EXPLANATIONS
"Bettina, who on earth is Miss Patricia Lord? A more formidable lady I
never imagined!"
Sitting before a fire in their bedroom, which they had chosen to share
so as to be able to talk for as long a time as they wished before
retiring, were the two Sunrise Camp Fire girls, Bettina Graham and Vera
Lagerloff. Both girls had changed conspicuously in manner and appearance
since the summer before when they had been in camp together "Behind the
Lines" in southern California. However, there comes a day in every
girl's life when with entire suddenness she seems to understand and
accept the revelation of her womanhood.
To Bettina Graham had been given an added social experience. During the
past few months, without being formally introduced into society,
nevertheless she had been assisting her mother in receiving in their
home in Washington. In spite of the fact that there had been but little
entertaining on a large scale because of the war, Bettina had gone to
occasional dinners and small dances, and on account of her father's
prominence and her mother's popularity, had shared in the best
opportunities. Moreover, Washington had never been so crowded with
interesting men and women, and yet scarcely a day passed when Bettina
did not whisper to herself that nothing could make her enjoy a
conventional society existence. It was only because of the universal
absorption in the war at the present time that society had become more
endurable. But to continue the life indefinitely demanded an impossible
sacrifice.
One afternoon in late fall Bettina and her father, Senator Graham, in an
hour of mutual confidence, imparted the information to each other that
they regarded themselves as social failures.
"You see, Bettina, my dear, I was not to the manner born in this social
game and had no one to teach me until I married your mother," Senator
Graham announced with a certain embarrassment. "Indeed, I never had
entered a drawing-room until I was a grown man and then had not the
faintest idea how the confounded thing should be done. You don't think
you could have inherited a social awkwardness from me?"
Then, fearing to have wounded his daughter's feelings Senator Graham
added quickly: "I don't mean that you have not charming manners, little
Betty, as charming as any in the world aside from your mother's. And
personally I have not seen a prettier girl in Washington or elsewhere.
But if you really are unhappy among strangers and would like to go to
France with your old friends to help with the work over there, why, I
will try to see how matters can be arranged. I don't think I would speak
of your idea to your mother, not just at present, as there is no point
in worrying her."
In answer Bettina had laughed and promised. Always she was touched by
her father's use of her old childhood name now that she had become
nearly as tall as he himself was.
"But, father, don't think I mind sharing a social disability with you. I
am afraid my infirmity goes somewhat deeper," Bettina answered. "As a
matter of fact, I heard one of mother's friends say the other day that
there was no more brilliant or agreeable man in Washington society than
Senator Graham, once he could be persuaded to throw aside his social
hauteur and condescend to ordinary mortals," she continued, imitating
the visitor's voice and manner, to the Senator's deep amusement.
"But of course I won't annoy mother until I am sure our Camp Fire unit
has a real chance of being accepted for the work in France. It is hard
upon mother to have had Tony inherit all the family beauty and charm.
However, he will make up to her some day for my failures!"
Bettina was doing herself an injustice. In reality she was unusually
handsome and as she grew older her tall stateliness increased her
distinction. Tonight she looked especially attractive as she sat
braiding her long yellow hair into two heavy plaits, with a blue
corduroy dressing gown worn over her night-dress.
"Aunt Patricia? It is odd, Vera, you have never heard her name
mentioned! Yet I confess my personal acquaintance with Aunt Patricia
also began this afternoon, although I have known of her for a long time
and my mother is one of her great friends.
"Years ago when Tante was first married Aunt Patricia arrived in this
country from Ireland, and as she seemed to be frightfully poor she
secured a position at the theatre as wardrobe woman. Right away she
adopted Tante and Uncle Richard and they have been devoted to one
another ever since. Later on Aunt Patricia's brother died, leaving her
an enormous fortune. Then it developed that she had come to this country
from Ireland because he had sent for her and afterwards had refused to
live with him or accept a cent of his money because he would not do what
she wished, or because for some reason or other she disapproved of him.
"After Aunt Patricia inherited the money she has spent as little as
possible for her own needs, but instead gives away large sums in
eccentric fashions which appeal to her. Nevertheless I confess I am not
happy over the prospect of her going to France to be with us, although
Tante seems immensely relieved to have her companionship and our
families will be glad to know she will not have to bear so much
responsibility alone. It is a good deal of a task to look after seven or
eight girls."
Vera frowned somewhat ruefully.
"But I thought we were going to France to care for other people not to
be looked after ourselves. However, if Miss Lord's behavior this
afternoon is a fair criterion I shall certainly become as a little
child. For the entire time we were together I don't think I dared do
anything except what she commanded. But isn't it wonderful that our
entire Camp Fire unit is to go to France for the reclamation work? I
thought when Mrs. Burton offered me the opportunity last summer that I
should go alone."
Within the past months Vera Lagerloff had also changed, but the
transformation was unlike Bettina Graham's.
After Billy Webster's death in California Vera had made astonishingly
little open protest. But for that reason the effect upon her character
had been the deeper.
Since her earliest childhood there had been but little in her life for
which she cared intensely, save her friendship with the odd dreaming
boy, whose ambitions for his own future had absorbed so much of her time
and thought. Until Billy died Vera really had never considered her own
future apart from his.
In many ways she was superior to the members of her own family, which in
itself makes for a certain spiritual loneliness. Yet her parents were
Russians, and Russia is at present offering more contradictions in human
nature than any other race of people in the world. However, if her
parents were peasants and had but little education, they had possessed
sufficient courage to emigrate to the United States at a time when the
Czar and autocracy ruled in their own land. Afterwards Vera's father had
become a small farmer on Mr. Webster's large place, and here Vera and
Billy had grown up together.
But at least Vera's family made no effort to interfere with her. The
other children appeared content to follow in the ways of their
ancestors, living with and by the land. In a measure they were proud
that Vera cared for books and people who could never be their friends.
Yet perhaps Vera's character had been largely influenced by her one
singular friendship.
Now it remained to be seen what she could accomplish with her own life
uninspired by a dominating affection.
She was an unusual looking girl, and not handsome according to
Anglo-Saxon standards. She was tall and ruggedly built, with broad
shoulders and hips, indicating strength more than grace. Her heavy dark
hair, growing low over her forehead, had a unique quality of vitality.
Her nose and mouth were both a little heavy, although her mouth gave
promise of future beauty, and she had the fine Slavic eyes with the
slight slant.
Vera and Bettina afforded a marked contrast. The one girl, whatever her
brilliant father might say of his antecedents, showed only the evidences
of high breeding, both its charm and limitations. Yet, thinking more
deeply, was not after all Vera's the older ancestry since the first men
and women must have been those who lived nearest to nature?
At this moment, when the one girl finished speaking, leaning over
Bettina rested her chin in her slender hand. She had not seen Vera for
some time and was now trying to discover in her companion's face what
she knew would never be confided to her, to what extent Vera had
recovered from her sorrow over Billy Webster's death.
But instead of speaking of this, Bettina continued:
"Yes, it is extraordinary that our entire Camp Fire unit is so soon to
cross over to France. I only wish the rest of us were as well prepared
for the work as you are, Vera. You have been studying cooking and the
care of children, besides the first aid and the farm work, which you
must have known already? I was able to find time for only a short period
of intensive study. Yet fortunately I know a good deal of French. Ever
since I was a tiny child I have been speaking French and certainly I am
familiar with our Camp Fire training and ideals. I only learned recently
that, although there are organizations similar to our Camp Fire in
England, China, Japan and Australia, there is none in France. Is it not
a wonderful thing that we are to be the pioneers of the Camp Fire
movement in France? Don't you feel that if we can arouse sufficient
enthusiasm among the French girls to induce them to form a national
organization it will bring American and French girls into closer touch
with each other?
"Do you know, Vera, so many times in the past year I have heard
prominent men in Washington declare that the French, British, Italians
and Americans, having fought together on common ground for a common
ideal, can never in the future be anything but brothers in spirit. Yet
never once have I heard any one speak of the same need for intimate
association among the women of the different nations. Why is this not
equally important? The women of the future must also acquire something
of the new international spirit, must also learn to work and play
together. I think our Camp Fire embodies all these inspiring principles
and ideas for girls, and so I hope our work in France may be the
beginning of an international Camp Fire organization all over the
world."
Vera Lagerloff, who had apparently been watching the flickering yellow
and rose flames in their tiny fire while Bettina talked, now looked
toward her and smiled.
"Be careful, Bettina, you are a dreamer. Remember, the world has room
for but a few dreamers. I suppose that is why Billy went away. After
all, you know it is the small, hard sacrifices that are required of
women and girls in time of war."
Then getting up, Vera began walking up and down the room as if finding
relief in action.
"By the way, Bettina, have you heard the latest news from Gerry
Williams?--oh, I should have said Gerry Morris, I forgot her married
name." Vera went on, apparently desiring to change the subject: "She
hopes to see us after we reach our headquarters in France, if she and
her father-in-law are not too far away. I have sometimes wondered if Mr.
Morris did not give the money he had recently inherited to help with the
restoration work in France as a thank offering because Felipe was
required to serve only a short sentence for having tried to escape the
draft? Soon after he was permitted to enlist. Mr. Morris and Gerry are
living in one of the tiny ruined villages, assisting the old men and
women and children to rebuild their little homes."
Bettina frowned, hardly aware that her expression had become slightly
skeptical.
"Yes, I was told that Gerry had sailed with her father-in-law, although
so far as I know Felipe is still in an American training camp," Bettina
replied. "But, Vera, I am not yet an enthusiast over Gerry. However, as
we have never liked each other, perhaps I am not fair. I do not believe
that people's natures ever entirely change, even if circumstances do
affect one for a time. So I shall have to behold the miracle of a
transformed Gerry before I am convinced of the change I am told has
taken place in her."
At this instant Bettina suddenly ceased speaking because a faint knock
had just sounded on their bedroom door.
When Vera opened the door another girl stood outside. She was small and
dark and had an upward tilt to her nose and indeed to her entire face.
"I know this is the hour for confidences and so I won't interrupt you
long," she began. "Only I thought it might be just as well if I present
you with a short outline of my history. Miss Graham was kind enough to
allow me to travel to Washington with her after meeting me at the home
of a mutual friend. She does not know much about me, so I think she is
especially kind. But perhaps we girls are beginning to take one another
more for granted! As a matter of fact, my name is Mary Gilchrist,
although I am usually called 'Gill' by my friends, because my father
insists I am so small I represent the smallest possible measure. I have
no mother and have spent all my life with my father on our big Wheat
ranch in Kansas. I suppose I should have been a boy, because I adore
machinery and have been driving a car for years, even before the law
would have permitted me to drive one. Of course I only motored over our
ranch at first. Now I am hoping I can be useful in France. For the last
few years I have been able to manage a tractor for the plowing and
harvesting of our fields. My father has given me my own motor to take to
France. He said he could do nothing less, since he had no son to devote
to his country's service and, as he was too old to fight himself, felt
he could do his best work in increasing our output of wheat. But I did
not intend saying so much about myself, only to thank you and Mrs.
Burton for agreeing to allow me to make the crossing with you. I shall
try not to be a nuisance. Good-night."
Then actually before Vera or Bettina could reply the other girl
vanished. Yet she left behind her an affect of energy and warmth, her
glowing, piquant face, the red lights in her brown hair, even the
freckles on her clear, lightly tanned skin gave one the impression that
courage and action were essential traits of her character.
After she had gone Vera smiled.
"Well Bettina, I believe your new friend is original, whatever else she
may be."
And Bettina nodded in agreement.