On Christmas eve Mollie and Betty each received notes written and signed
by Polly herself, postmarked New York City, accompanying small gifts.
Neither letter made any direct reference to what Polly herself was doing
nor showed that she had any knowledge of what was interesting her sister
or friend. Her information in regard to Mollie's presence in Boston, she
explained, had been received from her mother.
Well, of course, it was good news to hear that at least Polly was alive
and not altogether forgetful of her old affections, yet there was no
other satisfaction in the communications from her. Indeed the two
letters were much alike and on reading her own each girl felt much the
same emotion. They were loving enough and almost gay, yet the love did
not seem accompanied by any special faith to make it worth while, nor
did the gayety sound altogether sincere.
Betty's merely said:
"My Christmas thought is with you now and always, dear Princess.
Trust me and love me if you can. You may not approve of what I am
doing, but some day I shall try to explain it to you. I can't ask
you to write me unless you will send the letter to Mother and she
will forward it. Do nothing rash, dear Princess, Betty, friend,
while I am not near to look after you. Your always devoted Polly."
With a little laugh that was not altogether a cheerful one, Betty also
turned this letter over to Mollie. The two girls were in Betty's bedroom
with no one else present.
"Like Polly, wasn't it, to tell me not to do anything rash when she was
not around to run things?" Betty said with a shrug of her shoulders and
a little arching of her delicate brows.
Mollie looked at her admiringly. Betty had not seemed altogether as she
used to be in the first few days after her arrival, but recently, with
the coming of the holidays and the arrival of their old friends, she
certainly was as pretty as ever. Now she had on an ancient blue silk
dressing gown which was an especial favorite and her red-brown hair was
loose over her shoulders. The two friends were resting after a strenuous
day. In a few hours Esther was to give her first real dinner party and
they had all been working together toward the great event.
"But why should Polly warn you against rashness under any
circumstances?" Mollie returned, after having glanced over the note.
"You are not given to doing foolish things as she is. I suppose because
Polly is so dreadfully rash herself she believes the same of other
people."
There was no answer at first except that the Princess settled herself
more deeply in her big Morris chair. Mollie was lying on the bed near
by. Then she laughed again.
"Oh, you need not be so sure of my good sense, Mavourneen, as Polly used
to call you. I may not be rash in the same way that old Pollykins is,
perhaps because I have not the same courage, yet I may not be so far
away from it as you think. Only I wish Polly found my society as
necessary to her happiness as hers is to mine. I simply dread the
thought of a Christmas without her, and yet she is probably having a
perfectly blissful time somewhere with never a thought of us."
Hearing a sudden knock at their door at this instant Mollie tumbled off
the bed to answer it. Yet not before she had time to reply, "I am not so
sure Polly is as happy as you think." Then the little maid standing
outside in the hall thrust into her arms four boxes of flowers.
Nearly breathless with excitement Mollie immediately dropped them all
into her friend's lap.
"See what a belle you are, Betty Ashton!" she exclaimed. "Here you are
almost a stranger in Boston and yet being showered with attentions."
Gravely Betty read aloud the address on the first box.
"Miss Mollie O'Neill, care of Dr. Richard Ashton," she announced,
extending the package to the other girl with a mock solemnity and then
laughing to see Mollie's sudden blush and change of expression. A moment
later the second box, also inscribed with Mollie's name, was presented
her. But the final two were addressed to Betty, so that the division was
equal.
It was Mollie, however, who first untied the silver cord that bound the
larger of her two boxes, and Betty was quite sure that the roses inside
were no pinker or prettier than her friend's cheeks.
"They are from Billy," Mollie said without any hesitation or pretense of
anything but pleasure. "He says that he has sent a great many so that I
may wear them tonight and tomorrow and then again tomorrow night to the
dance, as I care for pink roses more than any flower. It was good of Meg
to ask Billy to come over for her College holiday dance. I should have
been dreadfully embarrassed with one of Meg's strange Harvard friends
for my escort. And Billy says he would have been abominably lonely in
Woodford with all of us away."
Mollie's second gift was a bunch of red and white carnations, bearing
Anthony Graham's card. "How kind of Anthony to remember me," she
protested, "when he was never a special friend of mine. But of course he
sent me the flowers because I happened to be yours and Esther's guest
and he is coming here to dinner tonight with Meg. But do please be less
slow and let me see what you have received."
For almost reluctantly Betty Ashton seemed to be opening her gifts.
Nevertheless she could not conceal a quick cry of admiration at what she
saw first. The box was an oblong purple one tied with gold ribbon. But
here at Christmastide, in the midst of Boston's cold and dampness, lay a
single great bunch of purple violets and another of lilies of the
valley. Hurriedly Betty picked up the card that lay concealed beneath
them. Just as Mollie's had, it bore Anthony Graham's name, and formal
good wishes, but something else as well which to any one else would have
appeared an absurdity. For it was a not very skilful drawing of a small
ladder with a boy at the foot of it.
"Gracious, it must be true that John is making a fortune in his broker
shop in Wall Street, as Meg assures me!" Betty exclaimed gayly the next
moment, thrusting her smaller box of flowers away, to peep into the
largest of the four offerings. "I did not realize John had yet arrived
in Boston, Meg was not sure he would be able to be with her for the
holidays. It is kind of him, I am sure, to remember me, isn't it Mollie?
And there is not much danger of my being unable to wear John's flowers
with any frock I have, he has sent such a variety. I believe I'll use
the mignonette tonight, it is so fragrant and unconventional."
Betty spoke almost sentimentally and this state of mind was so unusual
to her that for a moment Mollie only stared in silence. However, as her
friend disappeared into the bathroom to begin her toilet for the evening
Mollie remarked placidly, "The violets would look ever so much prettier
with your blue dress."
Esther's round mahogany table seated exactly twelve guests. On her right
was Richard Hunt, the actor, with Anthony Graham on her left, next him
was Meg, then Billy Webster and Mollie O'Neill. To the right of Dr.
Ashton, Margaret Adams had the place of honor, then came a Harvard law
student who was a special admirer of Meg's, then a new friend of
Esther's and then John Everett and Betty Ashton. As the entire
arrangement of the company had been made through Betty's suggestion,
doubtless she must have chosen the companions at dinner that she most
desired. Polly's friend, Richard Hunt, sat on her other side with Meg
and Anthony nearly opposite.
There had been no lack of cordiality on Betty's part toward any one of
their visitors. On Anthony's arrival with Meg Everett she had thanked
him for his gift in her most charming manner, but had made no reference
to the card which he had enclosed nor to the fact that she preferred
wearing other flowers than his. Meg was looking unusually pretty tonight
and very frankly Betty told her so. Her soft blond hair was parted on
the side with a big loose coil at the back and a black velvet ribbon
encircled her head. Professor Everett was not wealthy and Meg's college
education was costing him a good deal, therefore she had ordinarily only
a moderate sum of money for buying her clothes and no special talent for
making the best of them. However, this evening her dress had been a
Christmas gift from her brother John and, as it was of soft white silk
and lace, particularly becoming to Meg's pretty blondness. Her blue eyes
were shining with a kind of veiled light and her color came and went
swiftly. She seemed just as ingenuous and impulsive as she had ever
been, until it was difficult to know what must be the truth about her.
Several times during the evening Esther told herself sternly that of
course Meg had a perfect right to accept Anthony Graham's attentions if
she liked, for there had never been any definite understanding between
him and her sister, and indeed that she had disapproved of him in the
past. Yet now Anthony Graham, in spite of his origin, might have been
considered a good match for almost any girl. He was a distinguished
looking fellow, with his brilliant foreign coloring, his dark hair and
high forehead. Esther recalled having once felt keenly sorry for him
because the other girls and young men in their group of friends had not
considered him their social or intellectual equal. Now he was entirely
self-possessed and sure of himself. Yet he did seem almost too grave for
their happy Betty; possibly it was just as well he had transferred his
interest to Meg. No one could ever succeed in making Meg Everett serious
for any great length of time. She was still the same happy-go-lucky girl
of their old Camp Fire days whom "a higher education" was not altering
in the least. Yet the "higher education" may have given her subjects of
conversation worthy of discussing with Anthony, for certainly they spent
a great part of the time talking in low tones to each other.
Betty appeared in the gayest possible spirits and had never looked
prettier. Richard Hunt seemed delighted with her, and John Everett had
apparently returned to the state of admiration which he had always felt
when they had been boy and girl together in Woodford. Indeed Betty did
feel unusually animated and excited; she could hardly have known why
except that she had spent a rather dull winter and that she was
extremely excited at seeing her old friends again. And then she and Mr.
Hunt had so much to say to each other on a subject that never failed to
be interesting--Polly!
Neither he nor Miss Adams had the faintest idea of what had become of
that erratic young person, although Margaret Adams had also received a
Christmas letter from her. But where she was or what she was doing, no
one had the faintest idea. It was evident that Mr. Hunt highly
disapproved of Polly's proceedings, and although until the instant
before Betty had felt exactly as he did, now she rallied at once to her
friend's defense.
"Mr. Hunt, you must not think for an instant that Polly was ungrateful
either to Miss Adams or to you for your many kindnesses, only she had to
do things in her own Polly fashion, one that other people could not
exactly understand. But if one had ever been fond of Polly," Betty
insisted, "you were apt to keep on caring for her for some reason or
other which you could not exactly explain. Not that Polly was as pretty
or perhaps as sweet as Mollie."
Several times during the evening Betty had noticed that every now and
then her companion had glanced with interest toward Mollie O'Neill.
However, when he now agreed with her last statement; she was not sure
whether his agreement emphasized the fact of Mollie's superior
prettiness, or that Polly was an unforgettable character.
Without a doubt Esther's and Dick's first formal dinner party was a
pronounced success. The food was excellent, the two maids, one of whom
was hired for the occasion, served without a flaw. There was only one
trifling occurrence that might have created a slight disturbance, and
this situation fortunately Betty Ashton saw in time to save.
She happened to be sitting at the side of the table that faced the
windows. Earlier in the evening one of these windows had been opened in
order to cool the room and the curtain left partly up. The wind was not
particularly high and no one seemed to be inconvenienced. But most
unexpectedly toward the close of the dinner a gale must have sprung up.
Because there was a sudden, sharp noise at the window and without
warning the blind rolled itself to the topmost ledge with startling
abruptness, as if some one had pulled sharply at the cord and then let
go.
Then another noise immediately followed, not so startling but far more
puzzling. The first racket had caused every member of the little company
to start instinctively. Then at the same instant, before Richard Ashton,
who chanced to be pouring a glass of water for Margaret Adams, could get
up from his place, Betty turned to Richard Hunt. John Everett happened
to be talking to his other neighbor at the moment.
"Mr. Hunt," Betty asked quickly, "won't you please close that window for
us? It is too cold to have it open and besides one does not altogether
like the idea that outside persons might be able to look into the room."
Perhaps Richard Hunt was just a moment longer at the window in the
performance of so simple a task than one might have expected, but no one
observed it.
As he took his place again and Betty thanked him she looked at him with
a slight frown.
"Did you see a ghost, Mr. Hunt?" she queried. "It is not a comfortable
night even for a ghost to be prowling about. It is too lonely an
occupation for Christmas eve."
Richard Hunt smiled at his companion in return. "Oh, I am always seeing
ghosts, Miss Ashton," he answered; "I suppose it is because I have an
actor's vivid imagination."