The Camp Fire Girls' Careers Part 6

d.i.c.k turned to go, but came back almost immediately.

"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--"

Positively Esther could feel herself turning pale with horror at her husband's remark, but fortunately she had the good sense to laugh.

"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 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."

"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.

d.i.c.k had been taken into partnership with an older physician and his office was several blocks away.

At his departure Esther breathed a sigh 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.

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:

"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 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."

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.

CHAPTER X-More Puzzles

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.

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 it worth while, nor did the gayety sound altogether sincere.

Betty's merely said:

"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."

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.

"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.

Mollie looked at her admiringly. Betty had not seemed altogether as she used to 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.

"But why should Polly warn you against rashness under any circ.u.mstances?" 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."

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.

"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 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."

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.

Nearly breathless with excitement Mollie immediately dropped them all into her friend's lap.

"See what a belle you are, Betty Ashton!" she exclaimed. "Here you are almost a stranger in Boston and yet being showered with attentions."

Gravely Betty read aloud the address on the first box.

"Miss Mollie O'Neill, care of Dr. Richard Ashton," she announced, extending the 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.

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.

"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 embarra.s.sed 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."

Mollie's second gift was a bunch of red 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."

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.

"Gracious, it must be true that John is making a fortune in his broker shop in Wall Street, as Meg a.s.sures 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."

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."

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, 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.

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 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 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.

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 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!

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.

"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 was as pretty or perhaps as sweet as Mollie."

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.

Without a doubt Esther's and d.i.c.k's first formal dinner party was a p.r.o.nounced 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.

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 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.

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 gla.s.s 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.