The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World Part 8

And Meg Everett then led her final guest down what seemed to him a mile's length of table, placing him between two persons, whom at the moment he did not suppose that he had ever seen. And before he could quite recover his senses there was an unexpected burst of music and then a cheer that filled every inch of the cabin s.p.a.ce.

"Wo-he-lo for aye, Wo-he-lo for aye, Wo-he-lo, Wo-he-lo, Wo-he-lo for aye! Wo-he-lo for work, Wo-he-lo for health, Wo-he-lo, Wo-he-lo, Wo-he-lo for Love."

And then with laughter Meg Everett's New Year dinner guests took their places at the table and in the pause Anthony Graham had a chance to pull himself together. To his relief he found that Miss McMurtry was seated on his left side, and at least they were acquaintances. For Miss McMurtry had also come to live in the old Ashton house and often pa.s.sed the young man on the stairs, nodding good-night or good-morning.

Then he had put up some book-shelves for her in her room and moved the furniture to her satisfaction. So, perhaps the Camp Fire party might not be so wretchedly uncomfortable with one person near with whom he might exchange an occasional word.

For just what the young man's emotions were this evening, no one except a person placed in a similar position could understand. Perfectly well did he appreciate that Meg had asked him to her dinner only because of her loyalty and affection for his sister, Nan, as a member of her same Camp Fire Club. The brothers of the other girls had been invited, Jim Meade, Frank Wharton and, of course, John Everett, besides others of his friends. So to have left him out might have been to hurt Nan's feelings. His sister was both proud and sensitive over his efforts to make a better position for himself in the village. Yet should he have taken advantage of Meg's kindness and accepted her invitation? Anthony was by no means certain. This same question had been keeping him awake for several nights and even after having written his hostess that she might expect him to appear he had delayed his approach until the last minute.

a.s.suredly the other young men would not enjoy his presence. They might be coldly polite, but nothing more could be expected. For no one could be more conscious than Anthony was at this time in his life of the difference between him and other men of his age, who had the advantages of birth and education. Actually he could feel the grime of his own hands as he clutched them nervously together under the table. Not all the scrubbing of the past hour could altogether rid them of the soot and dust that came of making fires and sweeping office floors. And his clothes, although brushed until they were spotless, were worn almost threadbare in places. The very shirt that Nan had washed and ironed for him, had had to have the frayed ends trimmed away from the wrist-bands.

Anthony glanced across the table. There were Nan's dark eyes smiling at him bravely. She did not look in the least ashamed of him. And as for Nan herself why, she was as pretty a Camp Fire girl as any one at the table. Wearing their Council Fire costumes, each girl decorated only with the honor beads which she had won by her own efforts, the poorer maids and the rich ones were equally attractive. For there were none of the differences in toilet which any other kind of entertainment might have revealed.

But Nan was not only smiling at her brother, she was nodding at him and trying to attract his attention. Evidently she wished him to glance away from Miss McMurtry to his companion on the other side. And Anthony finally did manage to turn shyly half way around.

Then with a sudden feeling almost of happiness he discovered that Betty Ashton was on his right. She did not happen to be looking toward him at the moment, but was talking to John Everett with more animation than he had ever before seen her show.

Betty had no knowledge of Anthony's having been invited to Meg's Camp Fire dinner. His invitation had not come so soon perhaps as the others had received theirs, and afterwards for several days he had had no opportunity for conversation with her. For of course living in Betty's house gave him no right to any pretense of friendship with her.

Yet the moments were pa.s.sing and she must by this time have become conscious of his presence. Miss McMurtry had called him by name several times and no human being could be entirely oblivious of a person so near, unless under some peculiar stress of emotion.

Anthony felt his former nervousness leaving him. He was no longer blushing; his face had become white and a little stern. So that when Betty finally turned to speak to the young man she had a curious impression that his face was unfamiliar, it wore so different an expression from any that she had ever seen on it before. Betty had been conscious of Anthony's presence from the instant of his taking his place beside her and in failing to recognize him had not deliberately intended being rude or unkind. At first she had been amazed and a little chagrined by his presence, for after what she had said to Meg she had not dreamed of the young man's being included among the guests.

Yet this was Meg's entertainment and not hers, and of course she had no right to feel or show offense. Only she and John Everett happened to be having such an interesting talk at the moment of Anthony's appearance, and a.s.suredly John shared her conviction about the newcomer! One could be kind to the young fellow of course, without admitting him within the intimate circle of friendship. And Betty Ashton, although she would never have confessed it, had always been greatly influenced by John Everett's opinions and personality. He was such a big blond giant, older and handsomer and more a man of the world than any other college fellow in Woodford. She was flattered, too, because he had never failed on his return for holidays to show her more attention than any other girl in the village. He might have other friendships outside of his own home; of this she could know nothing, but at the present time this thought only made him the more agreeable.

Therefore it was annoying that she might be expected to waste a part of her evening on a young fellow for whom she felt no personal interest, only good will. Betty herself was not conscious of the condescension in her att.i.tude, but why did she find it so difficult to begin a conversation with the newcomer or even to greet him?

Anthony should at least understand that it was exceedingly ill mannered of him to keep staring down into his plate when he must have become aware that she was now ready to talk with him. But what should she say first? Having failed to notice a person's existence for some time makes an ordinary "Good evening" appear a bit ridiculous.

"How do you do, Mr. Graham?" Betty began half shyly, putting more cordiality into her manner than usual in an effort to atone for her former lack of courtesy.

Then for the briefest s.p.a.ce Anthony glanced up at her quietly, his grave eyes studying hers, until Betty felt her own eyelids flutter and was grateful for the length of her dark lashes which swept like a cloud before her vision. For actually she was blushing in the most absurd and guilty fashion, as though she had done something for which she should feel ashamed.

"Good evening," Anthony returned, and during the rest of the dinner party he never voluntarily addressed a single remark to her.

Betty need not have been afraid that he might interfere with her opportunity for conversation with John Everett. For although Anthony answered politely any questions that she put to him and listened to whatever she wished to say, the greater part of his time he devoted to talking with Miss McMurtry and to pursuing his own train of thought.

For if the young man had originally been doubtful as to whether it was wise for him to accept Meg Everett's invitation, he was glad now with all his heart. Just what this evening was giving him he had needed.

Glancing up and down the table, his own resolution was thereby strengthened. If there had been moments when he had wavered, when it had seemed easier to slip back into his old way of life and to enjoy the companions who were always ready to join hands, he could hereafter recall this experience and Betty's treatment of him, as well as the sight of the other young men guests.

Some day there should be another reckoning. These fellows were largely what their fathers had made them; they had birth, schooling, the influences of cultured homes. But out in the big world a man's own grit and will and ability to keep on working in the face of every difficulty counted in the long run. Anthony clenched his teeth, feeling his backbone actually stiffen with the strength of his resolution. Then he had the humor and good sense to laugh at himself and to begin taking more pleasure in his surroundings.

Here were all the Camp Fire girls whom his sister had talked and written so much about, excepting the two whose absence the others were lamenting, Polly and Esther. Here also was the German professor, who had lately moved into the Ashton house, sitting on the further side of Miss McMurtry and certainly absorbing all of her attention that he possibly dared. But Anthony did not mind; he had a kind of fellow feeling for Herr Crippen, who was poor and evidently not of much interest or importance in the Lady Betty's estimation. There at the farther end of the table must be Miss Rose Dyer, the Camp Fire Guardian whom Nan cared for so deeply, and she certainly was quite as pretty as his sister had said. So why should young Dr. Barton be staring at her so severely? Miss Dyer was only laughing and talking idly with Frank Wharton; and every now and then she turned to smile and speak to the little girl who sat close beside her. This must be Faith, the youngest of the Sunrise girls, whose mother had lately died and who was now living with Miss Dyer.

Anthony smiled unexpectedly, so that Betty, who happened to be glancing toward him at the moment, was vexed over his ability to amuse himself.

He had only just guessed why Dr. Barton found it necessary to regard Miss Dyer so sternly. Anthony felt that he would like to make friends with this young men. He was evidently somewhat narrow and puritanical, but already had offered to a.s.sist him with any of his studies should he need help. And Anthony meant to take advantage of his offer and to interest him if he could; for Dr. Barton was just the kind of a friend he would like to know intimately in these early days of his struggle.

Dinner was finally over, and, stupidly enough, as the guests began leaving the table Anthony Graham felt his own shyness and awkwardness returning. They were intending to dance for the rest of the evening, and dancing was another of the graces that had been left out of his education. However, he could find himself an inconspicuous corner somewhere, and it would be good enough fun to look on.

CHAPTER XII

"LIFE'S LITTLE IRONIES"

"Mollie O'Neill, if you don't tell me what you and Billy Webster have been whispering about all evening and why you look so worried, I don't think I can bear it a moment longer," Betty Ashton insisted, having at last found her friend alone for a moment, while the other girls and men were clearing the living room for the dance.

"There isn't anything to tell. At least there really is, but I have not been told just what," Mollie sighed in return.

"Then of course it's Polly?"

Mollie nodded. "Early this morning before any of us were awake a telegram arrived from Polly begging mother to come to New York at once.

Polly said she wasn't ill and there was nothing for us to worry over, but just the same Sylvia and I have been worried nearly to death all day. For mother got off within a few hours. Then late this evening Billy Webster appears in Woodford after his visit in New York. And though he tells me that he saw Polly and Esther and has confessed that he knows why Polly telegraphed for mother, he won't give me the least satisfaction about anything. Can you make any suggestion, Betty dear?

What difficulty do you suppose Polly has gotten into this time? For certainly it is Polly and not Esther; Esther would never be absurd."

Mollie lowered her voice as several of their friends were approaching.

"Please don't speak of this, Betty. Mother left word that we were not to mention it outside the family until she learned exactly what was the matter. But of course she said that I might tell you."

Before Betty could reply John Everett had invited her to dance.

But slowly she shook her head. "I can't, John. I know you will think it foolish; perhaps it is. Of course I have come to Meg's party and enjoyed it very much. And yet, well, somehow I don't feel quite like dancing. You understand, don't you?"

John acquiesced. He was disappointed, and yet felt himself able to understand almost anything that Betty wished him to, when she looked at him with that appealing light in her gray eyes and that rose flush in her cheeks.

"Never mind," he returned; "I'll find seats for us somewhere, where we can manage to talk and yet watch the others."

Betty smiled. It was agreeable to be so sought after, and yet under the circ.u.mstances quite out of the question.

"You will please find me a place where I can watch, but not with you.

This is your party, remember. Meg will expect you and every man to do his duty," she replied.

So after a little further discussion Betty found herself seated upon a kind of miniature throne, which John had made for her by piling some sofa cushions upon an old divan. Behind her was a background of cedar and pine branches decorating the walls and just above her head flickered the lights of candles from a pair of bra.s.s sconces.

Betty wore her red brown hair parted in the middle and in two heavy braids, one falling over each shoulder, while around her forehead was a blue and silver band with the three white feathers, the insignia of her t.i.tle of "Princess" in their Camp Fire Club. Her dress was cut a little low in the throat and about it were strung seven chains of honor beads.

For a little while at least she might have found interest in watching the others dance had she not been worried about Polly. She was uneasy and it was stupid to have been given this opportunity to think; for thinking could do no possible good. Whatever mischief Polly had gotten into was sure to be beyond one's wildest imagination. It would be much more agreeable if she might have some one to talk with her and so distract her attention.

And there was one other guest beside herself who was not dancing.

Betty flushed uncomfortably. It must appear strange to the others to see Anthony sitting only a short distance away from her and yet paying no more attention to her presence than if they were upon opposite sides of the world.

Once or twice Betty looked graciously toward the young man, intending to smile an invitation to him to sit near her, should he show the inclination. For possibly he was too much embarra.s.sed to make the first move. She must remember that he had had no one to teach him good manners and that he was always both shy and awkward in her presence.

However, at present he seemed totally unaware of her existence and not in the least requiring entertainment. For he was watching the dancers with such profound concentration that apparently his entire attention was absorbed by them.

The girl had an unusually good opportunity for studying the young man's face. She had not noticed until tonight how thin he was and how clear and finely cut his features. There was no trace of his Italian mother left, save in his black hair and in the curious glow which his skin showed underneath its pallor. His nose was big--too big, Betty thought--and his lips closed and firm. He had a kind of hungry look.

Hungry for what? the girl wondered. Then she had a sudden feeling of compunction. Anthony might sometimes even be hungry for food, he worked so hard, made so little money and was so busy by day and night.

Before tonight she might have helped him without his knowing or even caring, if he had guessed her purpose. But after tonight? Well, Betty felt reasonably sure that she and Anthony could never be upon exactly the same footing again. For somehow she had hurt him more than she had intended, not realizing that any one could be at once so humble and so proud. And as she had made one of those mistakes that one can never apologize for, there was no point in dwelling on it any longer. Only she did regret by this time that deep down in her heart there must still linger her old narrow att.i.tude toward money and good birth. She was poor enough herself now, and yet in her case, as in so many others, had it not made her feel all the more pride in the distinction of her family? a.s.suredly she had often whispered to herself that poverty did not matter when one bore a distinguished name.

Betty smothered a sigh and a yawn. It was tiresome to be sitting there thinking and reproaching herself when the others were having such a good time. How splendidly Billy Webster and Mollie danced together!