A TANGLED WEB
Bessie's eyes were full of fear and dismay as she looked at Mrs. Chester
and Eleanor. At first she hadn't thought it even possible that they
could think she had done anything so cruel as to frighten the birds and
steal their eggs, but there was a grave look on their faces that
terrified her.
"No, Bessie," said Mrs. Chester, "I don't believe you did--certainly, I
don't want to believe anything of the sort."
"I _know_ you didn't do it, Bessie!" cried Eleanor Mercer.
"But General Seeley is very indignant about it, Bessie," Mrs. Chester
went on to say. "And some of the men told him that one of the girls from
the camp was around very early this morning, before anyone else was up,
walking about, and looking at things. So he seemed to think right away
that she must have done it. And he sent for me and asked me if I could
find out which of you girls had been out."
"Bessie went out openly, and she came back when we were all up," said
Eleanor, stoutly. "If she'd been doing anything wrong, Mrs. Chester, she
would have tried to get here without being seen, wouldn't she?"
"I know, Eleanor, I know," said Mrs. Chester, kindly. "You think she
couldn't have had anything to do with it--and so do I, really. But for
Bessie's own sake we want to clear it up, don't we?"
Bessie stood her ground bravely, and kept back the tears, although it
hurt her more to have these friends who had been so good to her bothered
about her than it would had almost anything happened to her.
"Oh, I wish I'd never seen you, Miss Eleanor!" she cried. "I've done
nothing but make trouble for you ever since you found us. I'm so sorry!
Zara wanted to come with me this morning, and if I'd let her, she could
have told you that I didn't even see the birds."
"It'll all come out right, Bessie," said Mrs. Chester. "I thought
perhaps you might have done it by accident, but if you weren't there
we'll find out who really did do it, never fear. Now, you had better
come with me. General Seeley asked me to bring any of the girls who had
been out this morning with me when I went to see him. He will want to
talk to you himself, I think."
So Bessie, tears in her eyes, which she tried bravely to keep back, had
to go up to the big house that they could see through the trees. It was
a big, rambling house, built of grey stone, with many windows, and all
about it were beds of flowers. Bessie had never seen a house that was
even half so fine.
"General Seeley is very particular about his birds, and all the animals
on the place," explained Mrs. Chester, as they made their way toward the
house. "Some men keep pheasants just so that they can shoot them in the
autumn, and they call that sport. But General Seeley doesn't allow that.
He's a kind and gentle man, although he's a soldier."
"Has he ever been in a war, Mrs. Chester?"
"Yes. He's a real patriot, and when his country needed him he went out
to fight, like many other brave and gentle men. But, like most men who
are really brave, he hates to see anyone or even any animal, hurt.
Soldiers aren't rough and brutal just because they sometimes have to go
to war and fight. They know so much about how horrible war is that
they're really the best friends of peace."
"I never knew that. I thought they liked to fight."
"No, it's just the other way round. When you hear men talk about how
fine war is, and how they hope this country will have one some time
soon, you can make up your mind that they are boasters and bullies, and
that if a war really came they'd stay home and let someone else do the
fighting. It isn't the people who talk the most and brag the loudest who
step to the front when there's something really hard to be done. They
leave that to the quiet people."
Then they walked along in silence. The place seemed even more beautiful
now, but Bessie was too upset to appreciate its loveliness. She wondered
if General Seeley would believe her, or if he would be more like Maw
Hoover than Mrs. Chester.
"We'll find him on the porch in the back of the house, I think, Bessie.
If he's there we can find him without going inside and bothering the
servants. So we'll go around and see."
General Seeley was a small man, with white beard and moustache, and at
her first look at him Bessie thought he looked very fierce indeed, and
every inch a soldier, though there were so few inches. He had sharp blue
eyes that were keen and piercing, and after he had risen and bowed to
Mrs. Chester, which he did as soon as he saw her, he looked sharply at
Bessie--so sharply that she was sure at once that he had judged her
already, and was very angry at her.
"Well, well, so you've found the poacher and brought her with you, eh?"
he said. "Sit down, ma'am, sit down, while I talk to her!"
And now Bessie saw that there was really a twinkle in the keen eyes, and
that he wasn't as angry as he looked.
"What's her name? Bessie, eh? Bessie King? Well, sit down, Bessie, and
we'll have a talk. No use standing up--none at all! Might as well be
comfortable!"
"Thank you, sir," said Bessie, and sat down. She was still nervous, but
her fright was lessened. He was much more kindly than she had expected
him to be, somehow.
"Now, let's find out all about this, Bessie. Didn't you know you
oughtn't to frighten the birds? Or didn't you think they'd be
frightened--eh, what?"
Bessie didn't understand, fully, at first.
"But I didn't frighten them, sir," she said.
"They thought so. Stupid birds, eh, to think they were frightened when
they weren't? But you remember they didn't know any better."
He laughed merrily at his own joke, and glanced at Mrs. Chester, as if
he expected her to laugh, too, and to be amused, but her eyes were
troubled, and she was very thoughtful.
"Come, come," he went on. "It's not so very terrible, after all! We've
all of us done things we were sorry for--eh, Mrs. Chester? I'll wager
that even you have--and I know very well that there are lots of things I
can think of that I did just because I didn't think there was any harm
in them."
"Some people wouldn't admit that, General Seeley, but it's very true,"
said Mrs. Chester. "I know it is in my case."
"Well, well, can't you talk, Bessie? Aren't you going to tell me you're
sorry and that you won't do it again?"
"I'm sorry the birds were frightened," said Bessie, bravely. "But I
can't say that I won't do it again--"
"What's that? What's that? Bless me, what's the use of saying you're
sorry if you mean to do it the next time you get a chance?"
The general was flushed as he spoke, and his eyes held the same angry
look they had worn at first. Mrs. Chester sighed and decided that it was
time for her to speak.
"I don't think that was just what Bessie meant, General. I think you
didn't understand her--"
"Well, well, perhaps not! What do you mean, Bessie?"
"I mean I can't promise not to do it again, sir, because I didn't do it
at all, in the first place. Really, I didn't--"
"Oh, nonsense!" said the general, testily. "I'm ready to overlook
it--don't you understand that? All I want you to do is to confess, and
to say you're sorry. Nothing's going to happen to you!"
"I can't confess when I didn't do it," pleaded Bessie. "And if I had
done it, I'd say so, whether anything was going to happen to me or not.
That wouldn't make any difference."
General Seeley jumped to his feet.
"Oh, come, come! That's nonsense!" he said. "Who else could have done
it, eh? Answer me that! I've said I'd forgive you--"
"But, General," protested Mrs. Chester, "if Bessie didn't do it, she'd
be telling you an untruth if she said she had--and you wouldn't have her
do that?"
"I'm a just man, Mrs. Chester, but I know what's what. She must have
done it--she was around the place. And I know that none of my men did
it. They know better! No one but the game-keepers are allowed to go into
the preserve, and they all know they'd be dismissed at once if they
disobeyed my rules about that. I'm strict--very strict! I insist upon
obedience of orders and truthfulness--learned the need of them when I
was in the army. Don't you think I can tell what's going on here,
ma'am?"
"I think you're mistaken, General--that's all. I'm sure Bessie is
telling the truth. Why shouldn't she? You've told her that she needn't
be afraid to confess if she did frighten the birds, and that was very
kind and generous of you. So, if she had, she wouldn't have anything to
lose by saying so, and promising not to be careless that way again."
"What do you know about her, ma'am? Isn't it true that she's one of the
two girls you told me about last night--that Miss Mercer had found?
If--"
"I know she's a brave, honest girl, General. She's proved that already."
"I disagree with you, Mrs. Chester," said the general, stiffly. "You're
a lady, and you naturally think well of everyone. I've learned by bitter
experience that we can't always do that. I've trusted men, and had them
go wrong, despite that. If she was one of the girls like the others,
that you'd always known about, it would be different. Then I'd be happy
to take your word for it. But when I think you aren't in any better
position to judge than I am, I've got to use my own judgment."
"I'm sorry, General," said Mrs. Chester. "I can't tell you how sorry I
am--but I'm sure you're wrong."
"She can't stay here, that's certain," said the general, testily. "I
can't have a girl about the place who frightens my birds and then
tells--lies--"
Bessie cried out sharply at that word.
"Oh--oh!" she said. "Really, I've told the truth--I have, indeed! If I
said what you want me to say, than I'd be lying--but I'm not."
"Silence, please!" said General Seeley, sternly. "I'm talking with Mrs.
Chester now, young woman. You've had your chance--and you wouldn't take
it. Now I'm done with you!"
"What do you mean, General?" asked Mrs. Chester, looking very grave.
"You'll have to send her away--where she came from, Mrs. Chester. You
and the girls you can vouch for are welcome, but I can't have her
here."
"I can't do that, General," said Mrs. Chester, not angrily, but gravely,
and looking him straight in the eyes.
"But you must! I won't let her stay here! And these are my grounds,
aren't they?"
"Certainly! But if Bessie goes, we all go with her. It's not our way to
desert those we've once befriended and taken in, General."
"That is for you to decide, ma'am," he said, stiffly. He got up and
bowed to her. "I'm sorry that this should cause a quarrel--"
"It hasn't," said Mrs. Chester, smiling. "It takes two to make a
quarrel, and I simply won't quarrel with you, General. I know you'll be
sorry for what you've said when you think it over. Come, Bessie!"
Bessie, quite stunned by the trouble that had come upon them so suddenly
out of a clear sky, couldn't speak for a minute.
"Oh," she said, then, "you don't mean that all the girls will have to
leave this lovely place because of me?"
"Not because of you, but because of a mistake that's not your fault,
Bessie. You mustn't worry about it. Just leave it to me. I'm sure you're
telling the truth, and I'm going to stick by you."