The Camp Fire Girls' Careers

CHAPTER XIV – A Sudden Summons

Though Billy Webster had brought with him from the village half a dozen letters and as many papers, no one of the dwellers in Sunrise cabin was able to read anything for three or four hours after his arrival.

For Betty and Mollie were having an informal luncheon. But indeed, ever since taking up their abode at the cabin several weeks before, they had never passed a single day without guests. For it was too much like old times for their Woodford friends to find the door of the little house once more hospitably open, with a log fire burning in the big fire place in the living room and the movement and laughter of girls inside the old cabin and out.

At present there were only the four of them living there together with the Ashton’s old Irish cook, Ann, as their guardian, chaperon and first aid in domestic difficulties. Later on, there would be other members of the Sunrise Hill club, who were already looking forward to spending their holidays at the cabin.

As a matter of course, Billy Webster was at present their most frequent visitor, although his calls were ordinarily short. Almost every morning he used to ride up to the cabin on horseback to see if things had gone well with his friends during the night, or to ask if there were any errands in the village which he could do or have done for them. For you may remember that the land on which the cabin stood had been bought from Billy’s father and was not far from their farm. Billy now seemed to be the only one of their former boy friends who was able to come often to the old cabin.

John Everett was at work in the broker’s office in New York City, Frank Wharton had only just returned from his honeymoon journey with Eleanor Meade, and Anthony Graham was attending a session of the New Hampshire Legislature and probably spending his week ends in visits to Meg Everett. There were other men friends, assuredly, who appeared at the cabin now and then, but they had fewer associations with the past.

Betty was looking forward to John Everett’s coming a little later; but she had begged him to wait until they were more comfortably settled and the two younger girls had grown accustomed to their new surroundings.

Today Rose Barton and Faith had driven out to the cabin for luncheon and Mrs. Crippen, Betty’s step-mother with the new small step-brother, who was an adorable red-haired baby with the pinkest of cheeks and the bluest eyes in the world. Then, soon after lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Wharton appeared in their up-to-date motor car, which had been Frank’s wedding gift from his father.

So it was a simple enough matter to understand why neither Betty nor Mollie had the opportunity even to glance inside the envelopes of their letters, though Mollie recognized that she had received one from her mother and Betty saw that Mrs. Wharton had also written to her. There was nothing unusual in this, for Betty and Mrs. Wharton had always remained intimate and devoted friends, just as they had been since Betty was a tiny girl and Mrs. Wharton, as Mrs. O’Neill, lived across the street from the big Ashton house.

Certainly for the time being the two hostesses had their attention fully distracted by their social responsibilities. For Mollie had direct charge of the luncheon party, while to Betty had fallen the duty of seeing that their friends learned to understand one another and to have a gay time.

It was a pleasure for her to observe what an interest Faith Barton had immediately seemed to feel in her little French girl. For one could only think of Angelique as a child, she was so tiny and fragile with all her delicate body hidden from view save her quaint, vivid face and slender arms.

Faith herself had been a curious child, and though now so nearly grown, was not in the least like an every-day person. She was extremely pretty, suggesting a fair young saint in an old Italian picture; and still she loved dreams better than realities and books more than people. Ordinarily she was very shy; yet here in Angelique, Faith believed that she had probably found the friend of her heart. The French girl seemed romance personified, and delicately and gently she set out to woo her. But Angel was not easy to win, she was still cold and frightened with all persons except her fairy princess. Nevertheless, Betty sincerely hoped that the two girls might eventually learn to care truly for each other.

They were so different in appearance that it was an artistic pleasure to see them together. Faith was so soft and fair; Angel so dark and with such possibilities of restrained vivacity and passion. Then the older girl knew so little of real life, while the younger one had already touched its sorrows too deeply.

After all, it was really Faith’s sudden attachment that kept the guests at the cabin longer than they had intended to remain.

At four o’clock, fearing the excitement too much for her protégé, Betty had persuaded the girl to retire to bed. Faith had at once insisted on having tea alone in the room with Angel so that they might have a chance for a really intimate conversation. It was Faith, however, who did all the talking, nor did she even have the satisfaction of knowing that her new acquaintance had enjoyed her. Certainly the French girl was going to be difficult; yet perhaps to a romantic nature mystery is the greatest attraction.

Actually it was almost six o’clock when the last visitor had finally departed from Sunrise cabin and Mollie and Betty had a few quiet moments together. It had been a beautiful day and now when the sun was sinking behind the hill, spreading its radiance over the world, the two friends stepped outside the cabin door for a short breathing spell.

Betty had completely forgotten her unopened letters; she was thinking of something entirely different, and her gray eyes were not free from a certain wistfulness as she looked around the familiar landscape. All day long, although she had done her best at concealment, she had felt vaguely restless and unhappy. There had been no definite reason, except, perhaps, the pathetic story confided to her earlier in the day.

Suddenly Mollie O’Neill turned toward her friend, at the same instant drawing two letters from her pocket.

“I declare, Betty dear, I have not had a single moment of leisure all day, not even time to read mother’s letter. Have you? I do hope she had nothing of special importance to say. I thought she might possibly come and see us for a while this afternoon.”

Seeing Mollie open Mrs. Wharton’s note and beginning to read it, Betty immediately followed her example. But the moment after both girls turned their eyes from studying the sheets of paper before them to stare curiously at each other.

“How very extraordinary and how very unlike mother!” exclaimed Mollie O’Neill in a puzzled fashion.

“Surely she must know that it is quite out of the question for us to do what she asks,” Betty went on, as if continuing her friend’s sentence. “She understands that we have just come to the cabin and that we have promised to take the best kind of care of Angel and Cricket with Dr. Barton’s assistance. Of course, Mollie, you may have to do what your mother says, but do please make her understand that it is impossible for me. I wish she was not so insistent, though, it makes it dreadfully difficult to refuse. Does your letter say that you must leave for New York City as early as possible tomorrow and join your mother at the Astor Hotel?”

Mollie nodded, still frowning. “If mother wished us to go to New York with her on business, or pleasure, or for whatever reason, I cannot see why she did not wait and let us all go together tomorrow. I simply can’t see why she should rush off this morning as her letter says and leave us to follow the next day. But I suppose if you can get some one to stay on here at the cabin with you, dear, that I must do as mother asks. You see, she writes that it is a matter of great importance that has called her away and that she is relying on my being with her.”

Reading her own letter for the second time, Betty folded it thoughtfully and replaced it inside the envelope. “Of course you must go, Mollie, without a shadow of a doubt,” she answered positively. “Rose and Faith will come out here and stay for a few days and Dr. Barton will be with them at night. I shall be rather glad to have them know Angel better; it might help her in a good many ways. The thing that troubles me is whether I ought to go with you. You see your mother also writes that she is relying on having me with her as well. Though she does not give me her reason, still she is very positive. She says that my coming to New York at the present time will mean a great deal to me personally, and moreover she particularly desires me to be with you.” Betty slowly shook her head. “I don’t see exactly how I can refuse; do you, Mollie? I don’t believe your mother has ever been really angry with me in my life and I should so hate her to be now. Besides I think it would be rather fun to go, and of course Rose would look after things for a few days.”

“Then it is decided?” and Mollie breathed a sigh of mingled relief and pleasure. “Well, I must go in at once and telephone Billy and ask him to look up time-tables and things. Mother has sent me a check big enough to pay our expenses if you do not happen to have the money at the cabin with you.”

All the hours following that evening and in the early morning were too busy with preparations and explanations to allow of much conjecture; yet in the back of their minds both girls were trying to work out the same problem.

What conceivable thing could have happened to make Mrs. Wharton summon them to New York in this odd fashion? Could it have anything to do with Polly? But if Polly had been taken suddenly ill, would Mrs. Wharton not have given them some slight warning, some preparation for the shock that might lie ahead of them? Yet it was idle to make vain guesses or to worry without cause. In a short while Mrs. Wharton would, of course, explain the whole situation.

As passengers on the earliest afternoon train that left Woodford for New York City next day, Mollie and Betty had already forgotten their first opposition to this journey to New York. All at once it appeared like a very delightful and natural excursion. If Mrs. Wharton had occasion to spend several days in New York what more agreeable than spending the time with her? There would be the shops and theaters to visit and a glimpse at the new spring fashions. Moreover, Betty did not altogether object to the idea of possibly seeing John Everett. They were old friends and his open admiration and attention meant a great deal to her.

CHAPTER XV – “Little Old New York”

Mrs. Wharton did not seem to consider that an explanation was imperative immediately upon the arrival of the two girls in New York. At the Forty-second street station she met them in a taxi, and certainly in traveling to their hotel through the usual exciting crush of motors, carriages and people there was no opportunity for serious questioning.

They were to go to a musical as soon as dinner was over and there was just sufficient time to dress. So Betty went almost at once to her own room adjoining Mrs. Wharton’s, while Mollie occupied the room with her mother.

Once while Mrs. Wharton was adjusting the drapery on a new frock which she had purchased for her daughter only that afternoon, Mollie turned toward her mother with her blue eyes suddenly serious. Up to that instant she had been too much absorbed in her frock to think of anything else.

“Why in the world, mother, did you send for us to join you in New York so unexpectedly? If you were thinking of coming, why did you not motor out and tell us? Or you might at least have telephoned,” she said.

Mrs. Wharton’s face was not visible, as she was engaged for the moment in the study of the new gown. “I made up my mind quite hurriedly, dear. There was nothing I could explain over the telephone. Besides, I have heard you and Betty say a dozen times that nothing gave you as much pleasure as a trip taken without any special discussion or preparation. Don’t you think we will have a charming time, just the three of us, dining at the different hotels, going to the theaters? I believe one calls it ‘doing New York.’ But hurry, now, and finish fixing your hair. I must go and see if I can be of any assistance to the Princess.” And Mrs. Wharton hurried off without even attempting to answer her daughter’s question.

Almost the same result followed a more deliberate attempt at cross-examination which took place at breakfast the following morning. This time both Mollie and Betty started forth as determined questioners. Why had they been summoned so suddenly to New York? What was the very important reason for their presence? It was all very charming, of course, and frankly both girls were delighted with the opportunity that had been given them. Still they both thought it only natural and fair that they should be offered some solution to the puzzle of their mysterious and hasty letters.

Mrs. Wharton only laughed and shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly, in a manner always suggestive of Polly. She did not see why she had to be taken to task so seriously because of an agreeable invitation. Had she said that there was some urgent reason for her request? Well, was it not sufficient that she wished the society of the two girls?

Then deliberately picking up the morning paper Mrs. Wharton refused to listen to any further remarks addressed to her. A few moments afterwards, observing that her companions had wandered from their original topic and were criticizing the appearance of a young woman a few tables away, a smile suddenly crumpled the corners of her mouth.

“Mollie, Betty, there are the most wonderful advertisements in the papers this morning of amazing bargains. Mollie, you and I both need new opera cloaks dreadfully and Mr. Wharton has said we might both have them. Of course we will shop all morning, but what shall we do tonight? Go to the theater, I suppose. When country people are in town an evening not spent at the theater is almost a wasted one.”

Mollie laughed. “This from mother!” she exclaimed. “Think what you used to tell poor Polly about the wickedness of things theatrical! But of course I should rather go than do anything else.”

Mrs. Wharton glanced toward Betty, who appeared to be blushing slightly without apparent cause.

“I am afraid I can’t go with you, if you don’t mind,” she explained. “You see I promised John Everett that I would see him tonight. He wrote asking me to give him my first evening, but I thought it better to make it the second.”

“Well, bring John along with us, Betty dear,” Mrs. Wharton returned. “I should like very much to have him and besides I don’t believe I should like you to go out with him alone in New York or to see him here at the hotel unless I am with you. People are more conventional here, dear, than in a small place.”

Betty nodded. “Of course, we shall be delighted to be with you. What play shall we see?”

Thoughtfully Mrs. Wharton picked up for the second time the temporarily discarded paper and commenced studying the list of theatrical attractions.

“There is a little Irish play that has been running here in New York for about a month that is a great success,” she said. “I think I should very much like to see it if you girls don’t mind. It is called Moira. I hope we shall be able to get good seats.”

The little party of three did not get back to the hotel until after tea time that afternoon and were then compelled to lie down, as they were completely worn out from shopping. But fatigue made no difference in the interest of the toilets which the girls made for the evening. John Everett had been invited to dinner as well, and most unexpectedly Mr. Wharton had telegraphed that he was running down from Woodford for twenty-four hours and was bringing Billy Webster along with him. They would probably manage to arrive at about eight o’clock and would dress as quickly as possible. Dinner was not to be delayed on their account. They expected to dine on the train.

Of course Betty had promptly yielded to temptation and bought herself a new evening frock before the shopping expedition had been under way two hours. Mrs. Wharton had bought Mollie a charming one only the day before and was now buying her an opera coat to make the toilet complete. It was extravagant; Betty fully appreciated her own weakness. Was she not at great expense keeping Sunrise cabin open and looking after her two new friends? However, she had not been to New York for months and would probably not be there again in a longer time and the frock was a rare bargain and should not be overlooked. But every woman and girl thoroughly understands the arguments that must be gone through conscientiously before yielding to the sure temptation of clothes.

Assuredly Betty felt no pangs of conscience when she looked at herself in the mirror a few moments before dinner time and just as she was about to join her friends. The dress was simple and not expensive, white crepe de Chine with a tunic of chiffon, adorned with a wide corn-colored girdle and little chiffon roses of the same shade, bordering the neck and elbow sleeves. Betty wore a bunch of violets at her waist. Mollie was in pure white, which was particularly becoming to her because of her dark hair and fair skin.

But although the two girls had never looked prettier and although Mrs. Wharton was now past forty, a number of persons, seeing the little party, might have thought her the best-looking of the three. For even in her early girlhood, when she had been the recognized belle of Woodford, never had she seemed more radiant, more full of vitality and happiness. She wore a curious blue and silver silk dress with a diamond ornament in her beautiful gray hair.

All during dinner both Mollie and Betty discovered themselves gazing at Mrs. Wharton admiringly and with some wonder. For not only was she looking handsomer than usual, but seemed to be in the gayest spirits. Neither John Everett nor the girls had the opportunity for much conversation, as Mrs. Wharton absorbed the greater part of it.

However, after Billy and Mr. Wharton had joined them, the four young people drove together to the theater, Mr. and Mrs. Wharton following in a second cab.

The theater party was by this time such a large one, that, although there had been no mention made of it beforehand, no one was surprised at being shown a box instead of orchestra seats. However, the fact that the box was already occupied by two other figures was a tremendous surprise to Mollie and Betty.

One of them was a tall young man with black hair, a singularly well-cut though rather pale face, and handsome hazel eyes. The other was a girl, rather under medium height, with light hair and a figure as expressive of strength and quiet determination as her face.

“Why, Sylvia Wharton, what on earth has brought you to New York at such a time?” Mollie O’Neill demanded, throwing her arm affectionately around her step-sister’s waist and drawing her into the rear of the box. “I didn’t think any power on earth could persuade you to leave those dreadful studies of yours so near examination time!”

“Oh, I am one of mother’s surprises for you in New York!” Sylvia replied as calmly as though she had always known the whole story of the two girls’ unexpected journey. Calmness was ever a trait of Sylvia’s character.

Mollie was so excited by this unlooked-for meeting with her younger sister that she would give no one else a chance to speak to her. The girls and their two escorts had arrived before Mr. and Mrs. Wharton, and it was therefore Mollie’s place to have welcomed their second guest or at least to have spoken to him.

Under the circumstances Betty Ashton found herself compelled to offer her hand to Anthony Graham before any one else seemed aware of his presence. She was surprised to see him, she explained, yet very glad he happened to be in town for the evening. Betty was polite, certainly; still, no one could have exactly accused her of cordiality. Therefore Anthony was not sorry that the arrival of his host and hostess at this instant spared her from further effort.

The evening was apparently to continue one of surprises. For no sooner had Mrs. Wharton’s party seated themselves in their box than Mollie touched Betty and Sylvia lightly with her fan.

“See, dears,” she whispered, “look straight across the theater at the box opposite us. There is Margaret Adams and that good-looking Mr. Hunt, who used to be a friend of Polly’s.” Mollie turned to her mother. “Did you know Miss Adams was in New York? I thought she and Mr. Hunt were still acting.”

Mrs. Wharton shook her head. “No, dear, their tour ended a week or more ago. Miss Adams is here in New York resting. She will not play again until next fall, I believe. Yes, I have seen her once since I came to town. But don’t talk, I wish to study my program.”

With this suggestion both Mollie and Betty glanced for an instant at the list of characters in the center of their books of the play. Peggy Moore was the star of the performance. She was a young actress who must have earned her reputation quite recently, for no one had heard of her until a short while before.

The bell rang for the raising of the curtain and at the same time Margaret Adams blew a kiss to the girls from behind her fan.

CHAPTER XVI – “Moira”

The first scene of the play opened upon a handsome New York drawing room, where preparations were evidently being made for a ball, for the room was filled with flowers, and servants were seen walking in and out, completing the final arrangements. Within a few moments two girls wearing dainty tea gowns, stole quietly down the stairway and stood in the center of the stage, discussing their approaching entertainment. They were both pretty and fashionable young women, evidently about eighteen and twenty-one. From their conversation it soon became evident that they were of plain origin and making a desperate effort to secure a place for themselves among the “smart set” in New York City. Moreover, they were spending more money than they should in the effort. The father had been an Irish politician, but, as he had died several years before, no outsiders knew the extent of the family fortune. Upon the horizon there was a friend upon whom much depended. He was evidently a member of an old New York family and of far better social standing than the rest of their acquaintances; moreover, he was wealthy, handsome and agreeable and had paid the older of the two sisters, Kate, somewhat marked attention.