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BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK
THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES
The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge
The Ranch Girls' Pot of Gold
The Ranch Girls at Boarding School
The Ranch Girls in Europe
The Ranch Girls at Home Again
The Ranch Girls and their Great Adventure
THE RED CROSS GIRLS SERIES
The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches
The Red Cross Girls on the French Firing Line
The Red Cross Girls in Belgium
The Red Cross Girls with the Russian Army
The Red Cross Girls with the Italian Army
The Red Cross Girls Under the Stars and Stripes
STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS
The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill
The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows
The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World
The Camp Fire Girls Across the Sea
The Camp Fire Girls' Careers
The Camp Fire Girls in After Years
The Camp Fire Girls in the Desert
The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail
[Illustration: Sally and Lieutenant Fleury were Walking Side by Side
Away from the Farm House.]
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON THE FIELD OF HONOR
BY
MARGARET VANDERCOOK
Author of "The Ranch Girls" Series, "The Red Cross Girls" Series, etc.
ILLUSTRATED
PHILADELPHIA
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1918, by
The John C. Winston Company
STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS
List of Titles in the Order of their Publication
The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill
The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows
The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World
The Camp Fire Girls Across the Sea
The Camp Fire Girls' Careers
The Camp Fire Girls in After Years
The Camp Fire Girls at the Edge of the Desert
The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail
The Camp Fire Girls Behind the Lines
The Camp Fire Girls on the Field of Honor
CONTENTS
I. An Old House 7
II. Explanations 24
III. "A Long Time Going Over There" 39
IV. Chaperoning the Chaperon 47
V. The Confession 66
VI. A French Farm House on the Field of Honor 78
VII. Becoming Adjusted 98
VIII. The Old Chateau 113
IX. A Mystery 126
X. Breakers Ahead 138
XI. The Return 154
XII. Other Days and Other Ways 165
XIII. A Departure and an Arrival 176
XIV. A Warning 193
XV. The Discovery 205
XVI. An Unexpected Shelter 223
XVII. Two Officers 233
XVIII. The Expected Happens 254
XIX. The Field of Honor 263
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Sally and Lieutenant Fleury were Walking Side By
Side away from the Farm House Frontispiece
Have You Nothing Better to do than Steal? 14
The Figure Was that of a Young Soldier 122
She and Old Jean Took an Entirely Opposite
Direction 208
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON THE FIELD OF HONOR
CHAPTER I
AN OLD HOUSE
There are certain old houses in New York City built of rose-colored
brick and white stone which face Washington Square.
On this morning in early winter a light snow covered the ground and
clung to the bare branches of the shrubs and trees.
In a drawing-room of one of the old houses a young girl was moving
quietly about at work. She was alone and the room was almost entirely
dismantled, the pictures having been taken down from the walls, the
decorations stored away and the furniture protected by linen covers.
The girl herself was wearing an odd costume, a long frock made like a
peasant's smock with an insignia of two crossed logs and a flame
embroidered upon one sleeve. With her dark eyes, her dark, rather coarse
hair, which she wore parted in the middle over a low forehead, and her
white, unusually colorless skin, she suggested a foreigner.
Nevertheless, although her mother and father were born in Russia, Vera
Lagerloff was not a foreigner. However, at this moment she was talking
quietly to herself in a foreign tongue, yet the language she was making
an attempt to practice was French and not Russian. Since the entry of
the United States into the world war, New York City had been exchanging
peoples as well as material supplies with her Allies to so large an
extent that _one_ language was no longer sufficient even for the
requirements of one's own country.
Finally, still reciting her broken sentences almost as if she were
rehearsing a part in a play, Vera walked over to a front window and
stood gazing expectantly out into the Square as if she were looking for
some one.
It was about three o'clock in the afternoon and the neighborhood was
almost deserted. In the paths beyond the Washington Arch a few children
were playing. Now and then an occasional man or woman passed along the
street, to vanish into a house or apartment building.
A few taxis and private cars rolled by, but not one made even a pretence
of stopping before the rose-colored brick house.
After about five minutes of waiting, sighing and then, smiling at her
own folly, the girl turned away and began slowly to climb up the old
colonial stairs leading to the second floor.
"When will human beings cease demanding the impossible?" she asked of
herself, yet speaking aloud. "I know that Mrs. Burton and Bettina cannot
arrive for another half hour, nevertheless I am wasting both time and
energy watching for their appearance."
During the past month Vera Lagerloff had been the guest of Mrs. Richard
Burton in her New York home. Together they had been closing the house
for an indefinite period and making their final arrangements for sailing
for France. Within a few days the American Sunrise Camp Fire unit, with
Mrs. Burton as their guardian, was to set sail to help with the work of
reclamation in the devastated area of France and also to establish the
first group of Camp Fire girls ever recognized upon French soil.
Since their summer "Behind the Lines" in southern California, Vera had
been studying with these two purposes in mind.
In the front of the house on the second floor Mrs. Burton's private
sitting-room was to be left undisturbed until the day of her departure,
and it was toward this room Vera was making her way.
Except for the two servants, man and wife, engaged only a short time
before, who were presumably busy downstairs, she supposed herself alone.
Now as she approached the sitting-room, through the open door she caught
sight of the blue and silver of the walls, a pair of old blue curtains
and a tea-table decorated with a tea-service and a blue bowl of yellow
jonquils. Then an unlooked-for sensation made the girl pause within a
few feet on the far side of the threshold, almost holding her breath,
for she had the extraordinary impression that the room she had presumed
empty was already occupied.
The next instant Vera discovered that a man was standing in front of a
small mahogany desk endeavoring to break into a locked drawer. He had
not heard her approach, for he did not turn toward her, nevertheless she
immediately recognized the man and the situation. The day before, in
order to meet the expenses of the journey to France, Mrs. Burton had
drawn a large sum of money from bank, placing it in her desk for safe
keeping. To the members of her own household she had made no secret of
this, and now one of them was taking advantage of his knowledge.
Vera recognized that she must think and act quickly, or it might be
possible that all their hopes and plans for service in France would
vanish in one tragic instant.
In the bedroom in the rear of the hall she knew there was a telephone.
Yet the moments occupied in having the telephone answered and in calling
the police seemed interminable. In far less time surely the thief must
have accomplished his design!
Yet naturally after her call had been answered Vera knew she must return
to make sure and equally naturally she feared to face the man were he
still upstairs.
In the right hand corner of Mrs. Burton's dressing table was a silver
mounted pistol. This had been Captain Burton's parting gift to his wife
before his own departure for Europe a few weeks before. Vera distinctly
remembered her own and Mrs. Burton's nervousness over the gift and
Captain Burton's annoyance. They were about to make their home in a
devastated country recently occupied by the enemy and yet were afraid of
so simple a method of self-protection! Vera had shared in Captain
Burton's lecture and in his instructions.
Moreover, ordinarily she was not timid, but instead possessed a singular
feminine courage. So an instant later, holding the small pistol partly
concealed by her skirt, Vera slipped noiselessly back again into the
hall, moving along in the shadow near the wall. Within a few feet of the
sitting-room suddenly the thief appeared in the doorway. The next
instant, startled by her appearance, he made a headlong rush down the
stairs with his purpose too nearly accomplished to think of surrender.
As Vera followed she wondered if, when the thief reached the front door,
where he must pause in opening it, would she then have the courage to
fire? Much as she desired to secure the stolen money, she felt the
instinctive feminine dislike of wounding another human being.
Yet now she discovered that, in spite of having failed to notice the
fact on her way upstairs, the front door was not locked. It had been
purposely left slightly ajar so that there need be no dangerous delay.
But before the thief actually reached the front door majestically it was
flung open. From the outside a voice called "Halt."
[Illustration: "Have You Nothing Better to do than Steal?"]
Immediately after, instead of a policeman as she anticipated, Vera
beheld one of the most singular figures she had ever seen. For the
moment, in her excitement and confusion, she could not tell whether the
figure was a woman's or a man's. A long arm was thrust forward, then,
such was the thief's surprise, that he allowed the stolen pocketbook to
be removed from his grasp without opposition.
As Vera regained sufficient equanimity to cover him with her pistol she
heard a rich Irish voice unmistakably a woman's, saying:
"Sure, man alive and have you nothing better to do than steal when the
world is so hard put for honest soldiers and workmen to carry on her
affairs. Now get you away and pray the saints to forgive you, for the
next time you'll not be let off so easily."
Glad to take the newcomer at her word, the man vanished. Then before
Vera could either move or speak, the surprising visitor marched up to
her.
"Put that pistol away, child, and never handle it again, or you will
injure yourself! Now take me upstairs to Polly Burton's sitting-room and
make me some tea, for the plain truth is I am famished. I have just
arrived in New York from Boston, and travel in war times certainly has
its drawbacks. But if you will wait I'll first bring my suitcase inside
the hall until we feel more like carrying it upstairs."
Before Vera could offer her assistance a shabby suitcase was brought
indoors.
Immediately after she found herself, not leading the way, but following
the unexpected intruder to the second floor. Evidently the elderly woman
was familiar with the house, for she made her way directly to the
sitting-room and, seating herself upon the divan, began untying her
bonnet strings.
In spite of her own confusion and excitement and the visitor's
surprising appearance, Vera believed herself in the presence of an
important personage. She understood this, notwithstanding the fact that
the woman's costume was conspicuously shabby and she herself extremely
plain.
The bonnet which she removed without waiting to be asked followed a
fashion of about a quarter of a century before. When her traveling coat
had been laid aside the black dress underneath was almost equally
old-fashioned in design.
"Here, child, please take this money and hide it in the same place, or
find a safer one," she announced. "Yet it may be just as well not to
mention the robbery to Polly Burton. She is sure to need more strength
than she possesses to be able to start on this perilous journey to
France almost at the beginning of winter, with only you foolish children
as her companions. Besides, I presume Polly left the money in the most
conspicuous place in the house; she never has learned not to trust the
entire world. I allowed the thief to escape so we need give no further
time to him. But tell me the whole story--who are you, how did the man
get into the house and why are you here alone?"
At last, in the first opportunity which had been vouchsafed her, Vera
endeavored to explain what had occurred. As she spoke she could feel
herself being observed with the keenest, most searching scrutiny. Yet
for some reason, although never having heard the name or seen her
companion before, she had no thought of disputing her visitor's right to
whatever information she desired. The dark eyes in the weather-beaten
old face were wise and kind; the manner belonged to a woman accustomed
to being obeyed.
Later Vera and her guest made a careful tour of the lower part of the
house. Of course the cook had vanished soon after her husband. But they
were downstairs in time to meet the police when they finally made their
appearance.
Vera opened the door, yet she stood aside to hear her companion
announce.
"You can go away again. No, we have no need of you, the telephone call
was a mistake."
Finally when the police had disappeared without requiring a great deal
of persuasion, for the second time Vera followed her unknown companion
upstairs.
"You understand, child, it would have been the greatest interruption to
our present plans if I had not permitted the thief to escape. Some one
would have had to appear in court and doubtless Polly Burton would have
had newspaper reporters coming to the house at all hours. They would
have liked a story in which a woman of her prominence played a part."
Fifteen minutes later, having presented the unexpected guest with the
tea she had requested, Vera was sitting beside the tea table waiting to
satisfy her further needs, when she caught the sound of a key being
turned in the lock of the front door downstairs and the next instant
Mrs. Burton's voice, followed by Bettina Graham's, calling for her.
With a hurried apology and really fearful that her autocratic companion
might attempt to detain her, Vera ran out of the room.
Over the banisters she could see Bettina Graham, who had just arrived
from Washington, and Mrs. Burton, who had gone down to the Pennsylvania
station to meet her.
Standing near Bettina was a girl whom Vera had never seen before.
As soon as she joined them Bettina introduced her explaining:
"Vera, this is Mary Gilchrist, who is going abroad to drive a motor in
France. She had no friends with whom she could cross, and as we were
intending to sail on the same steamer, I suggested when we met in
Washington the other day that she might like to join our Camp Fire unit.
At the depot I introduced her to Tante, who of course insisted that she
come home with us rather than stay in a hotel alone."
During this conversation, Mrs. Richard Burton, the Sunrise Camp Fire
guardian of former days, having passed by the group of girls, was making
her way upstairs alone. She had moved so quickly that, in her effort to
be polite to Bettina's new friend, Vera had no opportunity to mention
the presence of another stranger in the house. When she did murmur
something, Mrs. Burton did not hear.
Reaching her own sitting-room she gazed uncertainly for half an instant
at the tall figure on the divan, who, having poured herself another cup
of tea, was now engaged in drinking it. The next she clasped her hands
together and with a manner suggesting both nervousness and apology,
began.
"Aunt Patricia, please don't say you have come to argue with me about
taking my group of Sunrise Camp Fire girls to work with me in the
devastated area of France. It is really too late now to interfere. I was
finally able to secure my husband's permission."
Miss Patricia Lord carefully set down her tea-cup.
"Come and kiss me, Polly Burton, and tell me you are glad to see me. I
don't like your fashion of greeting an unexpected guest. But there--you
look tired out from too much responsibility before it is time to set
sail! As a matter of fact, I have not come to try to _prevent_ your
going to France. Has anybody ever made you give up anything you had
firmly set your heart upon? But, mavourneen, I have come to go with you.
Do you suppose for a moment, after receiving yours and Richard's letters
telling me of your plans, that I dreamed of allowing you to undertake
such a project as you have in mind alone? Why, you won't be able to look
after yourself properly, to say nothing of more than half a dozen young
girls! I am told there are eight hundred and forty thousand homeless
people in the devastated districts of France at the present time and I
cannot understand why you wish to add to the number. But as you will go,
well, I am determined to go with you."
A moment later, seated close beside the older woman, Mrs. Burton had
slipped an arm inside hers and was holding it close.
"Oh, Aunt Patricia, I am so relieved," she murmured. "I have not
confided this fact to any one before, but sometimes I have been so
nervous over the prospect of looking after my group of Camp Fire girls
in France that I have wanted to run away and hide where no one could
ever discover me. Of course I am not afraid of disaster for myself,
Richard is in France and then nothing ever happens to me! Besides, no
one has a right to think of oneself at present. But to be responsible to
so many mothers for the safety of their beloved daughters! I rise up
each morning feeling that my hair must have turned white in the night
from the very thought. But if you are with me, why, I will not worry!
Still I don't see just how you can arrange to sail with us; perhaps you
can manage to cross later, but our passage has been engaged for weeks
and----"
Miss Patricia Lord arose and walked over to the tea table, where she
devoted her energy to pouring her hostess a cup of tea.
"You need not trouble about _my_ arrangements, Polly. I secured my
ticket on the steamer upon which you are to sail some time ago and also
my passport. I sent my trunk directly to the boat. Of course I am taking
but few clothes with me, as a matter of fact, I have all I shall require
in my suitcase downstairs. But later there will be many things necessary
for our housekeeping in France of which you may not have thought."