The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World Part 7

The moment that she left her dressing room Polly ran directly into Esther, who was hurrying toward her.

"Oh, Polly dear," she said, "I hope you haven't been worried, though I have been uneasy enough about you. Do come back into your room for a moment. There is something I want to tell you that no one else must hear."

Esther looked so excited and nervous that Polly slipped an arm comfortingly about her. "Don't mind if anybody has said anything rude or been horrid, please," she whispered. "You know we promised each other not to take the disagreeable things seriously."

"Oh no, it is nothing like that. It is about you," the older girl explained.

Polly smiled. "The disagreeable things usually are about me." She looked so absurdly young and wilful and charming that Esther felt herself suddenly willing to champion her cause against any opposition.

Of course Polly had done wrong, but the mistake had been made and to frustrate her ambition now could do no possible good.

"I don't think you understand, Polly; you can't of course. But Billy Webster was in the audience just now and recognized you. He says that Mollie was afraid there was something the matter and----"

"Billy Webster's opinions are not of the least interest to me. Do let's hurry home, Esther. It is almost ten o'clock and though we can take the street car straight to your door, we have never been out this late before."

"But Billy says he _must_ see you. He is waiting outside. He says he means to tell your mother and Mollie what you are doing unless you promise to return home tomorrow. He says that if you won't promise he may telegraph them tonight, so your mother can come and get you tomorrow. I think you had better see him."

Suddenly Polly flung her arms about her friend's neck and began crying like a disappointed child. One never could count on Polly's doing what might be expected of her. She had had the boldness of defy opposition and to act successfully for a week on the professional stage; yet now when she most needed her nerve she was breaking down completely.

"I always have hated that Billy Webster," she sobbed, "from the first moment I saw him. What possible reason or right can he have to come spying on me in this fashion? If he tells mother what I am doing now and does not give me a chance to confess, she will never forgive me.

Neither will Mollie nor Betty nor any of the people I care about. Rose and Miss McMurtry will never speak to me. I shall be turned out of our Camp Fire Club. Of course I know I deserve it. But that Billy Webster should be the person to bring about my punishment is too much!

Besides, I can't give up my part now. Surely, Esther, you can see that. Acting a week longer won't hurt me any more and----"

"I think we had better see Mr. Webster, anyhow, dear," Esther insisted quietly. "Perhaps we can persuade him not to tell, or else to give you the first opportunity."

Hastily Polly dried her eyes. She looked very white and frail as they went out of the room together.

In a secluded corner not far from the stage door they found Billy Webster waiting for them. His face was pale under his country tan.

His blue eyes, that sometimes were charmingly humorous, showed no sign of humor now. If ever there was so youthful a figure of a stern and upright judge, he might well have stood for the model.

Polly struggled bravely to maintain her dignity.

"What is your decision, Miss O'Neill?" he inquired, without wasting any time by an enforced greeting. "I presume Miss Crippen has told you what I have made up my mind to do."

Amiability was one of Esther's dominant traits of character; yet she would have liked to shake Billy Webster until his teeth chattered or suppress him in almost any way. After all, what right had he to take this lofty tone with Polly? He was not a member of her family, not even her friend. Just because he had known all of them in their Camp Fire days in the woods and was devoted to Mrs. Wharton and to Mollie was not a sufficient excuse.

Therefore Polly's unexpected meekness of manner and tone was the more surprising--and dangerous.

"How did you happen to come to New York and to the theater, Billy?" she queried, ignoring his use of the "Miss." Frequently in times past they had called each other by their first names, when good feeling happened to be existing between them.

Instantly Billy looked a little more on the defensive. "I--I had to come to New York on business," he explained sullenly. "And Mollie had been telling me that she was kind of uneasy about you and that she felt there must be some reason you wouldn't give why you did not wish to come home for the holidays."

"So you undertook to play detective and find out?" Polly announced in the cool, even tones that made Billy hot with anger and a sense of injustice.

He was perfectly sure that he was right in his att.i.tude toward her.

She had been disobedient and audacious beyond his wildest conception, even of her. And yet she had a skilful fashion of making the other fellow appear in the wrong.

"I told Mollie that I would call on you and Esther," he returned, relapsing into his old-time familiarity. "You see, I told her that I was sure things were quite all right, but I wanted to convince her too.

I didn't think you would mind seeing me. I thought you might even be glad to hear about your Woodford friends. So as Mollie gave me your address, I went out to your house at about eight o'clock. The maid told me that you had gone to the theater, told me which one. Of course I just supposed that you had gone to see a show. And that was pretty bad for two young girls! But when I got here and the curtain went up and you came out!--why, Polly, I just couldn't believe it at first, and then I got to thinking of how your mother and Mollie would feel and what might happen!" And Billy's voice shook in a very human and attractive fashion.

Instantly Polly's hand was laid coaxingly on the young man's coat sleeve. "But, Billy, seeing as now I have been and gone and done it already, why, think of me in any way that you please. Only don't tell on me for another week. The play is to last only through the holidays.

And I promise on my word of honor to come home as soon as it is over and to tell mother every single thing."

"Word of honor?" Billy repeated slightingly. And of course, though Polly deserved her punishment his inflection was both rude and cruel.

Up to this moment the little party of three persons had been entirely uninterrupted. Now Esther heard some one coming quickly toward them.

And turning instantly she understood the impression that this scene might make. The man was the leading actor of the company, Richard Hunt, who in a quiet way had shown an interest and an att.i.tude of protection toward Polly. Now observing a strange young man, and Polly's evident agitation, it was but natural that he should suppose that some one was trying to annoy her.

Esther flung herself into the breach. Not for anything must a scene be permitted to take place! And she could guess at Billy Webster's scornful disregard of a man who was an actor. Billy was a country fellow with little experience of life, and broad-mindedness was not a conspicuous trait of his character.

Esther never knew just exactly how she managed it, but in another moment she had confided the entire story of Polly's audacity to Mr.

Hunt, Billy Webster's place in it, and his present intention of bringing retribution upon them. She knew there was but little time for her story; for Mr. Hunt might be compelled to leave them on receiving his curtain call at any moment. In a very surprising and good-humored fashion however he seemed to understand the situation at once.

"I had an idea that Miss O'Neill was new to this business," he said; "or you would both have realized that it is not wise for a girl so young as she is to come to the theater without her mother or some much older woman to look after her. But I believe I can appreciate everybody's point of view in this matter. So why wouldn't it be well to have Miss O'Neill telegraph her mother herself and ask that she come down to New York tomorrow. She could say there was nothing serious, so as not to frighten her. And then of course they could talk things over together and decide what was best without any interference."

But before any answer could follow his suggestion a bell sounded and the older man was obliged to hurry away.

Esther breathed a sigh of relief.

"Dear me, why had not one of us thought of this way out?" she asked.

"Surely, Billy, you can't object to allowing Mrs. Wharton to be the judge in this matter?"

Billy nodded. "Of course that is the best plan."

"And you, Polly?"

Polly had begun to cry again. "I want to see my mother right this minute," she confessed. And then, slipping out of the stage door, she left Esther and Billy to follow immediately after her and in silence to escort her safely home.

CHAPTER XI

SUNRISE CABIN AGAIN

It was New Year's night. Sunrise Cabin was no longer an empty and deserted place, but golden lights shone through the windows, making a circle of brightness outside the door.

From the inside came the sound of voices and laughter and music and the clatter of dishes.

Slowly a figure approached the door. It was after seven o'clock and a sharply cold evening with a heavy snow on the ground, so there could be small comfort in loitering. Yet when the figure reached its evident destination, instead of knocking or making an effort to enter, it hesitated, stopped, turned and walked away for a few steps and then came back again. The second time, however, summoning a sudden courage, the arm shot forth, and there was a single rap on the door. The rap was so imperative that in spite of the rival noises inside, the door opened quickly. Then the newcomer entered and for another moment stood hesitating in even greater bewilderment.

The great room seemed to be twinkling with a hundred bayberry candles, sending forth a delicious woodland fragrance. The walls were covered with pine branches and the big fireplace was piled as high with burning f.a.gots and pine cones as safety permitted. A long table standing in the center of the room was beautifully and yet oddly decorated, and upon it dinner was just about to be served.

Resting in the middle of its uncovered surface were three short and slender pine logs of the same general height and size and crossed at the top, while swinging from this trident was a brightly polished copper kettle, piled high tonight with every kind of fruit and with giant cl.u.s.ters of white and purple grapes suspended over its sides.

Encircling the centerpiece, made not of real wood of course but of paper bonbons, were three groups of logs representing the insignia of the three orders of the Camp Fire, the wood-gatherer's logs having no flame, the fire-maker's a small one, while the torch-bearer's flame of twisted colored paper seemed to glow as though it were in truth of fire. The mats on the table were embroidered in various Camp Fire emblems--a bundle of seven f.a.gots, a single pine tree, or a disk representing the sun. And at either end of the long table three candles had lately been lighted, while standing up around it at their appointed places were about twenty guests, the girls dressed in their ceremonial costumes, the young men as Boy Scouts.

The effect of the entire scene was so brilliant and so unusual that there was small wonder that the latest comer was overwhelmed. He fumbled awkwardly with his hat, cleared his throat, his face so crimsoning with embarra.s.sment that actual tears were forced out of his eyes. And then just as the young man was praying that the earth might open and swallow him up, a girl came forward from the indeterminate ma.s.s of persons, who appeared to be swimming in a mist before him, and held out her hand.

"I am so glad to see you, Mr. Graham. Nan and I were beginning to be afraid you would not be able to come," she said cordially. "But you are just in time, as we are only sitting down to the table this very minute."