Juliet Temple
"But, my dear, do you think this the proper time to introduce a stranger
into our household?"
Mrs. Burton and Captain Burton were walking up and down outside Tahawus
cabin the following morning. Wearing a sealskin coat and a small fur hat
and muff, little was visible except Mrs. Burton's eyes and the brilliant
color in her cheeks wrought by the still, clear cold.
Captain Burton, who was a good deal older, was a middle-aged man with
iron-gray hair and dark eyes; a handsome, erect figure, considerably
taller than his companion.
"Why, no, I suppose not, Polly," he returned, "but I explained to you
the circumstances were exceptional. Here was a girl who had been living
in the same boarding place with me, to whom I had been saying
good-morning and good-evening for a number of weeks and now and then
stopping to talk for a few moments, suddenly turned out into the world
with no money and apparently no friends whom she could ask to aid her. I
believe she has friends, but preferred being independent. Had I not
assured her you were greatly in need of some one, she would not have
come to you. She was careful to tell me that although she had studied
nursing a short time, she was not a professional nurse, having given up
her studies in order to take a position in Washington during the war,
being in need of funds and unable to wait for her graduation.
"I convinced her that you were not so ill as to require professional
care, but required some one to wait upon you, prepare special dishes and
write letters. In fact, I even told her that a part of her work would be
that of a maid, but that I was sure you would be extremely kind and that
living with you was a pleasure, Polly, under almost any conditions."
Mrs. Burton laughed.
"That was very kind of you, dear, but scarcely true. I have an idea that
Miss Temple will form a different impression of my character as an
invalid if she overhears Aunt Patricia's report of me. Besides, Richard,
don't you realize that Aunt Patricia will never permit Miss Temple to
usurp her duties, which seem to consist in forcing me to eat more food
and sleep a greater number of hours than any human being reasonably can
manage. As for the other tasks, which I am perfectly well able to
accomplish for myself, there are half a dozen of the Camp Fire girls
more than willing to do whatever I ask. Then there is my beloved Betty
Graham whom I have not seen intimately in a number of years. We have
made a secret arrangement by which she pretends to be acting as my
secretary in order that we may have a few quiet hours together. As I do
not write a dozen letters a week and ordinarily write them myself, Betty
does not find her duties arduous. Really I do not see what Miss Temple
is to do for me or for any one else. I am sorry for her of course, but
just at present the cabin is to be unusually crowded. If the girl has no
money I suppose we must see that she is able to board somewhere for a
time, although we haven't a great deal of money ourselves these days,
have we?
"I do wish Aunt Patricia were not so generous. It is ridiculous for me
to be living in this state! Please don't let her find out we must help
Miss Temple until she is able to secure work. She would then insist upon
undertaking the responsibility, besides being immensely aggrieved at our
having thought of it. Her one idea is that I shall have no reason to say
I must go back to work in order to help restore our fortunes. Aunt
Patricia seems to object to everything in connection with the stage
these days, when once upon a time she loved it dearly."
"But, Polly, Miss Temple will not accept money. I offered to lend her a
small amount which she could repay when she chose, but she declared that
I was a comparative stranger, and if she were forced to borrow money had
best apply to some one who had known her longer and more intimately.
"What I don't understand is why you wrote me that you and Aunt Patricia
were greatly in need of some one and that you were much worried over
Aunt Patricia's breaking down. I have had this in mind some time and
been worried. Women are so extraordinarily inconsistent!"
"Yes, and men so extraordinarily dull sometimes, my dear. I plead
guilty; I did write you what you accuse me of, but that was _months_ ago
when Aunt Patricia and I were living here alone. Since then, as you
know, our household has changed completely. Betty is here and all the
Camp Fire girls, and we even have a jewel of a cook, Elspeth. You must
talk to her. Her people have lived in the Adirondacks for years and yet
she still has a trace of a Scotch accent and uses Scotch words now and
then."
"Very well, as I know Miss Temple and you do not, I presume I had best
try to explain the situation. But I must say I am disappointed. I
thought you were particularly sympathetic with young girls, Polly, after
your experience as a Camp Fire guardian. As far as I know Juliet Temple
is a charming girl and I see no reason why she cannot be made a member
of your Sunrise Camp Fire club."
Long ago Polly O'Neill had been fairly well known among her family and
friends for her quick temper, but the years and life's discipline had
taught her a measure of self-control.
She flushed now and bit her lips.
"Richard, you are not fair," she said finally. "I _do_ care for girls
and I _am_ sorry for this Miss Temple. But I cannot undertake to rescue
every girl who is in a difficulty. And as for making her a member of our
Camp Fire, I do wish you would try to understand something of the Camp
Fire organization. The guardian does not select the members of a Camp
Fire club. She may suggest a girl, but the choice really rests with the
other girls. I should never think of asking my group of girls to include
any one who is a stranger and might be wholly uncongenial. Besides,
there are certain tests before any girl can join the Camp Fire. How old
is this Juliet Temple?"
"Only eighteen, I believe. She wishes to be thought older; has been
forced to give the impression because of being obliged to earn her
living."
Not liking the suggestion of deceit and not having been attracted toward
the newcomer at their single brief meeting earlier in the day, Mrs.
Burton continued her walk, saying nothing more.
Finally she laid her hand on her husband's coat sleeve.
"Let's not quarrel, dear, when we have not been together in so long a
time. I shall never be able to like your Miss Temple if she has made you
angry with me."
"Nonsense, but here comes Aunt Patricia and I will ask her advice,
Polly. She is the greatest trump in the world and I owe her more than I
shall ever owe anyone for her devotion to you."
As Miss Patricia approached she was seen to be wearing a heavy, long
black coat and a soft gray felt hat belonging to one of the Camp Fire
girls which, perched on top of her head, gave her a rakish appearance.
Expecting to be ordered indoors, Mrs. Burton observed that Miss Patricia
was in a particularly softened mood, due probably to the arrival of
Captain Burton, to whom she was devoted.
"Polly is looking better, don't you think, Richard? Yet it has been very
difficult to persuade her to do the things she should."
Mrs. Burton slipped an arm through Miss Patricia's. Captain Burton took
her other arm and the three continued to promenade.
"Absurd, Aunt Patricia, I have been a perfect invalid! Some day you are
going to be sorry for all the unkind things you say about me! I wish you
would not just at present, because Richard probably will agree with
you."
Miss Patricia studied her two friends closely.
"Polly is not to be worried, Richard," she said finally.
The younger woman laughed.
"See, one can make anything useful, even ill health! Aunt Patricia, we
have not quarreled seriously. Our difficulty concerns the girl, Juliet
Temple, whom Richard brought to us last evening. I don't see just how
she is to fit into our household under the present circumstances, while
Richard has a different point of view."
"Yes," said Richard, "and I appeal to you, Aunt Patricia. After all,
Tahawus cabin belongs to you and not to Polly. Here I have been
attempting to play knight-errant and my wife declines to uphold me. A
sorry knight-errant indeed!"
Five minutes later Miss Patricia was saying conclusively:
"The girl shall stay here through the Christmas holidays. No one shall
be without a home and friends at such a season. It will be difficult I
know, Polly dear, but if you will talk to the Camp Fire girls they will
be kinder to Miss Temple than any request from me could make them.
Strange as it may seem to you, Richard, the Camp Fire girls are devoted
to Polly and she has an extraordinary influence over them all. But Polly
is quite right, we cannot consider asking the girl to become a member of
our Camp Fire until we discover whether or not the other girls like and
approve of her. You seem to know singularly little concerning your own
protégée, sir."
Mrs. Burton's laughter held a note of teasing, as Aunt Patricia's
directness was always amusing unless one chanced to be the victim.
"Yes, well, perhaps that is true, but she comes of excellent family, I
believe."
"I care little about family, the question is of the girl herself.
Remember, I was a poor Irish girl until my brother left me his fortune,
and have no aristocratic leanings. Polly and I will leave you and talk
to the girl herself. I have little opinion of a man's judgment in such a
case."
"What is the matter with Richard, Polly, he looks worried?" Miss
Patricia demanded as they moved away. "Is it a question of money?"
Mrs. Burton shook her head.
"I don't think so, Aunt Patricia, at least he said nothing to me."
Inside the cabin the Camp Fire girls were not visible at the present
time. Several of them were engaged with final Christmas preparations,
the others had gone for a walk with Betty Graham.
Inside the living-room, sitting alone by the fire, was the solitary girl
who had appeared so unceremoniously the evening before.
She was crouched on the floor upon a low stool looking in the flames
when Mrs. Burton and Miss Lord entered, but rose up hastily.
Unusually tall, although not so tall as Miss Patricia, Juliet Temple had
ash-colored brown hair and gray eyes and a shy, almost colorless manner.
"I am sorry to have intruded upon you in this fashion, Mrs. Burton," she
began. "I suddenly lost my position in Washington and Captain Burton was
so kind, I did not altogether realize what I was doing in coming to you
like this. Now I can see that you can have no possible use for me with
so many girls about you. If you will be kind enough to have some one
drive me back to the village I shall not trouble you further."
Mrs. Burton put out her hand toward the unknown visitor in a friendly
fashion.
"You will stay with us a few days in any case, won't you, Miss Temple?
Perhaps after all you may be able to do something for me, or for all of
us. Who knows? But in any event you must not think of leaving us until
we know that you go to friends, where you will be happy. Was there, by
chance, anything beside the loss of your position that made you wish to
leave Washington at once?"
The girl hesitated and then spoke quickly:
"Yes, there was a reason. May I tell you what it was before you decide
to allow me to stay with you even a short time?"
The girl's colorless face flushed warmly and her listless manner so
altered that Miss Patricia stared at her in surprise. In another moment
she became convinced that the newcomer had taken a sudden intense fancy
to Mrs. Burton. She had seen this same thing occur before. Moreover, she
doubtless had some romantic story that it pleased her to think of
confiding to so famous a woman as Mrs. Burton.
Miss Patricia straightway left the room.
The instant after Juliet Temple stood facing her companion.
"Mrs. Burton, allow me to tell you at once, while I have the courage. I
could not explain to Captain Burton, I did not feel I could to any human
being until I met you. I was accused of having stolen a small sum of
money from the department at which I was at work in Washington. It was
not true and yet I have only my word to give you. My father was an army
man and a distinguished officer during the Spanish war, so for his sake
and because the sum was small I was dismissed from my position instead
of being prosecuted. You can see now why I did not wish to appeal to
friends to whom I would have felt I must make this same confession."
The girl's expression scarcely altered save that she became a shade
paler and the lines about her mouth deepened.
"Why would it not have been wiser to have remained in Washington and
proved your innocence?" Mrs. Burton inquired, frowning a trifle and
wondering why her antagonism toward the girl had lessened rather than
been increased by her story.
Juliet Temple gave a despairing shrug to her shoulders.
"It would have been useless, I would not have been permitted to continue
at my work. I could not have lived on in Washington without money. I
have but little hope that I shall ever be cleared, yet if you think I am
guilty, and you have no reason to believe otherwise, you must let me go
away at once, this afternoon."
Mrs. Burton shook her head.
"No, I really wish you to stay, and I did not until this moment. At
least you must remain for a time until we learn to know whether we like
and trust each other."
Mrs. Burton held out her hand a second time and Juliet Temple touched
her lips to it without replying.