"A LITTLE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE"
"BUT, my dearest sister, what is the matter with Betty? You were
perfectly right, she isn't one bit like herself and neither is Anthony.
I don't even believe she was particularly glad to see me when I stopped
over in Concord with her for a few days."
Polly O'Neill was in her sister Mollie's big, sunshiny living room in
her splendid old farm-house near Sunrise Cabin. There was no specially
handsome furniture in the room, perhaps nothing particularly beautiful
in itself, yet Polly had just announced that it was the very homiest
room in all the world and for that reason the nicest.
There were low book-shelves on two sides of the room, for though Mollie
never read anything except at night when her husband read aloud to her,
Billy Webster kept up with all the latest books, fiction, history,
travel, besides subscribing to most of the magazines in the country.
Indeed, although he and Polly often quarreled good-naturedly, Polly was
openly proud of her brother-in-law, who had turned out to be a more
intelligent and capable man than she had ever expected.
But besides Billy's books there were lots of old chairs, some of them
rather worn, but all delightfully comfortable; a great big table, now
littered with children's toys; the old-fashioned couch upon which Polly
was reposing; some ornaments belonging to ancestral Websters and a tall
grandfather's clock, besides half a dozen engravings and etchings on the
walls.
Mollie was sitting in a low chair dressing a big china doll. The
sunshine lingered on her dark hair, her plump pink cheeks and her happy
expression. For she was in a delightful state of content with the world.
Was not her beloved Polly at home for the Christmas festivities and were
not Billy and the children and her mother in excellent health and
spirits?
Yet she looked a little uneasy over her sister's question. For Betty was
nearer to her heart than any one outside her own family.
"So you noticed it too, Polly?" she returned, stopping her work for a
moment and gazing out the great glass window. Outside in the snow her
three children were playing, her little girl, Polly, and Billy and Dan.
Bobbin was standing a short distance away watching them intently.
Indeed, ever since her arrival at the farm she seemed to have done
almost nothing except look and look with all her might and main. The
girl seemed scarcely to wish either to eat or sleep. And at first this
had worried her new friends, until suddenly Polly had realized what a
wonderful new experience Mollie's home and family were to this child who
had never seen anything in the least like it in her whole life.
But Mollie was not watching the children. Polly got up and leaned on her
elbow to discover what had attracted her sister's attention. For only a
few moments before the children had been sent outdoors to keep them from
tiring the aunt whom they adored.
No, Mollie's gaze was fastened on a big man who had just approached
wearing a heavy overcoat and a fur cap and carrying a great bunch of
mistletoe and holly in his hands, which he was showing with careful
attention to the little girl visitor.
"Here comes Billy," she explained. "Perhaps he can tell us."
Of course Polly laughed. "Gracious, dear, isn't there anything in the
world you won't let your husband decide? I should think that even Mr.
William Webster could hardly tell us what is troubling our beloved
Betty. And I don't know that it is even right to ask him. You see, old
maids are shy about these things."
But in reply Mollie shook her head reproachfully. "I was only going to
ask Billy about the difficulty Anthony is having with his position as
Governor," she explained. "You see, I know there is some kind of talk.
People are saying he is not being as honest as they expected. There is a
bill which ex-Governor Peyton and Meg's husband, Jack Emmet, and her
brother, John, are trying to get through the Legislature. Most people
don't think the bill is honest and believe Anthony should come out and
say he is opposed to it. But so far he has not said anything one way or
the other. I thought maybe Betty was worrying because people were
thinking such hateful things about Anthony. I simply couldn't stand it
if it were Billy."
"Wise Mollie!" her sister answered thoughtfully. "You may be right, but
somehow there seemed to me to be something else troubling Betty. If it
were only this political trouble, why shouldn't she have confided in
me?"
But at this instant William Webster came into the room with a dozen
letters and almost as many newspapers in his hands. Six of the letters
he bestowed on Polly, who opened five of them and stuck the sixth inside
her dress.
Ten minutes later Billy Webster looked up from the paper he was reading.
"See here," he said, "I don't like this. This paper comes pretty near
having an insulting letter in it concerning Anthony Graham. Of course it
does not say anything outright, but the insinuations are even worse.
See, the article is headed: 'Is Our Reform Governor So Honest As We
Supposed?' Then later on the writer suggests that Anthony may not be
above taking graft himself. Everybody knows he is a poor man."
Afterwards there was an unusual silence in the big room until Billy
turned inquiringly toward his wife and sister-in-law.
"Don't take my question in the wrong way, please," he began rather
timidly. "But is Betty Graham a very extravagant woman? I know she was
brought up to have a great deal of money, and although she was poor for
a little while that may not have made any difference. You see, Anthony
Graham is absolutely an honest man, but everybody knows that he adores
his wife----"
Billy stopped because quite in her old girlhood fashion Polly had sprung
up on her sofa and her eyes were fairly blazing at him.
"What utter nonsense, Billy Webster! You ought to be ashamed of yourself
for suggesting such a thing. In the first place, Betty is not
extravagant, but even if she were she would most certainly rather be
dead than have Anthony do a dishonest thing on her account. Besides, if
Anthony is your friend and you really believe in him, you ought not to
doubt him under any possible circumstances." Then Polly bit her lips and
calmed down somewhat, for Mollie was looking a little frightened as she
always did when her sister and Billy disagreed. However, her sympathies
this time were assuredly on her sister's side.
"If you had only belonged to a Camp Fire club as we did with Betty
Ashton you would never have doubted her even for a second, Billy. I know
you don't really," Mollie added, somewhat severely for her. "Oh, dear, I
never shall cease to be grateful for our club! All the girls seem almost
like sisters to me, and especially Betty."
Billy Webster folded up his paper and glanced first at his wife and then
at his sister-in-law.
"I beg everybody's pardon," he said slowly, "and I stand rebuked!
Certainly I did not mean really to doubt either Anthony or Betty for a
moment. But you are right, Mollie dear, that Camp Fire Club certainly
taught you girls loyalty toward one another. I don't believe people dare
say nowadays that women are not loyal friends, and perhaps the Camp Fire
clubs have had their influence. But some day soon I believe I will go up
to Concord and see Anthony. Perhaps he might like to talk to an old
friend."
"He and Betty and the children are coming to Woodford for Christmas,"
Mollie announced contentedly, whipping away at the lace on the doll's
dress now that peace was again restored. "Betty says she can't miss the
chance of spending a Christmas with Polly after all these years.
Besides, she is curious about Bobbin. I hope Sylvia will come too. She
won't promise to leave her old hospital, but I believe the desire to see
Polly will bring her here. You know she writes, Polly, that you are
positively not to come to her for the present."
Her sister nodded, but a few moments later got up and went up alone to
her own room.
Their talk had somehow made her feel more uncomfortable about Betty
than she had in the beginning. Somehow she had hoped that Mollie would
not be so ready to agree with her own judgment. Yet most decidedly she
had noticed a change in Betty during her short visit to her. Betty was
no longer gay and sweet-tempered; she was nervous and cross, sometimes
with her husband and children, now and then with the two girls who were
spending the winter with her, Angelique Martins and Faith Barton.
Moreover, she had gotten a good deal thinner, and though she was as
pretty as ever, sometimes looked tired and discontented. Besides, she
was living such a society existence, teas, balls, dinners, receptions
almost every hour of the day and night. No wonder she was tired! Of
course Anthony could not always go with her; he was far too busy and had
never cared for society. For a moment Polly wondered when Betty and her
husband managed to see each other when they were both so occupied with
different interests. Yet when they had married she had believed them
absolutely the most devoted and congenial of all her friends.
Well, Betty need not expect finally to escape confessing her difficulty.
Even if there was no opportunity for an intimate talk during the
Christmas gayeties they must see each other soon again. Either she would
go to Concord or have Betty come again to Mollie's.
Then Polly cast off her worries and settling herself comfortably in a
big leather chair by the fire took out the letter concealed inside her
dress and began reading it.