OBSERVATION
Two girls were standing on the rear platform of a big observation car
that had left Chicago a number of hours before.
They were charmingly dressed for travel—one in a brown corduroy coat and
skirt, a cream-colored blouse and a soft brown felt hat, with a single
cream-colored wing in it, and the other in blue. The first was a small,
dark girl with a brilliant color, scarlet lips and black eyes. But
little in the swiftly passing landscape seemed to escape her interest.
The other girl was perhaps a year older and had light golden-brown hair.
Her eyes were sometimes gray, sometimes blue and now and then faintly
green, should she chance to be standing under a group of trees or
surrounded with any green foliage. Her dress was like that of her
companion except for the difference in color. Her expression was less
animated; her vision appeared to be not only an outward but an inward
one. She saw the landscape before her with pleasure and yet had even
greater pleasure in the reflections it brought to her mind.
Finally, the train gave an unexpected lurch in making a wide curve, and
she slipped her arm through her companion’s.
“Isn’t it heavenly, Peggy?” she demanded. And then. “I know I am
selfish, so please don’t reproach me; but sometimes I have wished that
just you and I were going to camp with Tante. We have not been away very
long, but we seem to be an odd combination.”
The other girl laughed.
“Traveling with a group of girls Tante has chosen, did you expect
anything else? The oddness of our party has probably only begun,
Bettina. You know Tante has a curious fashion of liking or disliking an
individual for what he or she happens to be, without any reference to
their circumstances. And she has selected her Camp Fire club in this
way. I suppose when you become as famous as she is you can afford to do
as you like,” Peggy Webster concluded.
In spite of the difference in their natures the two girls were devoted
friends.
Bettina now looked a little wistful.
“Tante does not like me much, does she, Peggy? Oh, I don’t mean that she
is not fond of me, because I am my mother’s daughter and, for old
associations, and she would do any kindness for me. But one knows when a
person is attracted toward one without being told. Tante is much more
interested in that queer Russian girl, Vera, and in the girl she brought
with her from Chicago.”
For a moment Peggy Webster continued to watch the landscape apparently
sailing by. Then she answered.
“I think we had better go back to the others, Bettina, as it is nearly
tea time. Yes, I agree with you that it does seem unfortunate that we
girls start out by appearing to be so uncongenial. But perhaps our Camp
Fire club life together will alter us. At least we will understand each
other better after a few months of living together anyhow. Mother says
that is one of the most important influences of the Camp Fire. You know
it is supposed to teach us to put aside the conventional society idea
and learn to care for each other as men sometimes do. We are all girls
and, whatever our circumstances, have pretty much the same needs and
ideals.”
Then feeling her cheeks crimson because she feared that her words held a
suggestion of preaching, Peggy turned and started to lead the way back
into the observation car. Bettina, however, did not at once follow her.
The rear half of the observation train was occupied by the new Sunrise
Hill Camp Fire club. Mrs. Polly Burton, the new Camp Fire guardian, sat
by one of the windows, glancing out at the great grain fields through
which their train was cutting its way like a mammoth thrashing machine.
She was elegantly dressed in a tailored suit of dark blue cloth; and
behind her hung a fur coat for use in case the weather should turn
suddenly cold. Her bags and all her appurtenances of travel showed
wealth and luxury, and yet, in spite of all this and of her
distinguished reputation, the great lady herself looked fragile and
subdued. Indeed, she bore a striking resemblance to the very Polly
O’Neill who so often used to start out on a task in a sudden burst of
enthusiasm, only to find later that she had scarcely the ability or
strength to go on.
Not alone did Bettina believe that the new club was an oddly assorted
group!
Only in Chicago had they actually begun their journey to the West
together.
Some time before, Mrs. Burton had left her sister’s home in New
Hampshire and in Chicago joined her husband, who was playing there
during the late spring season. A few days before, Mr. and Mrs. Webster
had come on from their home to Chicago in order to chaperon the new
group of Camp Fire girls that far along the way. There they had been
joined by Mrs. Burton and one other new club member besides Polly’s
French maid, Marie.
Marie had traveled with Polly everywhere since her marriage, having
charge of her clothes—both her stage and personal ones—and striving,
though vainly, to turn her mistress into the fashionable, conventional
character it was impossible for her ever to be.
At present Marie was hovering about, paying Polly small attentions which
annoyed her, and which she felt were not good for the intimacy she hoped
to establish with her Camp Fire girls.
Personally she wished to forget her usual style of life—the fatigue, the
excitement, even her own success—and to have the girls forget it. But
Marie was a constant and persistent reminder of all these things. Yet
when she had suggested to Marie that she remain behind, as she would
dislike a western camp, Marie had burst into such French tears and such
French protestations that Mrs. Burton, who was never very firm where her
affections were concerned, had given in.
Now Marie was really the most trying member of the ill-assorted party.
“Do please go back to your own place and leave me alone, Marie,” Mrs.
Burton finally said, unable longer to conceal her irritation. “I am not
a hopeless invalid and, even if I were, I should not wish you to be
constantly pushing cushions behind my back.”
Then, as Marie flounced off in a temper, Mrs. Burton laughed and sighed.
Although accustomed to having thousands of eyes fixed upon her while she
was acting, Polly had become embarrassed by the critical survey of two
pair which were at present across from her. They belonged to her own
Camp Fire group—Esther’s and Dick Ashton’s older daughter Alice, and
Ellen Deal, the young woman Sylvia Wharton had more or less thrust upon
the party.
Ellen was from a small town in Pennsylvania, but with her small, neat
figure, high color and sandy hair, she might have come from a real
English village in Yorkshire or Lancashire. She was older than the other
girls and had already showed a decided fancy for Alice Ashton. Mrs.
Burton fancied that she disapproved of her and would not try to conceal
her point of view. She might really be too blunt to make for happiness
in a Camp Fire club.
Alice Ashton was a typical Boston girl. She was like her mother in
appearance, except that her hair was a darker red, and she was handsomer
than her mother had ever been. She wore glasses and was a graduate of
Wellesley College. In accepting the Camp Fire invitation Alice had
frankly stated that she wished to make an especial study of Arizona
Indian customs for her English work the following year.
But she had not seen her mother’s old friend since she was a little girl
and, in Alice’s case, Polly also felt she had proved a disappointment.
It was natural that Alice should expect a famous actress to be
impressive in manner and appearance, and Polly Burton was neither—of
which she was well aware. She was very slight and vivid and not always
sure of herself or her moods. Really Alice gave her the feeling that she
should resign at once as Camp Fire guardian and let Alice reign in her
place. She would probably fill it far better.
But Sally Ashton was different, and Mrs. Burton felt that one might get
amusement if not edification out of Sally. The very name of Sally was an
encouragement to do or say something saucy. And this Sally had large,
soft brown eyes and wavy hair and little white, even teeth. If her
expression was at present demure, one could see possibilities behind the
demureness.
In order not to think of herself as under a critical survey, Mrs. Burton
continued studying her new group of girls.
Sally was at the moment talking to the girl whom she had invited and who
had joined the party with her at Chicago. If Gerry Williams’ history was
so unusual that it might be best not to confide her story to the Camp
Fire girls until they knew each other better, at least Mrs. Burton was
happy in the choice of her. She was so pretty and charming and seemed to
have so many possibilities if only she could have the proper influences.
Gerry was about sixteen and slender, with lovely light hair, blue eyes,
and with almost too much color in her cheeks. Fortunately she had once
been a member of a Camp Fire club in Chicago and so knew of their
methods and ideals.
There was no suggestion then that Gerry would be a problem in the new
club. Already she seemed to be making friends with most of the other
girls.
Vera—Billy’s adored friend—might be the trial. The girl had been born in
Russia and brought to the United States about six or eight years ago.
She spoke English perfectly and did not seem to be ill at ease, although
she talked very little. However, Vera’s heavy dark face, with her low
brow and long dark eyes, was an interesting one. Curiously, she was also
a friend of Mrs. Webster’s—it was Mollie who had added her plea to
Billy’s that the Russian girl be a Camp Fire guest.
“Yet, after all, what understanding had she of girls? And how little she
had seen of them since her own girlhood!” Mrs. Burton concluded.
Then, just as she was again becoming depressed, she saw her adored niece
coming down the aisle.
Peggy always brought an atmosphere of relief and reasonableness. In
fact, she discovered at once that her aunt was feeling frightened and
unequal to the plan ahead. Of course, it was a great undertaking for a
woman who had been spoiled—as Polly O’Neill Burton had been—by husband,
family, friends and an admiring public—and not in good health—to
suddenly become guide, philosopher, mother and friend to a number of
strange girls.
In spite of their audience, Peggy leaned over and kissed her.
“It will be all right, Tante; don’t be downcast. Only at present
everybody is homesick and tired as you are. Can’t we have tea? You are
not sorry we have come?”
“Certainly not,” and Polly smiled at her own childishness while she
rejoiced over Peggy’s sweetness and good sense.
Of course, she had known there would be difficulties in so original a
Camp Fire club experiment. But when did anything worth while ever
arrange itself without difficulties?
Ten minutes later two colored stewards in white uniforms had arranged
the tables and brought in tea.
In entire good humor Mrs. Burton presided while the men were kept busy
passing back and forth innumerable cups of tea and plates of sandwiches.
The girls were fifty per cent more cheerful and consequently more
agreeable. At the table nearest Mrs. Burton were Peggy, Sally Ashton and
Gerry Williams.
All at once Mrs. Burton turned to her niece.
“What in the world has become of Bettina, dear?” she demanded. “I had
not missed her until this moment. I am not a very successful old woman
who lived in a shoe with so many children she couldn’t tell what to do,
for I don’t even know when one of mine is lost.”
Peggy got up.
“Bettina is out on the back platform dreaming, I suppose. I told her to
come in with me a quarter of an hour ago. I’ll go get her.”
However, after a little time, Peggy returned alone looking a little
cross.
“Bettina has disappeared. I can’t find her,” she announced. “As I did
not want to miss tea, I asked our porter to look.”
And no one thought of being worried about Bettina until the porter came
to say that no young woman answering Bettina’s description could be
found.