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[Illustration: RICHARD HUNT SAT DOWN ON A WAYSIDE BENCH WITH HER]
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN AFTER YEARS
BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK
Author of "The Ranch Girls Series," etc.
ILLUSTRATED
PHILADELPHIA
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1915, by
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS
Six Volumes
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
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE INAUGURAL BALL 7
II. NEW NAMES FOR OLD ACQUAINTANCES 21
III. IDLE SUSPICION 32
IV. TIES FROM OTHER DAYS 44
V. SOMETHING UNEXPECTED 55
VI. THE FIRST DISILLUSION 66
VII. A NEW INTEREST 79
VIII. "BOBBIN" 91
IX. BACK IN NEW HAMPSHIRE 101
X. LONELINESS 110
XI. A MEETING AND AN EXPLANATION 120
XII. THE WAY HOME 132
XIII. "A LITTLE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE" 140
XIV. SUSPICION 150
XV. WAITING TO FIND OUT 160
XVI. A TALK THAT WAS NOT AN EXPLANATION 172
XVII. CHRISTMAS 180
XVIII. THE STUPIDITY OF MEN 191
XIX. A CRY IN THE NIGHT 201
XX. THE DISCOVERY 212
XXI. ONCE MORE IN CONCORD 221
XXII. THINGS ARE CLEARED UP 230
XXIII. FINIS 244
ILLUSTRATIONS
RICHARD HUNT SAT DOWN ON A WAYSIDE BENCH WITH HER _Frontispiece_
PAGE
HE GLANCED QUICKLY ABOUT HIM AND THEN DISAPPEARED 39
ANGEL HAD CAUGHT BETTINA'S ATTITUDE ALMOST EXACTLY 167
SHE SPRANG OUT OF BED HERSELF THE NEXT MOMENT 239
The Camp Fire Girls in After Years
CHAPTER I
THE INAUGURAL BALL
FACING the hills, the great house had a wonderful view of the curving
banks of a river.
Half an hour before sunset a number of workmen hurried away across the
grounds, while a little later from behind the closed blinds glowed
hundreds of softly shaded electric lights. The lawns were strung with
rows and rows of small lamps suspended from one giant tree to the next,
but waiting for actual darkness to descend before shedding forth their
illumination.
Evidently preparations had been made on a splendid scale, both inside
the house and out, for an entertainment of some kind. Yet curiously
there seemed to be a strange hush over everything, a sense of anxiety
and suspense pervading the very atmosphere. Then, in odd contrast to the
other lights, the room on the third floor to the left was in almost
total darkness save for a single tiny flame no larger than a nurse's
covered candle.
At about half-past six o'clock suddenly and with almost no noise the
front door of the house opened. The next moment a slight form appeared
upon the flight of broad steps and gazed down the avenue. From behind
her came the mingled fragrance of roses and violets, while before her
arose the even more delicious tang of earth and grass and softly
drifting autumn leaves of the late October evening.
Nevertheless neither the beauty of the evening nor its perfumes
attracted the girl's attention, for her expression remained grave and
frightened, and without appearing aware of it she sighed several times.
Small and dark, with an extraordinary quantity of almost blue-black hair
and a thin white face dominated by a pair of unhappy dark eyes, the
girl's figure suggested a child, although she was plainly older. In her
hand she carried a cane upon which she leaned slightly.
"It does seem too hard for this trouble to have come at this particular
time," she murmured in unconscious earnestness. "If only I could do
something to help, yet there is absolutely nothing, of course, except to
wait. Still, I wish Faith would come home."
Then, after peering for another moment down the avenue of old elms and
maple trees, she turned and went back into the house, closing the door
behind her and moving almost noiselessly.
For the present no one else was to be seen, at least in the front part
of the big mansion, except the solitary figure of this young girl, who
looked somewhat incongruous and out of place in her handsome
surroundings. Notwithstanding, she seemed perfectly at home and was
plainly neither awed by nor unfamiliar with them. The hall was decorated
with palms and evergreens and festoons of vines, and adorning the high
walls were portraits, most of them of men of stern countenance and of a
past generation, while here and there stood a marble bust. But without
regarding any of these things with special attention the girl walked
quickly past them and entered the drawing room on the right. Then at
last her face brightened.
Surely the room was beautiful enough to have attracted any one's
attention, although it was not exactly the kind of room one would see in
a private house, for it happened to be in the Governor's mansion in the
state of New Hampshire.
In preparation for the evening's entertainment the furniture had been
moved away except for a number of chairs and divans. The two tall marble
mantels were banked with roses and violets and baskets of roses swung
from the two crystal chandeliers.
With a murmured exclamation the girl dropped down on a low stool in the
corner where the evergreens almost entirely concealed her and where she
appeared more like an elf creature that had come into the house with the
green things surrounding her than an everyday girl. For a quarter of an
hour she must have remained there alone, when she was aroused from her
reverie by some one's entrance. Then, although the girl did not move or
speak, her whole face changed and the sullen, unhappy look disappeared,
while oddly her eyes filled with tears.
There could have been nothing fairer in the room than the woman who had
just come quietly into it. She must have been about twenty-eight years
old; her hair was a beautiful auburn, like sunshine on certain brown and
red leaves in the woods in late October; her eyes were gray, and she was
of little more than medium height, with slender hips, but a full throat
and chest. At the present moment she was wearing a house gown of light
blue cashmere, and although she looked as if life might always before
have been kind to her, at present her face was pale and there were marks
of sleeplessness about her eyes and mouth.
Apparently trying to summon an interest in her surroundings which she
scarcely felt, she glanced about the room until her eyes rested on the
silent girl.
"Why, Angel, what are you doing in here alone, child? How lovely
everything looks, and yet I am afraid I cannot come down to receive
people tonight. All afternoon I have been trying to make up my mind to
attempt it and each moment it seems more impossible."
Then with a gesture indicating both fatigue and discouragement the woman
sat down, folding her hands in her lap.
"But the baby isn't any worse, I heard only half an hour ago," the
younger girl interrupted quickly, and in answer to a shake of the head
from her companion went on: "You simply must be present tonight,
Princess. This is the greatest night in your husband's career and you
know the Inaugural Ball would be an entire failure without you! Staying
up-stairs won't do little Tony any good. And think what it would mean to
the Governor to have to manage all alone! You know you promised Anthony
before his election that you would attend to the social side of his
office for him, as he declared he didn't know enough to undertake it. So
you can't desert him at the very beginning."
Swiftly Angelique Martins crossed the room and seated herself on the arm
of her friend's chair. "I promise you on my honor that I shall sit just
outside little Tony's bedroom the entire evening and if he is even the
tiniest bit worse I shall come down and tell you on the instant."
There was a moment of silence and then the newly elected Governor's wife
replied: "I suppose you are right, Angel, and I must try to do what you
say, for nothing else is fair to Anthony. Yet I never dreamed of ever
having to choose between my love and duty to my baby and my husband! But
dear me, I am sure I have not the faintest idea how the Governor's Lady
should behave at her first reception, even if I have to make my debut in
the character in the next few hours."
Then, in a lighter tone than she had yet used in their conversation,
Betty Ashton, who was now Mrs. Governor Graham, smiled, placing her hand
for a moment on that of her companion.
For the friendship between Betty Ashton and the little French girl whom
she had discovered at the hospital in Boston had never wavered even
after the Betty of the Camp Fire days had become Mrs. Anthony Graham,
wife of the youngest governor ever elected to the highest office in his
state. Moreover, Betty and Anthony now had two children of their own,
the little Tony, a baby of about two years old, who was now dangerously
ill on the top floor of the Governor's mansion, and Bettina, who was
six.
Angelique Martins was almost like an adoring younger sister. She was
approaching twenty; yet on account of her lameness and shyness she
appeared much younger. But she was one of the odd girls who in some ways
are like children and yet in others are older than people ever dream.
After her mother's death, several years before, she had come to live
with Betty and Anthony and held a position as an assistant stenographer
in the Governor's office. Ordinarily she was strangely silent and
reserved, so that no one, not even her best friend, entirely understood
her.
"But you must not miss the ball tonight, Angel," Betty now continued
more cheerfully. "You and Faith have been talking of it for weeks, and
so I can't have you sacrifice yourself for me. Besides, one of the
nurses can do what you offered and send me a message if I am needed.
Don't you remember that your dress is even prettier than Faith's? I was
perfectly determined it should be." And Betty smiled, amused at herself.
She was always a little jealous for her protege of Faith Barton. It was
true that since their first meeting at Sunrise Cabin the two girls had
become close friends. But then Betty could seldom fail to see, just as
she had in the beginning, the painful contrast between them. Faith had
grown into a beautiful girl and Dr. Barton and Rose were entirely
devoted to her; and she had also both charm and talent, although still
given to impossible dreams about people and things.
Angel now shook her head. "You know you would feel safer with me to
stand guard over Tony than if you had only one of the servants," she
argued a little resentfully. Then with her cheeks crimsoning: "Besides,
Princess, you know that I perfectly loathe having to meet strangers. No
one in the world except you could ever have induced me even to think of
it. I am ever so much happier alone with you and the children or pegging
away at my typewriter at the office. I believe people ought to remain
where they belong in this world, and you can't possibly make me look
like Faith by dressing me up in pretty clothes. I should never conceive
of being her rival in anything."
There was a curious note in the lame girl's voice that passed unnoticed,
for her companion suddenly inquired: "By the way, dear, do you know what
has become of Faith? I passed her room and she was not there. I hope she
is not out alone. I know she has a fashion of loving to go about in the
twilight, dreaming her dreams and composing verse. Still, when she is
here visiting me I would much rather she did not."
"But Faith isn't alone. She is with the Governor's secretary, Kenneth
Helm," Angel answered. "Mr. Helm came to the house with a message and
Faith asked him to go out with her."
Betty smiled. Faith Barton scorned conventionalities and felt sure that
she was above certain of them. "Oh, I did not know Kenneth and Faith had
learned to know each other so well in two weeks' time," she replied
carelessly, her attention wandering to the little Tony up-stairs.
"However, Faith is all right if she is with Kenneth. I know Anthony has
the greatest possible trust in him or he would never have selected him
for his secretary in such troublesome political times as these. I don't
believe you seem to like Kenneth as much as you once did. But you must
not be prejudiced against so many people. He used to be very kind to
you."
Without waiting for Angel's reply Betty walked away. If she could have
seen her expression she might have been surprised or annoyed.
For sometimes Angel had wondered if it would be wise for her to take her
friend into her confidence. Surely she had reasons for not being so sure
of the Governor's confidence in his secretary. But then what proof had
she to offer against him? Besides, people often considered her
suspicious and unfriendly. Moreover, in this case the French girl did
not altogether trust herself. Was there not some personal reason in her
dislike? It was entirely true that she had not felt like this in the
beginning of their acquaintance.
With a feeling of irritation against herself, Angel started to leave the
drawing room. This was plainly no time for worrying over the future; she
must go and have something to eat at once so as to be able to help watch
the baby. There was only one regret the girl felt at her own decision.
She was sorry not to see Betty receiving her guests at the Inaugural
Ball tonight. For her friend remained her ideal of what a great lady
should be in the best sense. Moreover, there would be other old friends
whom she had once known at Sunrise Cabin. However, some of them were
guests at the mansion, so she could meet them later.
Out in the hall the little French girl now discovered Faith and Kenneth
Helm returning from their walk. The Governor's private secretary must
have been about twenty-four or five years old. He was a Yale graduate
and had light-brown hair and eyes of almost the same color. He had the
shoulders of an athlete, a clear, bright complexion, and as Angel
watched them she could not deny that he had a particularly charming
smile. However, he was assuredly not looking at her. It was absurd to
care, of course, yet nevertheless even the humblest person scarcely
likes being wilfully ignored. And Angel was sure that the young man had
seen her, even though he gave no appearance of having done so.
The next moment, after her companion's departure, Faith Barton turned to
her friend. Faith's cheeks were delicately flushed from her walk in the
autumn air and her pale gold hair was blowing about her face. Her blue
eyes were wide open and clear and she looked curiously innocent of any
wrong or misfortune in the world. Surely there were seldom two girls
offering a more complete contrast than the two who now tiptoed softly
down the long hall together.
"I am going to rest a little while," Faith said at parting. "But do let
us try to have a long, quiet talk tomorrow. I want to tell you a secret
that no one else in the world must know for the present."