprinkling of freckles, due to her constant outdoor life, were gone.

Many weeks Mary Gilchrist had nursed her father with a completeness of devotion that had left no opportunity for an hour away from him.

"No, certainly not, Tante; Gill will be a great deal better off here with us. I am sure she would be lonely with you; you are so busy these days and have so many strange people calling on you. There would be no one with whom Gill could talk, or who would look after her as I shall. I believe she needs being taken care of for a time."

Mrs. Burton glanced toward Sally, frowning.

"You forget, Sally, Juliet Temple lives with me, and Gill would not have to be alone when I cannot be with her. Juliet takes wonderfully good care of me and I am sure would enjoy transferring her services to some one who has a better right to them. I am afraid I am growing lazy with Juliet looking after my business affairs, writing my notes and seeing that I am punctual for my engagements. In spite of my being a Camp Fire guardian and struggling to conquer all my faults of character in order to be a proper example to you girls, I am afraid punctuality remains an effort. But Gill of course must do what she likes. I only wish her to realize I want to have her, if she chooses to be with Juliet and me. Juliet is not a member of the Sunrise Camp Fire, but may be some day."

The grating of a key in the front door lock prevented further conversation at the moment.

Sally arose from the tea table.

"I wonder who that can be? No one has a key to our apartment except our own family and no one is away from home!"

The instant later a familiar step was heard in the hall and then a tall, spare figure entered the sitting-room.

"Aunt Patricia Lord, who dreamed you were in New York and how glad we are to see you! Come and sit down and let me give you your tea at once, I know it is tea you always wish after a journey!" Sally exclaimed, putting her arms about the elderly spinster and embracing her.

"Sure and I do, my dear," Miss Patricia agreed, relaxing into a mild Irish brogue, which with her was always a sign of especial satisfaction. "And glad I am to arrive at a Camp Fire meeting. Perhaps it was my duty to have let you know of my coming, but of a sudden I grew so lonely I could not wait to see what mischief you were up to at present. If my little room is occupied I'll go to a hotel to-night and come to see you to-morrow."

Her usual sternness relaxed, Miss Patricia looked from one member of the little group to the other. Suddenly her face stiffened and hardened.

The Camp Fire guardian had risen and was moving toward her with both hands outstretched in a lovely, pleading gesture.

"Dear Aunt Patricia, surely you will speak to me? What have I done to offend you so deeply? Do you realize that you have not replied to one of my letters or allowed me to see you since we parted at Half Moon Lake?"

"I realize it perfectly, Polly, and I refuse to speak to no one. How do you do. You may give my love to your husband. Sally, if it is not too much trouble I prefer to go to my room and have my tea there. Gill, is that you? Come and kiss me, I was sorry to hear of your loss."

Miss Patricia was turning away when the Camp Fire guardian spoke a second time.

"Don't go, Aunt Patricia, on my account. I will leave at once. Our Camp Fire meeting is over and the girls will wish to talk with you. I wonder if you know how it hurts me for you to be unwilling to remain in the same room with me? Once I thought you cared for me-a little."

Without replying the gaunt figure moved away, Sally following her.

Bettina Graham put her arm about the younger woman.

"You are not to go, Tante, we will not allow it. Aunt Patricia is too absurd and unkind! It would be difficult to forgive her, if one did not appreciate that she is suffering more than any one else. Besides, you promised to recite for us before you left."