The Search Part 13

Then one day he called her up and told her that the next Sat.u.r.day and Sunday the camp was to be thrown open to visitors, and if she could come down with his mother he would meet them at the Hostess' House and they could spend the day together. Ruth promptly accepted the invitation and promised to arrange it all with his mother and take the first train down Sat.u.r.day morning. After he had hung up the receiver and paid his bill he walked away from the little telephone headquarters in a daze of joy. She had promised to come! For one whole day he would have her to himself! She was willing to come with his mother! Then as he pa.s.sed the officers'

headquarters it occurred to him that perhaps she had other interests in coming to camp than just to see him, and he frowned in the darkness and his heart burned hot within him. What if they should meet Wainwright! How the day would be spoiled!

With this trouble on his mind he went quite early in the morning down as near to the little trolley station as he could get, for since the quarantine had been put on no soldiers without a special pa.s.s were allowed beyond a certain point, which was roped off about the trolley station. Sadly, Cameron took his place in the front rank, and stood with folded arms to wait. He knew he would have some time to stand before he could look for his guests, but the crowd was always so great at the train times that it was well to get a good place early. So he stood and thought his sad thoughts, almost wishing he had not asked them to come, as he realized more and more what unpleasantness might arise in case Wainwright should find out who were his guests. He was sure that the lieutenant was not above sending him away on a foolish errand, or getting him into a humiliating situation before his friends.

As he stood thus going over the situation and trying to plan how he might spirit his guests away to some pleasant spot where Wainwright would not be likely to penetrate, he heard the pompous voice of the lieutenant himself, and slipping behind a comrade turned his face away so that he would not be recognized.

"Yes, I got special leave for three days!" proclaimed the satisfied voice, and Cameron's heart bounded up so joyously that he would have almost been willing then and there to put aside his vow not to salute him, and throw his arms about his enemy. Going away for three days. That meant two things! First that Wainwright would not have to be thought of in making his plans, and second that they were evidently not going to move before Wainwright got back. They surely would not have given him leave if the company was to be sent away that day. A third exultant thought followed; Wainwright was going home presumably to see Ruth and Ruth would not be there! Perhaps, oh _perhaps_ he might be able to persuade her and his mother to stay over Sunday! He hardly dared to hope, however, for Ruth Macdonald might think it presumptuous in him to suggest it, and again she might wish to go home to meet Wainwright. And, too, where could they sleep if they did stay. It was hopeless, of course. They would have to go back to Baltimore or to Washington for the night and that would be a hard jaunt.

However, Ruth Macdonald had thought of such a possibility herself, and when she and Mrs. Cameron stepped down from the Philadelphia train at the small country station that had suddenly become an important point because of the great camp that had sprung up within a stone's throw of it, she looked around enquiringly at the little cottage homes in sight and said to her companion:

"Would it be very dreadful in us to discover if there is some place here where we could stay over night in case John's company does not go just yet and we find we would be allowed to see him again on Sunday?"

She knew by the sudden lighting of the mother's wistful face that she had read aright the sighs half stifled that she had heard on the train when the mother had thought she was not noticing.

"Oh, do you suppose we could stay?" The voice was full of yearning.

"Well, we can find out, at least. Anyhow, I'm going in here to see whether they would take us in case we could. It looks like a nice neat place."

Ruth pulled open the gate, ran up the steps of the pleasant porch shaded with climbing roses, and knocked timidly at the open door.

A broad, somewhat frowsy woman appeared and surveyed her coolly with that apprising glance that a native often gives to a stranger; took in the elegant simplicity of her quiet expensive gown and hat, lingering with a jealous glance on the exquisite hand bag she carried, then replied apathetically to Ruth's question:

"No, we're all full. We ain't got any room. You might try down to the Salvation Army Hut. They got a few rooms down there. It's just been built. They might take you in. It's down the road a piece, that green building to the right. You can't miss it. You'll see the sign."

Ruth caught her breath, thanked her and hastened back to her companion.

Salvation Army! That was eccentric, queer, but it would be perfectly respectable! Or would it? Would Aunt Rhoda disapprove very much? Somehow the Salvation Army was a.s.sociated in her mind with slums and drunkards.

But, at least, they might be able to direct her to a respectable place.

Mrs. Cameron, too, looked dubious. This having a society girl to chaperone was new business for her. She had never thought much about it, but somehow she would hardly have a.s.sociated the Salvation Army with the Macdonald family in any way. She paused and looked doubtfully at the unpretentious little one-story building that stretched away capaciously and unostentatiously from the gra.s.sy roadside.

"SALVATION ARMY" arose in bold inviting letters from the roof, and "Ice Cold Lemonade" beckoned from a sign on the neat screen door. Ruth was a bit excited.

"I'm going in!" she declared and stepped within the door, Mrs. Cameron following half fearfully.

The room which they entered was long and clean and pleasant. Simple white curtains draped the windows, many rush-bottomed big rocking chairs were scattered about, a long desk or table ran along one side of the room with writing materials, a piano stood open with music on its rack, and shelves of books and magazines filled the front wall.

Beyond the piano were half a dozen little tables, white topped and ready for a hungry guest. At the back a counter ran the width of the room, with sandwiches and pies under gla.s.s covers, and a bright coffee urn steaming suggestively at one end. Behind it through an open door was a view of the kitchen, neat, handy, crude, but all quite clean, and through this door stepped a sweet-faced woman, wiping her hands on her gingham ap.r.o.n and coming toward them with a smile of welcome as if they were expected guests. It was all so primitive, and yet there was something about it that bore the dignity of refinement, and puzzled this girl from her sheltered home. She was almost embarra.s.sed to make her enquiry, but the hearty response put her quite at her ease, as if she had asked a great favor of another lady in a time of stress:

"I'm so sorry, but our rooms are all taken," the woman waved a slender hand toward the long side of the room and Ruth noticed for the first time that a low part.i.tion ran the length of the room at one side with doors.

Mechanically she counted them, eight of them, neat, gray-painted doors.

Could these be rooms? How interesting! She had a wild desire to see inside them. Rooms! They were more like little stalls, for the part.i.tions did not reach all the way to the ceiling. A vision of her own s.p.a.cious apartment at home came floating in vague contrast. Then one of the doors opposite her opened as its occupant, a quiet little elderly woman, came out, and she had a brief glimpse of the white curtained window, the white draped comfortable looking bed, a row of calico curtained hooks on the wall, and a speck of a wash stand with tin pitcher and basin in the corner, all as clean and new as the rest of the place. She swiftly decided to stay here if there was any chance. Another look at the sweet face of the presiding woman who was trying to make them understand how crowded everything was, and how many mothers there were with sons who were going that night or the next, and who wanted to be near them, determined her. She was saying there was just a chance in case a certain mother from Boston who had written her did not arrive at five o'clock:

"But we ought not to take a chance," said Cameron's mother, looking at the eager faced girl with a cautious wistfulness. "What could we do if night came and we had no place to stay?"

Ruth cast her eyes about.

"Couldn't we sit in a couple of those rocking chairs all night?" she asked eagerly.

The Salvation Army woman laughed affectionately as if she had found a kindred spirit:

"Why, dearie, I could give you a couple of cots out here in the dining room if you didn't mind. I wouldn't have pillows, but I think I could get you some blankets."

"Then we'll stay," said Ruth triumphantly before Mrs. Cameron could protest, and went away feeling that she had a new friend in the wise sweet Salvation Army woman. In five minutes more they were seated in the trolley on their way into the camp.

"I'm afraid your people would not like you to stay in such a place,"

began Mrs. Cameron dubiously, though her eyes shone with a light that belied her words.

"Nonsense!" said Ruth with a bewildering smile, "it is as clean as a pin and I'm very much excited about staying there. It will be an adventure.

I've never known much about the Salvation Army before, except that they are supposed to be very good people."

"There might be some rough characters----"

"Well, I guess they can't hurt us with that good woman around, and anyhow, you're going to stay till your son goes!" laughingly declared Ruth.

"Well, we'll see what John says," said his mother with a sigh, "I can't let you do anything--questionable."

"Please, Mrs. Cameron," pleaded Ruth, "let us forget things like that this trip and just have a happy time."

The mother smiled, sadly, wistfully, through a mist of tears. She could not help thinking how wonderful it would have been if there had been no war and her dear boy could have had this sweet wholesome girl for a friend.

XIV

The sun was shining gloriously when the two stepped from the trolley at the little camp station and looked bewildered about them at the swarms of uniforms and boyish faces, searching for their one. They walked through the long lane lined with soldiers, held back by the great rope and guarded by Military Police. Each crowding eager soldier had an air of expectancy upon him, a silence upon him that showed the realization of the parting that was soon to be. In many faces deep disappointment was growing as the expected ones did not arrive. Ruth's throat was filled with oppression and tears as she looked about and suddenly felt the grip of war, and realized that all these thousands were bearing this bitterness of parting, perhaps forever. Death stalking up and down a battlefield, waiting to take his pick of them! This was the picture that flashed before her shrinking eyes.

It was almost like a solemn ceremony, this walking down the lane of silent waiting soldiers, to be claimed by their one. It seemed to bring the two young people nearer in heart than they had ever been before, when at the end of the line Cameron met them with a salute, kissed his mother, and then turned to Ruth and took her hand with an earnest grave look of deep pleasure in his eyes.

He led them up under the big trees in front of the Hostess' House while all around were hushed voices, and teary eyes. That first moment of meeting was the saddest and the quietest of the day with everybody, except the last parting hour when mute grief sat unchecked upon every face, and no one stopped to notice if any man were watching, but just lived out his real heart self, and showed his mother or his sister or his sweetheart how much he loved and suffered.

That was a day which all the little painted b.u.t.terflies of temptation should have been made to witness. There were no painted ladies coming through the gates that day. This was no time for friendships like that.

Death was calling, and the deep realities of life stood out and demanded attention.

The whole thing was unlike anything Ruth had ever witnessed before. It was a new world. It was as if the old conventions which had heretofore hedged her life were dropped like a garment revealing life as it really was, and every one walked unashamed, because the great sorrow and need of all had obliterated the little petty rules of life, and small pa.s.sions were laid aside, while hearts throbbed in a common cause.

He waited on them like a prince, seeming to antic.i.p.ate every need, and smooth every annoyance. He led them away from the throng to the quiet hillside above the camp where spring had set her dainty foot-print. He spread down his thick army blanket for them to sit upon and they held sweet converse for an hour or two. He told them of camp life and what was expected to be when they started over, and when they reached the other side.

His mother was brave and sensible. Sometimes the tears would brim over at some suggestion of what her boy was soon to bear or do, but she wore a smile as courageous and sweet as any saint could wear. The boy saw and grew tender over it. A bird came and sang over their heads, and the moment was sweet with springing things and quiet with the brooding tenderness of parting that hung over the busy camp. Ruth had one awful moment of adjustment when she tried to think how her aunt Rhoda would look if she could see her now; then she threw the whole thing to the winds and resolved to enjoy the day. She saw that while the conventions by which she had been reared were a good thing in general, perhaps, they certainly were not meant to hamper or hinder the true and natural life of the heart, or, if they were, they were not _good_ things; and she entered into the moment with her full sympathy. Perhaps Aunt Rhoda would not understand, but the girl she had brought up knew that it was good to be here. Her aunt was away from home with an invalid friend on a short trip so there had been no one to question Ruth's movements when she decided to run down to Washington with a "friend from the Red Cross" and incidentally visit the camp a little while.

He had them over the camp by and by, to the trenches and dummies, and all the paraphernalia of war preparation. Then they went back to the Hostess'

House and fell into line to get dinner. As Cameron stood looking down at Ruth in the crowded line in the democratic way which was the only way there was, it came over them both how strange and wonderful it was that they two who had seen each other so little in their lives and who had come from such widely separated social circles should be there together in that beautiful intimacy. It came to them both at once and flashed its thought from one pair of eyes to the other and back again. Cameron looked deep into her thoughts then for a moment to find out if there was a shadow of mortification or dismay in her face; but though she flushed consciously her sweet true eyes gave back only the pleasure she was feeling, and her real enjoyment of the day. Then instantly each of them felt that another crisis had been pa.s.sed in their friendship, another something unseen and beautiful had happened that made this moment most precious--one never to be forgotten no matter what happened in the future, something they would not have missed for any other experience.

It was Ruth who announced suddenly, late in the afternoon, during a silence in which each one was thinking how fast the day was going:

"Did you know that we were going to stay over Sunday?"

Cameron's face blazed with joyful light: