TIES FROM OTHER DAYS
ONE morning, a few days later, Mrs. Jack Emmet was ushered into Betty's
personal sitting room. Betty was writing notes and Bettina was curled up
in a big chair near the window with a book of fairy tales in her lap.
Both of them rose at once, Betty kissing her friend affectionately. But
her little girl, who showed her affection differently from other
children, sitting down by Meg's side, slipped her small hand inside
hers.
Meg was beautifully dressed in a dark blue broadcloth and black fox furs
with a velvet hat and small black feather curled close against her light
hair. Yet the hat was the least bit awry, one lock of hair had come
uncurled and been blown about by the wind, and a single blue button hung
loose on the stylish coat. Noticing these absurd details for some reason
or other, Betty felt oddly pleased. For they brought back the Meg of
old days, whom not all the strenuous years of Camp Fire training had
been able to make as neat as she should have been, although since her
marriage she seemed to have greatly changed.
Therefore, in observing these unimportant facts of her friend's costume
Betty failed to catch the difference in her expression. They began their
conversation idly enough in discussing the ball of a few nights before,
the Governor's health and just how busy he was and what people were
saying of him in Concord. For, although Mr. and Mrs. Graham had only
been installed in the Governor's mansion a few weeks, Mr. and Mrs. Jack
Emmet had been living in Concord ever since their marriage about five
years before.
Nevertheless, if Betty had not observed the change in her friend, in
some unaccountable fashion Bettina had. Not that the little girl
realized that Mrs. Emmet had dark circles under her eyes and that
instead of gazing directly at her mother as she talked, her glance
traveled restlessly about the pretty room. Nor did Bettina know that
Meg's cheeks were not a natural pink, but flushed to uncomfortable
redness; no, she only appreciated that "Aunt Meg," for whom she cared a
great deal, was uneasy and unhappy and would perhaps enjoy having her
keep close beside her.
"You will stay and take lunch with us, won't you, dear?" Betty urged,
moving forward to assist her visitor in removing her wraps. "You see, we
shall probably be all by ourselves. Anthony is too busy to come home,
Angel is at the office and Faith asked to be left alone for the day. The
child is probably scribbling away on some story she desires to write.
Then after lunch we can see little Tony. The baby is well again, only
the nurse wants him kept quiet."
Affectionately Betty placed her hands on Meg's shoulders and standing
directly beside her now for the first time looked closely into her face.
To her shocked surprise she discovered that unexpected tears had started
to Meg's eyes.
At once Betty Graham's happy expression clouded. For she was no less
ready with her sympathy than in former days, and the Camp Fire girls of
the old Sunrise Club seemed almost like real sisters.
"You came to tell me of something that is troubling you and I didn't
dream of it till this minute!" Betty exclaimed, slipping off Meg's coat
and unpinning her hat without waiting for permission. Then, pushing her
friend down into a big, soft armchair, she took a lower one opposite.
"Isn't it good fortune that we are living in the same place just as we
used to long ago?" She continued talking, of course, to allow her
companion to gain her self-control. Then she glanced toward Bettina, but
Meg only drew the little girl closer, hiding her face for an instant in
her soft hair.
"I'm absurd to be so nervous, Betty," Meg whispered apologetically.
"Please don't think there is anything serious the matter. Only--only I
have come to ask you a favor and I don't know exactly how to begin. Of
course, we used to be very intimate friends and all that, but now you
are the Governor's wife, and--and----"
Before she could finish a somewhat hurt voice interposed. "And--and--I
am Betty Ashton Graham still, very much at your service, Sweet Marjoram,
as Polly once named you. Dear me, Meg, don't be absurd. I can't say I
feel particularly exalted by my position as wife of the new Governor,
though of course I am frightfully vain of Anthony. Besides you know if
there is anything I can do that you would like, I shall be happier than
I can say." With a laugh that still had something serious in it, Betty
put her hand over her friend's. "I still insist that I owe Anthony
partly to you," she ended.
But this time Meg did not trouble to argue the absurd statement.
She began talking at once as rapidly as possible, as if glad to get the
subject off her mind.
"It's about John, I came to talk to you, my brother, John Everett,
Betty," Meg explained. "I don't know whether you have seen much of him
lately, but you were devoted friends once and I thought perhaps for the
sake of the past you might be interested."
"John Everett? For the sake of the past I might be interested! Whatever
are you talking about?" Betty was now frowning in her effort to
understand and looked absurdly like a girl, with her level brows drawn
near together and her lips pouting slightly. "Why, of course I am
interested. I used to like John better than any of the other beaus we
had, when we were girls, except Anthony. Tell me, is John going to be
married at last? I have wondered why he has waited such a long time. But
I suppose he wanted to be rich first. It has been about two years since
we met by accident in a theater in New York, but I thought he had grown
handsomer than ever." This time Betty's laugh was more teasing than
sympathetic. "I wonder why sisters are so jealous of their big brothers
marrying, Mrs. Jack Emmet? You are married yourself--why begrudge John
the good fortune? I don't believe Nan has ever entirely forgiven me for
capturing Anthony. I am convinced she would have preferred any other of
the Camp Fire girls. There is only one of us, however, whom she would
have really liked, and that is Sylvia. Yet who would ever think of
Doctor Sylvia Wharton's marrying?"
This time Meg's voice was firmer. "But John isn't going to be married,
Betty. It is quite a different thing I wish to talk to you about.
Instead of John's getting rich on Wall Street, as you think, he has
gotten dreadfully poor. And I am afraid it is not just his own money he
has lost, but father's savings. Now Horace will have to give up his
college and I really don't know what will become of father. He is too
old to begin teaching again since his resignation several years ago."
Her voice broke, but then her friend's face was so bewildered and so
full of a sudden, ardent sympathy, that it was difficult for Meg to keep
her self-control. However, she said nothing more for a minute, but sat
biting her lips and wondering how to go on to the next thing.
Fortunately Betty helped her. "I expect John will have to come back home
and take care of your father. Horace is too young and it is more John's
place than your husband's. I am sorry, for I'm afraid things will seem
pretty dull for him here after his gay life in New York."
All at once Betty's face cleared a little and she leaned back in her
chair. "But you remember, Meg, that when you first spoke you said you
wished me to do you a favor. Is there anything in the world I can do? I
am sure I can scarcely imagine what it is, yet if I can in any way help
you out of this trouble----"
"You can," Meg whispered shyly; "that is, perhaps not you, but Anthony,
and you are almost the same person."
In answer to this rather surprising statement Betty Graham merely shook
her head quietly. However, this was scarcely the time to argue whether
or not marriage merged two persons into one or simply made each one
bigger and more individual from association with the other. She wanted
to do whatever was possible to assist Meg and John Everett too in this
trying time in their affairs. Besides, as a little girl she had always
been fond of old Professor Everett, whose life had been given to the
wisdom of books rather than to the living world. But most of all, being
a very natural woman, Betty was now keenly curious to know how she could
possibly be expected to be involved in the present situation and what
she could do to help out.
"You are right. John does mean to come home, or at least he wishes to
return. He says he is tired of New York and all the fret and hurry and
struggle of life there. But you see, Betty dear," and Meg spoke quickly
now that she had finally come to the point of her story, "there is no
use John's returning unless he has something to do. There is where you
and Anthony can help. I didn't think of this myself, but when my husband
and I were talking things over he said that Anthony and you and I were
such old friends and that the new Governor had so many appointments he
could make to all sorts of good positions. So we thought perhaps you
would ask Anthony to help John. I know Anthony does anything you wish."
"Oh!" Betty replied somewhat blankly. For never had she been more
surprised than by Meg's request. Of course she knew that Anthony was
making a number of changes in positions held by people whom he thought
unworthy of trust throughout the state. Often he talked about what he
felt he should do, but really it had never dawned upon Betty until this
minute that she or her friends could be in any way concerned. Still, why
not? John was a good business man, Betty thought; he was not dishonest
or dishonorable and the Everetts were her old friends. If Anthony could
help them in their present trouble, surely he would be as glad as she
was to have the opportunity.
Yet Betty hesitated before answering. However, as she did not wish to
make Meg uncomfortable she slipped from her own chair and put her arm
sympathetically about her friend's shoulders, while she endeavored to
think things quietly over. Finally Betty returned:
"I can't _exactly_ promise what you first asked, Meg dear. You see, I
have always intended not to interfere in the things that did not seem
altogether my affair. But somehow, since you have asked me and for
John's and your father's sakes, who are such old friends, why I don't
feel as I did before. I tell you, I _will_ ask Anthony this very night,
so let's don't worry any more. Tina darling, run and tell the maids we
would like our luncheon up here. Our dining room is so absurdly big."
As she talked, as if by magic Betty's expression had changed and again
she was her usual gay, light-hearted self. Of course she and Anthony
together would be able to clear away Meg's troubles. Never before had
she entirely realized how fine it was to have power and influence.
Moreover, Betty's confidence also inspired Meg, and for the first time
in weeks Mrs. Jack Emmet felt like the Meg Everett of the old days in
Woodford, who used to keep house for her father, kiss her small brother
Horace's (surnamed Bump's) wounds and help and encourage her big brother
John in all his ambitions and desires.
Just as Meg went away, however, she insisted quite seriously:
"Betty, I often think that even if our old Camp Fire Club did nothing
more for us than to bind our friendships together in the way it has, it
would be dreadful for all girls not to have the same opportunities in
their lives. Talk of college friendships, surely they are not to be
compared with those of Camp Fire clubs!"