The Dance
The next day Mrs. Burton announced that having written her husband she
would await his reply before reaching an absolutely definite decision in
regard to their presentation of "As You Like It." In the meantime she
insisted that the whole question of the performance be neither thought
of nor discussed.
Appreciating that he had grown too old to make a valuable soldier and
yet unwilling to be left out of war service, Mrs. Burton's husband,
Richard Burton, had taken the necessary examinations and had received a
commission in the Ordnance Department. He was now stationed at a
southern camp.
Despite the Camp Fire guardian's request, there was a good deal of
speculation among the girls concerning the possible outcome of their
hopes. During the following day they were too much absorbed by the
prospect immediately before them to give much time to the consideration
of the future.
Having arranged a small dance and invited a number of soldiers from the
nearby camp to be their guests, the girls had promised to do whatever
work was necessary for their entertainment. This included the cooking of
the party food as well as the other arrangements. But by this time,
after several summers of camping life, each girl considered that she had
become an artist in the preparation of one or more superior dishes.
Ordinarily the most indolent of the girls, on occasions of especial
festivity Sally Ashton always assumed supreme command of the cooking. It
was Sally who, with Gerry and Vera as her assistants, made both the
bread and cake, articles of food of particular importance.
In the present menu she was especially interested, as recently she had
been experimenting with a number of new war recipes, finding them
extremely successful. Now Sally wished to repeat the recipes for a
larger company than their Camp Fire group.
Having by this time recovered from her accident, secretly Sally Ashton
felt that she was being repaid for what she had suffered. She had
secured a very agreeable new acquaintance, who showed the symptoms Sally
so well understood of becoming one of her many admirers. The young man
was Merton Anderson, who had been a guest at the Morris ranch and had
ridden over to camp with the news of the accident.
Since then, with Mr. Morris and Felipe Morris, he had made several calls
upon Mrs. Burton and ostensibly upon her group of Camp Fire girls.
However, after Merton Anderson's first visit, Sally appreciated that the
rest of his calls were due to her presence. No one could have explained
how she managed, not even Sally herself, yet she had a fashion of seeing
and conquering almost immediately both young men and old. No one ever
observed her making an effort to attract attention. She was even
unusually demure; nevertheless the attraction was going on in a subtle
and scientific fashion.
Of Felipe Morris' attitude toward her, Gerry Williams was by no means so
assured. Not since their original meeting at his home had she an
opportunity of speaking to him alone, nor had she made the effort to
secure such an opportunity. For some reason Gerry felt a certain shyness
toward her new acquaintance, almost as if she were afraid of the
influence he might be able to exert upon her.
Certainly she had no idea of making an appointment to meet him anywhere
alone. Apart from the fact that Mrs. Burton would not approve, Gerry had
been trained in a sufficiently hard school of experience to recognize
the lack of wisdom in such a proceeding. If she wished Felipe to like
her especially, and she was by no means sure at this time that she did
wish it, then she must not allow herself to become cheapened in his
eyes. Social conventions Gerry understood were of value and more
especially to a girl in her position. However, Felipe had appeared to be
courteous, although extraordinarily determined upon securing his own
way.
In return for their kindness and also because she liked both young men,
Mrs. Burton had invited Felipe Morris and Merton Anderson to their Camp
Fire entertainment. The entertainment was to be more than an ordinary
dance, since the guests had been invited to a swimming party in the
afternoon, then dinner and the dance later.
Since the girls were to spend a portion of the afternoon in swimming,
most of the preparations for their party necessarily had to be made
beforehand. Mrs. Webster had promised to look after final details, and
also there was Marie, who was temperamental, but who could be relied
upon to accomplish marvels when she was in the proper mood. Since the
entry of the United States into the war, Marie, who was an ardent French
woman, had adopted the American soldier as her especial protege.
Moreover, on the morning before their dance Alice Ashton and Peggy
Webster had motored into town, purchasing the provisions they considered
too troublesome to prepare. They bought two roast hams and a roast of
beef and half a dozen varieties of fruit. Their menu was to consist of
cold meats, baked beans, which were a Camp Fire speciality, roast
potatoes and corn, which could be cooked over the outdoor fire,
cornbread, fruit salad, coffee and cake.
In the afternoon the girls were to wear their Camp Fire bathing suits,
but at night they had concluded to appear in white dresses, with their
honor beads, almost as beautiful and as effective as jewels.
The ceremonial Camp Fire costumes were somewhat too heavy and too warm
for dancing on a midsummer night in a semi-tropical land.
The girls were naturally a trifle shy over the prospect of guests,
nearly all of whom were complete strangers. Among them were only two
with whom they had any previous acquaintance. They were Lieutenant
Geoffrey Carson and Private George Ferguson, the soldiers who were aided
after an accident in their motor car, by the Camp Fire girls during
their riding trip down the coast.
Two of the soldiers were members of one of the regimental bands and had
promised to play for the dancers, since the girls possessed only a
much-used victrola and were too far off in the country to be able to
engage the services of professional musicians.
No dance could have been less conventional, when for one thing the
white, smooth sands of the beach below the camp were to serve as the
ballroom floor.
Truly here indeed were the colors of romance, the moon and the sea,
youth and a wind-swept shore!
That night, dancing with Felipe Morris, Gerry believed that she had
never been so happy.
With his Southern ancestry and musical gifts, naturally Felipe was a
wonderful dancer, possessing an almost perfect sense of rhythm and time.
On one occasion Gerry and Felipe discovered that they were actually
dancing alone, their companions having stopped for a moment to watch
them. Then they were only brought to a realization of what had taken
place by hearing Mrs. Burton cry: "Bravo!" and afterwards the applause
of a dozen pairs of hands.
[Illustration: On One Occasion Gerry and Felipe Discovered that They
were Actually Dancing Alone]
A little while before Felipe had lifted their right arms and he and
Gerry had danced in and out in semi-circles until they formed the petals
of a flower; reaching the center they revolved slowly in a circle, until
almost ceasing to move.
Mrs. Burton decided that seldom had she seen a more enchanting
picture--Gerry with her delicate blonde prettiness, Felipe Morris so
complete a contrast. But then a great deal may have been due to the
effect of the outdoor scene and the moonlight!
Before midnight, after dancing for several hours and after their long
afternoon swim, the dancers must have grown weary, for they wandered off
and sat down in little groups on the sand.
This was Gerry's and Felipe's opportunity, for at once Felipe led her to
a place where they were in sight of the others and yet where they could
not be overheard.
The rock Felipe had chosen rose above an amethyst carpet of sea verbena
where Gerry sat enthroned while he lay down on the floral carpet.
Felipe could adopt an attitude of careless grace with more assurance
than the usual American youth. Indeed, he looked utterly unlike any of
the other young men who were the guests of the Camp Fire girls this
night.
They wore their uniforms and were bronzed and fit.
At this time the soldiers of the National Guard were beginning slowly to
fill their new military camps, as they were to be the first regiments
ordered to France after the regular army had crossed. The drafted men
were not yet ready for service. During this memorable first summer,
after the entry of the United States into the war, the lists of the
drafted men were being prepared with great difficulty.
Therefore no one of the soldier guests questioned Felipe Morris'
position. It was presumed that he and Merton Anderson were in the
attitude of waiting for their call to the colors.
Among the small company only Gerry and Mrs. Burton and Merton Anderson
were aware of Felipe's attempt to claim exemption. Naturally the matter
was not one that he cared to discuss with strangers, and more especially
not with young men near his own age, who had volunteered rather than
wait for the drafting.
However, Felipe was at present pleasantly sure of Gerry's sympathy.
"Fine looking soldiers, our American warriors!" he began in a lazy,
good-humored tone, which nevertheless held a slight suggestion of
disparagement. "I suppose one ought to rejoice that there are some men
among us who have the masculine passion for fighting so long as the
Kaiser's Huns are still abroad in the world. But personally I don't feel
I should make a success as a soldier."
Such a conversation would not have made the slightest impression upon
any one of the Sunrise Hill Camp Fire girls except Gerry.
It was obvious that Felipe preferred some one else to shoulder his
responsibility and do his duty. Selfishness is neither original nor
unique!
But Gerry was not given to deep reflection and was already more under
her companion's influence than she realized.
"When are we going to have a meeting together somewhere off to
ourselves?" Felipe asked. "There are so many things I want to talk to
you about; it is tantalizing to see you for only a few moments at a time
now and then. Why can't you come over and stay again at the ranch? My
father does nothing but read war news all day and either Shakespeare or
Cervantes in the evening, so we would be virtually alone."
The prospect sounded alluring to Gerry, nevertheless she slowly shook
her head.
"I should like it, of course," she answered, smiling and showing her
small but very regular white teeth, "only, like a good many other
pleasant things in this world, it is out of the question for me. I
cannot stay at your home alone with just your father and yourself.
Besides, your father would never think of inviting me, and although I
should enjoy seeing you alone at some other time, I am afraid even that
is impossible. Mrs. Burton would not----"
Here Felipe laughed in a teasing fashion.
"Is this the vaunted freedom of the American girl? I thought only the
other evening you confided to me that you had always been forced to
depend upon yourself ever since you were a little girl and that there
had been no one in your life who had ever influenced your decisions! Now
you speak of Mrs. Burton as if you were a tiny school girl. Let me
assure you--if assurance be necessary--that I intended nothing wicked or
even unconventional. I only wished you to take a walk with me some
afternoon, or a sail. I have a motor boat, and there are hours when the
sea is not rough. As a matter of fact, I meant to ask Mrs. Burton's
permission, in case I had your consent first. Mrs. Burton strikes me as
a charming person and not one who would be too strict a chaperon.
Naturally, as I have spent all my life in this neighborhood, I know the
attractive parts of the country."
Felipe's tone was not so much annoyed as it was patronizing, and Gerry
accepted it in this spirit.
She disliked making social mistakes, and she had had so little social
training and experience that she was apt to regard her mistakes as of
more importance than they actually were.
Now she supposed that she had misunderstood Felipe from the beginning
and that her own stupidity had been at fault. So she replied somewhat
humbly:
"I am sorry. If Mrs. Burton is willing, of course I shall enjoy walking
or sailing with you. But don't let me keep you away from the other
girls too long tonight. Suppose we walk over and join Mrs. Burton."
As if she intended rising, Gerry made a slight movement. Her companion
did not stir.
"Sit down, please, I am afraid you are angry," he returned. "I do wish I
had my guitar with me; I should like to sing to you. Mrs. Burton asked
me to bring it over tonight, but I had rather not sing before the
others."
So Gerry stayed on and allowed Felipe to talk, while she said little in
reply, only glancing now and then from the figure at her feet to the
beauty of the moonlit ocean. Vaguely she wondered why she had always
been convinced she did not care for the outdoor world. It was stupid
never to have realized its loveliness until tonight!
But, while Gerry and Felipe were having their talk together, only a
short distance away Lieutenant Geoffrey Carson and Bettina Graham were
engaged in a very different character of conversation.
It chanced that Lieutenant Carson, who was a Virginian, had an uncle
who had been a representative in Congress for a number of years. Having
visited his uncle, Lieutenant Carson had not only heard of Bettina's
distinguished father, but had met him and knew of his effort to persuade
his country to take her high place among the nations in the fight for a
world-wide democracy.
So, since Bettina Graham's father was her idol, she experienced none of
her customary shyness in talking to the young National Guard officer.
She had liked him in their former meetings, not resenting his quiet
sense of humor, a contrast to her own seriousness.
"Then you are in absolute sympathy with our having entered the war,
Lieutenant Carson?" Bettina inquired, adding: "I think I always have
been--and yet now and then one cannot help feeling that all war must be
wrong."
Before the young officer could reply, they heard some one approaching
and glancing up Bettina discovered Billy Webster.
The next moment, without awaiting their invitation, Billy took a seat on
the sands beside them.
Bettina was not surprised, for few persons who knew Billy intimately
continued to be surprised by his unexpected actions. Indeed, they would
have been surprised had he behaved otherwise. Now, although Bettina was
a little annoyed at having her conversation interrupted, she made no
effort to interfere with his intention.
The turning of Billy Webster from the accomplishment of his desire
required a tremendous amount of energy which the result scarcely ever
justified.
So far as Lieutenant Carson was concerned, because Billy looked so much
younger than he actually was, he regarded him merely as a presuming
small boy.
Moreover, at the beginning of their talk, certainly Billy behaved like
one. First he stared at Lieutenant Carson's dress uniform, with the
single bar on his collar and sleeve and then up into the officer's firm,
smooth-shaven face. Finally, leaning over close to his companion, he
fastened his large visionary blue eyes upon the officer's steadfast
brown ones.
"Why did you do it?" Billy inquired. Then, because he was accustomed to
being compelled to explain himself, he continued: "I mean why did you
volunteer, why go through all the hard work and rigmarole to be
appointed an officer in the army? You look as if you had an unusual lot
of sense, so I cannot imagine that you do not understand there are finer
things to do with one's life than killing people. I should think _you_
could see how much more men are called upon to conquer poverty and
injustice and the crime that comes of it, than they are called upon to
conquer one another. Of course if you had been drafted that would have
been a different matter. Most people do what other people tell them to
do. That is why I believe if all the leaders of the world would preach
peace, all war would end."
Instead of appearing to take the youthful pacifist seriously, Lieutenant
Carson smiled. Billy was a little offensive and misguided, nevertheless
there was something interesting about the boy; he had such an intense
manner, such an appearance of being convinced of his own point of view.
And Billy's personality suggested the thinker, not the man of action.
"Then you are under the impression we are over there in our encampment
for the fun of it and in order to kill time which we might be spending
in better ways?" he inquired, thinking that perhaps he might answer
Bettina's anxious questionings and Billy's impertinence at the same
time. "Well, as a matter of fact, our encampment is not a very
attractive place up to the present. Did you think so when you made us
the visit? One job we have been tackling recently is to clear away the
underbrush from a good many thousands of acres of desert which have
remained undisturbed from the year one until now. We killed ninety
rattlesnakes as a part of the first day's work. Later on we are going to
drive artillery across those wastes of sand. Does not sound like play,
does it?"
"No," Billy returned patiently, wondering why people would not sometimes
answer his questions directly, without first preaching long sermons
which seemed to have but little bearing upon them.
"It is because I think a soldier's life is so hard and must be so
distasteful to a lot of men that I wonder why you would rather give
your energy to fighting than to trying to make the world happier and
wiser in other ways."
Lieutenant Carson frowned. He knew the things Billy was saying were
being said by a good many people the world over, who were older and
wiser, or who should have been wiser, than Billy. But he also realized
that these same sentiments were not easy to answer, because they had in
them so much of the germ of truth, which was to blossom and flower at
some future day.
Moreover, unexpectedly he experienced an impulse to help the boy to see
the present world struggle in a clearer light.
"Billy," he added, "you will agree with me, won't you, that pretty
nearly everybody is saying the same thing these days? We all claim that
we wish the world to enjoy universal peace, that we long for greater
justice and happiness and a deeper sense of brotherhood. There is only
one point that divides you and me just at present. We all want peace,
but some of us want it so much that we are willing to pay for it by the
final last sacrifice of our youth and our blood. There are others who
think it may be obtained, and apparently you are one of them, simply by
sitting still and talking the whole subject over. This is pretty
difficult as things are at present. So long as the devil is such a
scrapper, those of us who believe in the triumph of right have got to
learn to fight back harder and even more successfully than he can
fight."
Billy was silent for a moment, then with an egotism which was eminently
characteristic, he remarked: "Well, perhaps that is the way some people
must see the thing. Do you know I have always believed that some day I
am going to have a tremendous influence upon people just through talking
to them."
Then, by the time Lieutenant Carson had recovered from his surprise at
Billy's audacity, he had made up his mind that the hour had arrived for
their return to camp.