I had not thought to see the morning come up out of the ocean. I beg
your pardon if I seem too enthusiastic; please remember that I was born
and brought up in Kansas and an island in the midst of the sea is almost
as thrilling an experience as the sight of a new planet. Now I'll
descend to realities and go and wash my face in the salt water. Shall
we walk or row back home? I'm starving, aren't you?"
"Then what do you say to remaining an hour longer and catching fish and
frying them for breakfast? Perhaps I can find fishing tackle in the hut
I stumbled into last night."
On the way to the water Gill called back over her shoulder.
"Don't tempt me, we must return as soon as possible."
"Then we will row home; it will be quicker and save the trouble of
bringing the boat in later. Besides, how much more dignified to row
calmly up the blue lagoon than to tramp across the island!"
Gill rejoined him and was attempting to fix her hair.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but there is nothing to suggest dignity in
either one of us at present. I am judging by your appearance and
guessing at my own."
"Sure you feel none the worse for the night outdoors?"
Then as she shook her head, Allan made no further comment, although
conscious of the fact that few persons would have passed through the
discomforts of such a night and on awaking make no reference to anything
save the beauty of the morning.
There were a number of other circumstances Allan felt he would like to
mention--the soreness of his arms and back, the stiffness of his legs, a
general shiveriness and a sensation of not having been to sleep in ages.
Yet in the face of Gill's better sporting instinct he declined to
complain. The freshness and splendor of the dawn had brought a physical
as well as spiritual exaltation.
Landing at the accustomed place in less than an hour, as they approached
the old house no one appeared to be stirring except the birds in the
eaves.
"Do you suppose by some good fortune no one has missed us? One scarcely
knows whether to be pleased or chagrined. At least I shall awaken
Bettina and recount our adventure. Good-by, I shall try to sleep most
of the day and see you to-night I hope."
As Gill nodded her farewell, Allan left her at the door of the big house
and went on to one of the cabins nearby, which was at present occupied
by the half dozen masculine guests.
By this time it was approaching six o'clock and Gill discovered that one
of the maids had unlocked the front door. Going in, she went directly
to Bettina's room. When there was no immediate answer to her knock she
walked quietly in.
Bettina sat up in bed, looking like a princess in a fairy tale with her
two long braids of light hair falling over her shoulders and her
nightdress of silk and lace. Notwithstanding Bettina's ideas of service
and devotion to the less fortunate, her mother insisted, and Bettina was
not unwilling, that she wear beautiful clothes. As her mother bought
the clothes and gave them to her, Bettina had no alternative.
"Gill, what _is_ the matter? Are you ill, do you need anything? Why
you are dressed in the same frock that you wore last night at the
dance."
Bettina rubbed her eyes, becoming more aware of her surroundings, as
Gill stood laughing and gazing down upon her.
"So this is what it means to be shipwrecked and spend the night on an
island in the society of a poet? One returns to find one never has been
missed."
"Sit down, Gill, and talk sensibly. Shipwrecked? Island? Are you still
dreaming? Did you not go up to your room last night before the dance was
over and retire before the rest of us? When I found you had vanished,
Sally told me that you had said you were tired and that no one was to
pay any attention to you if you disappeared."
"Yes, I did tell Sally that and was about to depart when Allan Drain
asked me to go for a walk with him. Afterwards we went to row for a
half hour on the lagoon, managed to slip into the bay and, when the tide
turned, were carried farther out. We discovered the island, but not the
blue lagoon and were forced to wait until daylight. I am sorry, I
realized when it was too late that I should not have gone, but tried to
make the best of it and to accept the situation in a matter-of-fact
fashion. I am going to bed now. Will you explain to your mother and
Mrs. Burton that I'll go into the details of our adventure when I am not
so tired. At least the thing I feared did not occur, you were not
frightened and did not believe the water had swallowed us up."
*CHAPTER XIII*
*THE FOLLOWING DAY*
Not in several years could Sally Ashton recall so trying a day as the
present one, not since those fateful days in France when she had nursed
an unknown soldier in a ruined chateau.
In the first place, she was worried about Gill. Characteristic of Gill
to insist that the night outdoors in the fog and cold probably had been
good for her; Sally was not under a similar impression. Devotedly and
faithfully she had nursed and watched the other girl during the past
winter, to discover that Gill possessed a boyish carelessness and lack
of judgment concerning her own health.
So in and out of Gill's room, Sally spent a portion of her morning,
carrying in the breakfast tray, insisting that Gill, in spite of her
protests, use a hot water bag prevent her taking cold.
At eleven o'clock again she tiptoed softly back, and finding Gill awake
departed to bring a glass of milk, in case she should prefer to sleep on
through luncheon.
"I may not be able to come in to see you during the afternoon, Gill;
Bettina suggests that, as she is your hostess, I might permit her to
have a little of the care of you, so I agreed. There is something else
I may have to attend to and you seem all right."
With a harrassed, even troubled air, unlike her usual serenity, Sally
stood frowning, looking not at Gill, but out the open window.
Gill stretched forth her hand.
"Sally, dear, what is the matter? You are not worrying about me, that
is too absurd! You are a perfect dear and I am everlastingly grateful,
but I have not even taken cold. There is something else on your mind.
If you don't wish to confide in me, why not tell some one, Mrs. Graham
or Mrs. Burton."
Sally failed to lift her eyes.
"No, not at present. I had thought of speaking to Aunt Betty and then
decided I had best wait. Tante is absolutely out of the question. By
the way, she was much upset when she heard what had happened to you and
Allan Drain, but after a talk with Allan is in a happier frame of mind.
I was to tell you that she would see you when you were more rested."
Sally waited, as if trying to reach a decision before stirring from her
present position.
"Gill, if there was something you believe you ought to do, would you go
ahead, even if it made some one you cared for angry?" she unexpectedly
demanded.
Gill studied her closely.
"I don't know what to answer, as would depend partly upon circumstances
But, Sally, dear, please don't get yourself into any difficulty. You
have been through a trying winter with me and are here by the blue
lagoon for a holiday."
Sally shook her head.
"I'll do my best to avoid it."
A few moments before lunch Sally discovered Dan Webster alone on the
front porch and went toward him in her sweetest and most friendly
fashion.
"It is nice to find you by yourself, Dan. You said last night that I had
been avoiding you, which was not exactly true. I have had something on
my mind and it is hard, as you know, at a house party, to slip away from
the others."
Dan laughed.
"Yes, Sally, but it is the very fact of your slipping away from the
others that I did object to. Had you gone with me I might have felt
differently."
Sally put out her hand, catching at her companion's coat sleeve.
"Promise me, Dan, that if I do something you don't like, you won't be
angry? You might have a little faith in me!"
Dan shook his head.
"Faith or no faith, Sally, I won't have you trudging over this island
alone on any kind of fool's errand. If you do what I asked you not, I
shall find it hard to forgive you. Let's not talk of this; why not come
for a walk with me this afternoon? We have not had a walk in ages!"
"No, Dan, I can't, I am sorry, but I am tired from waiting on Gill all
morning and from the dance last night and mean to have a nap."
Then to Sally's relief, Mrs. Graham appeared on the veranda and luncheon
was announced.
In the afternoon from her bedroom window Sally saw most of the house
party disappear. They were crossing over to the mainland to watch a
drill at the fort. She had declined to go, but was happy to observe
that Dan was with them and walking with Vera Lagerloff, whom he had
known since they were children.
A short time after, making a pretence of keeping her word, Sally lay
down on her bed for five minutes. Then she arose, put on a sweater and
a small, close-fitting hat and unobserved went downstairs. Instead of
going out at once, however, she slipped into the drawing-room and sat
down by a window where she was almost completely concealed by the
curtain.
She sat there about a half hour. At the end of that time another member
of the house-party appeared from a side door, glanced about her, as if
wondering whether she was observed, and then started alone, presumably
for a walk.
Not at once, but within two or three moments, Sally arose and followed
her. By walking rapidly she might be able to join her; by loitering she
might keep her in view.
As the girl walked quickly and as Sally was not fond of strenuous
exercise, she was forced to hurry in order not to lose sight of her.
After an hour and a quarter of fast walking the girl in advance reached
the small fisherman's hut which Allan Drain had discovered the night
before.
She remained waiting in the open doorway until a small boat landed on
the beach and a young man jumped out. Then she ran forward to meet him.
From her place of concealment behind a clump of trees Sally was neither
surprised nor shocked. There was no question with regard to the
likeness between Juliet Temple and her companion, plainly they were
sister and brother. Then why did Juliet Temple not bring her brother to
the "House by the Blue Lagoon"? The question puzzled and troubled
Sally.
After all, she was making a mistake. If another girl chose to have
secret meetings with her own brother, it was not her affair.
Had she not always distrusted Juliet Temple and believed she intended
some wrong purpose, never would she have pursued her present course.
Dan must never learn what she had been doing, or he might be not only
angry but disdainful.
Sally turned and started home, sitting down now and then to rest.
Having finally made up her mind to cease playing detective, she was in a
more comfortable frame of mind.
Should Juliet Temple by any chance overtake her, Sally determined to
confess.
*CHAPTER XIV*
*AN INTERVIEW*
Seated on a log and looking out toward the water, hearing some one
coming up behind her, not anxious to begin an interview which might lead
to uncomfortable explanations, Sally did not turn her head.
When some one called her name, she jumped quickly to her feet and
swinging around, faced Dan Webster.
Instantly her face grew scarlet.
"You have followed me, Dan. I shall never forgive you. Deliberately
you made a pretence of going away with the others for the afternoon in
order that I might be deceived."
Sally's words were harsher than her manner, for even as she spoke she
put her hands to her hot cheeks and her voice trembled.
Dan was looking at her as she never had seen him. His usually ruddy,
freshly colored skin had lost nearly every vestige of color, his lips
were set and hard and his blue eyes at once stern and unhappy.
"Certainly I followed you, Sally, I told you that was my intention, and
you are perfectly right in your supposition that I tricked you by
appearing to leave the island. I did this not because I really believed
you would continue your secret meetings, but because I wanted to be
convinced."
"Secret meetings!" Sally exclaimed, moving backwards a step or two and
dropping her hands at her sides. "I think it is my right, Dan, to ask
what you mean."
"Why, I mean what I said. How could I mean anything else? Please don't
make things worse by failing to tell the truth, particularly now when it
is too late to do anything else. I have been tramping about for the
past half hour trying to decide what was best. I am going directly to
Tante, and I wish you would come with me, and tell her that you have had
half a dozen secret meetings with a young fellow who lands on the island
in an out-of-the-way spot, instead of using the lagoon where he could be
seen from the house. Doubtless you will explain your reason."
Sally was silent, her face now paler than her companion's.
"Of course I know, Sally, there is no harm in what you have been doing,
but you yourself will confess that it does not look well and that anyone
who cares for you has a right to try to protect you from your own
indiscretion. Who is this fellow? Is he some friend whom you don't
think the rest of us would care to know? And for what reason? I saw
you stop behind a clump of trees and a few moments later his boat landed
and I walked away. I did mot wish actually to spy upon you. You must
only have spoken to him, as it was a brief time ago. Perhaps you are
befriending this fellow in some way; if you are, why not let me help?"
"I am befriending no one," Sally returned.
"Then come with me to Tante. Perhaps you will confide in your Camp Fire
guardian. I was never so disappointed in any human being in my life,
Sally, as I am in you. I feel as if I were in a nightmare from which I
must wake up."
[Illustration: "I Was Never So Disappointed in Any Human Being in My
Life, Sally, As I Am in You."]
Almost roughly Dan took Sally by the arm.
The next instant she had broken away and a second time seated herself on
the log.
"Go and tell whom you like, Dan Webster, and whatever you like, and not
only Tante, but Aunt Betty and the entire group of Camp Fire girls. Be
sure to miss no one. Afterwards don't speak to me again."
Hesitating, his sternness slightly relaxed, as whose would not have been
by the sight of Sally, Dan took one step in her direction and then
paused. Unexpectedly her head went down, the golden brown eyes that had
been so full of defiance the moment before, filled and brimmed over, as
she buried her head in her hands.
He was under the impression that he had been sufficiently unhappy upon
making the discovery that she was keeping a secret from her friends, but
his past unhappiness was as nothing to this.
"Sally, dear, I am afraid I spoke rudely to you. You know I was
concerned for your sake. Of course I am not going to speak of the
matter to Tante, as you'll tell her yourself at once."
"I shall do no such thing, Dan," Sally answered in a muffled tone.
Dan appeared and felt defeated.
Slowly he began walking up and down a few feet away, his head bowed, an
expression of anxiety and depression on his handsome, boyish face.
Finally he came and stood in front of the girl.
"Sally, I want to apologize to you, you must do what you think best.
You asked me to have faith in you and I have not had. Good-by. I won't
ask you to walk home with me, but come soon, dear, you are tired and
upset and ought to rest before dinner."
Dan was moving away when Sally caught up with him.
"Dan, please listen. I want to tell you what actually has happened, I
never wanted to tell anyone anything so much in my whole existence. I
am afraid you will think I have not behaved very well, but you may scold
as much as you like because I agree with you.
"Of course I have not been meeting any strange youth for any purpose
whatsoever. What I have been doing is following Juliet Temple and I have
little excuse to offer.
"Soon after her arrival I noticed that she slipped off several times
alone and one day I followed her, partly from curiosity and the old
distrust I always have felt for her. It is a curious thing, Dan. I
believe Juliet is honestly fond of Tante, but I think in the end she
will use her for her own purpose.
"Well, Juliet went farther than I expected and I saw her meet some one
whom I feel sure is her brother, as they look so exactly alike.
Besides, I heard that he was a soldier and most of the time he is in
uniform. It is Juliet's affair of course and she probably has some
legitimate excuse for not wishing us to know him, but I confess it
troubles me.
"In a way I feel I owe an apology to Juliet, but it might be more
comfortable for us both not to speak of it. I was just reaching a
decision to forget the whole matter when you interrupted and frightened
me. If you doubt what I have told you, Dan, you can wait until Juliet
returns and tell her what I have told you. I would prefer she and Tante
should both know than that you should doubt me."
"But I don't doubt your word, Sally; nothing would ever induce me to
doubt you now or in the future," Dan returned with more earnestness than
his previous point of view gave him the excuse for possessing. "Besides,
now I recall that twice I have seen Juliet Temple not far away, soon
after observing you. I am a dunce and a blockhead and your devoted
friend, Sally.
"Why in the world do you feel this distrust of Juliet Temple? No wonder
Tante thinks she has a hard time among you girls and appeals to me to be
kind to her. She seems to me a tiresome kind of girl, who isn't capable
of anything out of the ordinary. She is clever enough to be a good
secretary, or companion, or whatever she is to Tante, and that is the
end of it."
"Think so, Dan? Well, perhaps you are right," Sally replied. "Suppose
we hurry home. I don't wish to appear as if you had made me cry,
although it is perfectly true that you have."
"Never as long as we live shall I trouble you again."
Wise in things feminine, Sally shook her head and smiled.
*CHAPTER XV*
*TWISTED COILS*
"If you can finish, Juliet, without further assistance from me, I
believe I will go and look for the Camp Fire girls. They have been so
busy with their own affairs of late, I feel slightly neglected. Then do
take a walk, or lie down, whichever you prefer. You have been looking a
little nervous and pale of late. I would understand if you had been
working hard, but we both have been having a holiday."
Mrs. Burton stood before her mirror making soft little pats at her hair,
characteristic of all girls and women.
She had on a house dress of crepe de chine in a curious shade of old
gold with a girdle of brown velvet.
"I can't become accustomed to my appearance in this dress, Juliet. It
seems to me I look rather worse than usual. I wish it were becoming to
you so I might present it to you, but I am afraid the color is wrong."
Juliet Temple made no reply and seemed scarcely to have heard what had
been said to her. She was seated at a desk with several bills and a
check book before her.
As Mrs. Burton, preparing to leave the room, opened the door, she said
in a low tone:
"Would you mind signing these checks before you go? One is for the rent
of the apartment."
"Tante, won't you come for a ride with us around the island? We won't
be long!" Bettina Graham called at the same instant from outside in the
hall.
"Wait a moment, dear, and I'll join you. Give me the checks, Juliet,
please. What an abominable pen! Are the three all you wish me to
sign?"
"Yes, all for the present," Juliet answered, gathering them hastily
together and placing one over the other.
At the same time Mrs. Burton went out of the room.
"I don't feel like driving, Bettina. I was intending to see what you
girls were doing and perhaps have an impromptu Camp Fire meeting. We
have been neglecting our Council meetings of late and it is not a good
plan, yet I know it is difficult with so many masculine guests to be
entertained. Who is going for the drive?"
"Oh, no one except my shadows, as you call my two small girls, and David
Hale and Marguerite Arnot. Marguerite has been so busy helping mother
look after the house she and David have scarcely been able to exchange a
word, and you know I always have wished them to be friends. Mother said
she would go if you liked, but not otherwise."
"Are the other girls here? I'll find mother when she has rested, I know
this is the hour she lies down."
"Yes, I think they are in the house somewhere. I am not sure about
Sally. I heard Dan ask her to go for a row and heard Sally decline, but
she may have changed her mind, even Sally sometimes does change her
mind--for Dan.
"I must hurry, but if you pass my room, dear, will you look at the old
English prints that father found and presented me for my sitting-room.
They are so lovely I feel mother should have them, but she insists not."
Bettina ran off down the stairs and Mrs. Burton moved toward the front
of the old house, where Bettina's apartment of bedroom and sitting-room
was located.
Coming toward her through the hall with a book under his arm was Allan
Drain.
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Burton, if I am intruding by being up here,
when I know this second floor is the feminine part of the house, but
Miss Bettina told me I could get this book from her bookcase. I was
trying to escape without being discovered."
The Camp Fire guardian laughed.
"Oh, the situation is not so serious as that. You need not run away.
Stop a moment, won't you? I want to speak to you. I have been
intending to for the past ten days. I am afraid you think I am unkind
and selfish not to allow you to read your new play to me. I know Mrs.
Graham tried to explain as pleasantly as possible, but the fact remains
that I did refuse, even when she asked me and I don't like to refuse her
many things. I was tired; you see I have not acted for a number of
years and the past winter was a good deal of a strain. Besides, I am the
poorest kind of a critic! I want you to know that I trust your play will
be a great success, and if not this, then the next one. It is a long
and oftentimes difficult road you have started to travel, yet I presume
it is like acting, if the thing is in your blood, you must keep at it
through good and ill. Forgive me and understand my attitude. I am
afraid I am growing more selfish as I grow older, but I don't wish you
to feel this all unkindness, I might have to say something discouraging
and I might be wrong and then I should have hurt you for nothing."
Polly Burton held out her hand in the simple, friendly fashion
characteristic of her. As the young fellow took it and held it for an
instant she saw in his face the beauty and honor of a sincere and ardent
admiration, not for her as a woman, but as an artist.
"Thank you," he returned, "I do understand and I have not the least
right to trouble you. You have been too kind in the past. The road is
hard because I have my living to make and cannot afford to work and wait
as one should. I only trust I have the courage to hold out."
Waiting for Mrs. Burton to move away, his eyes never left her,
consciously studying the slender, graceful figure, the small head with
its mass of dark hair and the brilliant blue eyes, the mark of her Irish
inheritance, yet of less interest than the long, too thin face, with the
pointed chin and the irregular, deeply colored lips.
"Have you a name for your play? The title is so important. I hated the
title of mine last winter, in spite of its Shakespearean significance it
was too difficult to say, 'A Tide in the Affairs'."
"Yes, I think I have. Only the other night Miss Gilchrist, Gill, gave
it to me by accident while we waited for the coming of morning by our
Camp Fire. She spoke of flame as 'The Red Flower'. Do you like it,
'The Red Flower', as a title?"
Mrs. Burton uttered a little exclamation.
"Yes, I do, immensely. See here, Allan, would you like to compromise
with me and allow me to read your play to myself. If I like it I shall
tell you so; if I don't I shall say nothing, so as not to influence you.
In any case I should prefer not having you read it aloud. Most persons
read so poorly and if they don't, it is more confusing. I can get my
own impression much better if I am alone and it is under my own eyes."
Allan gripped the mahogany post of the balustrade until the veins stood
up on his hands.
"You mean you really will read it? Of course I should rather you would
read it to yourself. I should be sure to make a wreck of it. Yet I
ought not to be such a nuisance, and please don't think I expect you to
say anything good of it."
Again Mrs. Burton laughed.
"Look here, Allan, I know the artistic temperament too well to be
deceived by you. You don't mind being a nuisance one bit if you can
have your own way, no one of us artists minds. And, my dear boy, of
course you expect me to say your play is good; if you did not, you would
never allow me to look at it. You expect this one moment and the next
you are in utter despair because you are convinced it is the poorest
play ever written or conceived.
"I'll do my best for you, only you must not worry if I am rather a time
getting at it. I must rest and forget the theater for a little longer."
"I shall wait forever, if you desire and be everlastingly grateful
always," Allan said so fervently that Polly Burton, recalling her own
youth had an emotion of sympathy and determined not to keep him waiting
for her judgment for any great length of time.
Bettina's sitting-room door was open and the moment after she went in
and stood looking about the room.
Youth was always hard to understand, even if it understood itself, which
it never does.
Here was Bettina's little apartment as exquisite as any girl could dream
of, or desire. The rugs were of a wonderful blue, the color she loved
best, the walls more lightly colored, the furniture not the massive
mahogany of most old southern houses, but of an English design, the
famous Chippendale. Outside her windows Bettina had a view of the blue
lagoon and the wider bay beyond. Yet she preferred to leave all this
beauty and luxury and spend her life in the slums.
"Well, life is only an expression of human personality, and if Bettina
is in earnest, she has the right to do what she wishes," Mrs. Burton
thought, as she picked up one of the prints Bettina had asked her to
examine.
As she stood holding it in her hand she heard Alice Ashton and Vera
Lagerloff talking together in the adjoining room with the door between
partly open.
"Don't you think, Vera, that one or the other of us should go at once to
Aunt Patricia? I know she said neither of us was to come, but that does
not alter our responsibility. She must need some one."
Mrs. Burton put down the picture she scarcely had seen and took a step
forward, then paused.
"It is so impossible to think of Aunt Patricia as poor, isn't it? Ever
since we have known her she has been lavishing her wealth in every
direction, upon every one except herself. It is like her now to declare
that she has paid the rent of our little New York apartment for a year
and that we are not to think of making any changes before then. Don't
you suppose we can persuade her to come and live with us for the present
at least until she decides what she wishes to do permanently?" Vera
suggested.
"Yes, but Aunt Patricia insists she is going to find work, that at last
she is glad she never has had a gray hair. She seems really not to be
so unhappy over the situation as we are for her. Her only fear
apparently is that we shall take Tante into our confidence concerning
her. And frankly this makes me uncomfortable! I think Tante should be
told. But I shall leave you to talk the matter over with Aunt Betty. I
am going to Boston in the morning. I shall see father and mother and
ask them to go with me to Aunt Patricia's house, it is just outside of
town. Then we can face the situation together."
"An excellent idea, Alice, but I shall go in your place. I have just
overheard what you and Vera were saying. As you were speaking of Aunt
Patricia and I think it my right to know of her, notwithstanding her
attitude toward me, I made no effort not to hear.
"Now, please tell me in detail so far as you know what has occurred."
An instant Alice Ashton hesitated, but there was something in her Camp
Fire guardian's manner and expression that commanded obedience. Very
seldom in her life had she assumed this attitude, when she did, no one
dreamed of opposing her.
"Why, yes, Tante, I'll tell you and am very glad to be relieved of the
responsibility. This morning unexpectedly Vera and I received a long
letter from Aunt Patricia. We had not heard in several weeks. In the
letter she explains that she had been intending to write for some time,
but was waiting until she understood more definitely what condition her
affairs were in. She stated that she had known for some time that she
had been spending too much money and had drawn upon her capital, as well
as using her entire income. Her lawyer has told her several times that
she must retrench, but being Aunt Patricia she had paid no attention to
him. Well, the climax came when Aunt Patricia learned that the home she
is erecting for war orphans in France is to cost double what she had
expected it would cost. The fault has been chiefly her own; she has
been adding all kinds of things, playgrounds and an outdoor school and a
specially fitted-up hospital for the children in a separate building.
You may know more than I do about it.
"When she went to her lawyers with the information that she required
twice the sum she originally told them to raise, they declared this
could not be accomplished without leaving her virtually penniless. She
too had been buying oil stock like the rest of the world, hoping to gain
more money for her orphans and the stock had turned out to be worthless.
"Aunt Patricia does not seem to care a great deal. She announces that
she has secured the necessary money for her war orphans and the building
will be completed with all the recent improvements. She apologizes
because she will not have the money to allow Vera and me continue our
college course when this year is over. Neither will she be able to keep
up her place in Boston, but this is incidental."
"Oh, that will make no special difference to Aunt Patricia, as she never
has been fond of the place. It was her brother's home and they were
very different characters. She will live with me in the future."
Observing Vera and Alice exchange a glance, Mrs. Burton smiled.
"You don't believe she will consent to this, do you, considering the
fact that she has declined to speak to me for nearly a year?
Nevertheless I assure you she will. It is not worth while for you to
accompany me, Alice; I prefer to go to Boston alone. I shall bring Aunt
Patricia here until we make our summer plans. I must find Mrs. Graham
now and learn whether Aunt Patricia has written her. Good-by."
A moment later the two friends met face to face.
"I have been looking for you in your own room, Polly. Come into my
room, won't you? I have just received a surprising letter from Aunt
Patricia in which she insists I am not to confide her misfortune to you.
This is nonsense, when you are the one person in the world who can give
her the affection and help she requires. I don't believe Aunt Patricia
will care particularly for the loss of her fortune if the loss restores
you to her."
"Thank you, Betty, dear, you need feel no anxiety. Now that I may be
able to do something for Aunt Patricia, and not accept everything from
her, I have not the least idea of permitting her to behave in her old,
obstinate, absurd fashion. Thank goodness, we shall be friends soon
again; no one dreams how much I have missed her during this past
winter!"
"You don't think Aunt Patricia will refuse to see you?"
Polly Burton shook her head.
"I don't care in the least if she does refuse at first. There are
occasions, Betty, dear, when you know I can be as obstinate a woman as
Aunt Patricia Lord. I shall be away about five days. You will let me
bring her back with me?"
*CHAPTER XVI*
*THE DISAPPEARANCE*
"Juliet Temple has not returned, Sally. Mother feels uneasy and told me
to ask if you knew anything of her plans. We feel especially
responsible now that Tante is away, as she made it a point that we were
to look after Juliet while she was gone and see that she was not
lonely."
"Why, what has happened, Bettina?" Sally inquired serenely. "I am sure
you have been more than attentive for the past few days."
The long twilights were beginning and with dinner over, Sally and Dan
were sitting in the hammock under the linden trees, one of Sally's
favorite resorts.
The other members of the house party were in the garden, where already a
few tiny spears were appearing from seeds planted but a brief time ago,
so swift had been the arrival of the heat that of late there had been
days more like summer than spring.
"Well, perhaps Juliet was so bored with my society that she has
preferred to run away. She told mother this morning that she wished to
go to the mainland on the early boat and would be away all day. Mother
made a point of making her promise to return in the afternoon. But now
the last boat has come and gone and there is no chance of her reaching
the island until to-morrow, unless some friend brings her across, which
does not seem probable. We might go over in the motor launch and search
for her, but discovering her would be another matter."
"Didn't Juliet intend to spend the night away from the island?" Sally
inquired. "Otherwise why did she take her suit case? I saw her starting
off with it."
"She wished to bring back her purchases and said she thought this would
be the simplest method of carrying them. I declare I don't know what we
ought to do. I would not for a great deal have Juliet in any difficulty;
the very fact that Tante thinks we do not like her would make me more
uncomfortable if matters have gone wrong."
"Is there anything I can do to be useful?" Dan asked. "Tell Aunt Betty
that of course I am at her service."
There was in Dan's manner a constraint that puzzled Bettina, while Sally
continued to rock idly to and fro, Dan having risen on Bettina's
arrival.
"You seem remarkably uninterested, Sally," she declared with unusual
irritability, since ordinarily Bettina possessed a fine self-control.
"Sorry," Sally answered calmly, "but you see, my dear, I have a
conviction that Juliet Temple is well able to take care of herself.
Suppose we walk to the house, so that Dan may ask Aunt Betty if she
wishes him to do anything in the matter.
"You and I might go up to Juliet's room and investigate. Endeavor to
discover if she has taken any of her belongings which might give one the
idea that she planned to be away over night."
"Oh, very well, Sally, although it seems unnecessary. If Juliet wished
to remain away who would or could have objected, so what possible reason
for secrecy? Being a determined person, however, perhaps I had best do
as you say.
"Dan, you will find mother in the drawing-room. Ask her to take no
steps until Sally and I report any discovery we may make. Has it ever
occurred to you that Sally is under the impression she has a gift for
detective work?"
Her speech was a perfectly idle one so Bettina was puzzled to observe
Sally blush uncomfortably and lower her eyes, while Dan said "No" in an
annoyed tone.
Ten minutes after, the two girls were standing facing each other in
Juliet Temple's room, which adjoined Mrs. Burton's larger one.
"Really, Sally dear, I do not like to peer into Juliet's private closet
or bureau drawers. Would you mind looking first, since after all I am
her hostess and you are not."
Sally smiled the demure smile with which she covered a number of
situations.
"So, Bettina, you wish me to do something you have an aversion to doing
yourself? Never mind, I don't particularly object and you do. Besides,
the suggestion originated with me and if I am right or wrong, I shall
summon the courage to confess to Juliet, although I shall not enjoy it.
I shall tell her that Aunt Betty was uneasy and we thought perhaps she
had arranged to spend the night with friends and used this method to
find out."
So saying, Sally drew forth the top drawer of the mahogany chest of
drawers, then a second and a third drawer; each and every one was
entirely empty.
Without comment the two girls walked across the room and together
unfastened the closet door; not a dress or garment of any kind hung
inside.
"Sally, Juliet does not intend to return! _Why_, I don't understand, we
have done our best to be courteous and she might at least have said
good-by. I presume she has gone to Tante's New York apartment. Do you
think we should telegraph and say she is no longer here."
Sally shook her head.
"Not for the present, but of course we must tell Aunt Betty and Dan and
learn their opinion. Wait another moment, please."
Returning to the empty drawers, Sally began searching diligently
underneath the neatly folded papers lining each one. Finally she
removed them.
"I thought it barely possible Juliet might have left a note for Tante.
She understands that she is to return in another thirty-six hours and
probably would wish to explain to her."
"Here is a letter, Sally, addressed to Mrs. Richard Burton and sealed
with sealing wax!" Bettina exclaimed, having answered Sally's suggestion
by entering the adjoining room and slipping her hand under one of the
pillows of Mrs. Burton's bed.
"I presume this letter does inform Tante why Juliet found existence with
the Camp Fire girls by the blue lagoon so disagreeable that she could
not endure the experience during the week of her absence. Well, I am
just as glad we discovered the letter and grateful to you, Sally, for
the idea. I never have pretended that you do not understand human
nature better than the rest of us, although no one would guess the fact
except through long acquaintance with you. Juliet, I suppose, never
dreamed that we would search Tante's bed for the concealed letter and so
believed it would not be unearthed until her return. I don't know what
gave me the inspiration to look there? Personally I wish Juliet had
vanished from Tante's life for all time, rather than until the close of
her visit to us. Let us go down to the drawing-room and make our
report. I'll bear the letter with me and see if mother thinks we should
dare open it."
"No, I do not consider it wise to open Polly's letter," Mrs. Graham
stated ten minutes later. "She is so unnecessarily sensitive about the
girl, I don't wish her to feel that we regard Juliet's behavior as more
than ordinarily discourteous. I am relieved that she planned her
disappearance, so she is not in any trouble. Polly will decide what is
best when she learns what Juliet wishes her to know. Put the letter in
Polly's room, please, Bettina, dear, not under her pillow, that seems to
imply secrecy; lay it upon her desk where she will be apt to observe it
soon after her arrival. Thank goodness, she will be at home after
another day and two nights. She has been with me so little in the past
years I begrudge the loss of each day."
Bettina sat down on the arm of her mother's chair.
"Is Aunt Patricia coming with Tante, mother, you have not said?"
"Yes, I think so, I have had a room made ready, although in Polly's last
letter Aunt Patricia still seemed to be arguing the question. I never
have had much doubt, however, that she finally would do what Polly
insists upon.
"However, the battle will not be severe, as Aunt Patricia is longing to
surrender."
*CHAPTER XVII*
*THE RETURN*
The entire house party was down at the landing to meet the little boat
which was to bring the Camp Fire guardian back to the "House by the Blue
Lagoon."
She was seen standing on the deck looking younger and slighter than ever
with Miss Patricia Lord's tall, gaunt figure beside her.
The instant the boat reached the shore, after receiving an enthusiastic
welcome, Alice Ashton and Vera Lagerloff took Miss Patricia by the arm
in an effort to separate her from the others, while Bettina, Sally, Mary
Gilchrist, Marguerite Arnot and the two younger girls, Elce and Maida,
surrounded Mrs. Burton.
Mrs. Graham seized the opportunity to whisper as she kissed her friend.
"Hail, the conquering hero comes, Polly!" to have the other woman
murmur:
"Oh, do be careful, please, Betty. I'll tell you everything when we are
alone. You don't know what I have been through and how little like a
conqueror I feel."
Then Mrs. Graham left her and supplanted Alice by Miss Patricia's side.
"Don't you think Polly is looking pretty well, Aunt Patricia?"
Pausing in her long strides, Miss Patricia frowned.
"Fairly well, better perhaps that I expected, but never so strong as we
would have her, Betty. However, she is a wilful woman and it cannot be
helped. It has nearly broken my heart, Betty, to have been separated
from her so long, and the fault was altogether her own. Polly agrees
that it was."
"Certainly, Aunt Patricia, if you and Polly feel this to be true, I have
no thought of differing with you. Here is David Hale wanting to speak
to you. Bettina and I gave our masculine guests the instruction this
morning that they were to keep in the background until we were allowed
to welcome you. You and David are such old friends he seems not to
intend to wait his turn."
"I insist that Miss Patricia allow me to carry her bag. I have seen her
decline to allow Miss Ashton or Miss Lagerloff to touch it, but whether
it contains bonds or precious stones I will not run away with it, Aunt
Patricia."
Entering her own room, followed by Mrs. Graham and Miss Lord, Mrs.
Burton moved quickly across and opened the door of the room adjoining.
She then turned:
"Betty, where is Juliet? I wondered why she did not come to meet me with
the other girls and now she is not in her room. Is anything the matter?"
Picking up the letter from the desk Mrs. Graham extended it toward her
friend.
"I don't think so, Polly, although I scarcely know. Juliet Temple left
here without telling me that she intended to leave; it was only a day or
so ago and we decided it best to await your return. The letter she
addressed to you will probably explain. We concluded that she was
homesick without you here and has gone to your apartment."
"I am sorry, Betty, I am afraid Juliet has not been polite, when I
especially asked your permission to allow her to join us.
"Juliet Temple has written me that she has forged my check for two
thousand five hundred dollars and has gone with her brother to Canada.
She is perfectly frank, poor child, and tells how and why. The fault is
partly through my carelessness! A few days before I left Juliet asked
me to sign a check for two hundred and fifty dollars for the rent of my
New York apartment. I was in a hurry at the time and I believe took her
word for it and did not look at the check. She tells me she had so
arranged that she could change the amount, which she did at once.
"Her brother was in the army and stationed not far from here. She has
been in the habit of seeing him since we have been on the island.
Juliet has always insisted that he was the one person in the world she
cared for and that he had given her nothing but sorrow. It seems that
he has been committing a number of offences and expected to be
court-martialed, but instead of submitting, had planned to desert. For
his sake Juliet appears to have lost all sense of honor or duty toward
me. She seems convinced that I will not prosecute her. She tells me
she was leaving immediately for New York, where she will have the check
cashed (she is in the habit of cashing my checks). Afterwards, she and
her brother intend to make their home in Canada and never return to the
United States! A pretty desperate situation, isn't it?"
"Yes, Polly, but I'll telegraph to Anthony in Washington and, if it can
be accomplished, he will see that the girl is found and brought back. I
am so distressed for you, it is such a large sum of money and you have
trusted the girl so completely."
"Yes, Betty, but I don't want Juliet found and punished. I have no
right to feel or behave like this and every one of you must say exactly
what you like to me. I know I am absolutely wrong and that she ought to
be made to suffer the legal penalty, but I simply haven't the force of
character or the courage. I could not endure to think of a girl who has
been so near me, who has lived as a member of my family and been good to
me in many small ways, shut up in prison for the rest of her youth."
"Yes, Polly, I know, let us not talk of this now. Painful as it is, you
cannot allow yourself to be so sentimental and cowardly, dear! Besides,
the money is a great deal more than you and Richard can possibly afford
to lose!"
"Goodness, I had forgotten that! It is not only _more_ than we can
afford to lose, it is nearly all the money we possess at present. Juliet
must have known. We saved from the amount I earned last winter only
what we thought sufficient to last through the summer, until I returned
to work in the autumn; the rest Richard has devoted to the payments he
and I feel called upon to make."
"Yes, and a nice time, Polly Burton, for you to assume the added
responsibility of an old woman to support!" Miss Patricia said harshly.
"Do you think, Aunt Patricia, that this is the time for you to say
unkind things to me? Don't you think I have a good deal to bear and
that you might not make it harder?"
Too overcome to speak, Miss Patricia nodded and actually two tears
rolled unchecked down her gaunt cheeks.
"I am afraid Richard will be terribly worried and annoyed over my
carelessness," Mrs. Burton said childishly.
"Richard Burton! Let him dare utter a word! Who was it brought that
unpleasant girl, whom I never liked at any time, into our home at Half
Moon Lake? I remember his saying something or other about being a
knight errant!" Miss Patricia snorted, and the girls, Polly Burton and
Betty Graham broke into hysterical laughter that saved the situation.
"I fear that from the first Juliet Temple realized that I was an easy
person to deceive. In her letter she also confides the fact that when
she told me she had been wrongfully accused in her office in Washington,
she did this in order that I might be impressed with the idea that she
would not have confessed had she been guilty.[*] Well, at least I
rejoice that you girls were never deceived by her and that Juliet was
never a member of our Sunrise Camp Fire. Let us speak of her as little
as possible in the future."
[*] See "Camp Fire Girls at Half Moon Lake."
"And Polly, you are not to worry over money; of course Anthony and I are
not rich, but you may have anything that we possess. Why not make me
the happiest of human beings and you and Aunt Patricia and Richard spend
the summer here with me in the 'House by the Blue Lagoon'? You may do
whatever you wish and we'll not trouble you," Mrs. Graham urged.
"You are an angel, Betty, but Aunt Patricia and Richard and I must hide
somewhere where I can work and study, if I can find a play for next
winter. Now may I lie down for a little while?"
A few moments later, in Miss Patricia's bedroom, she and her hostess
continued the discussion.
"What do you think, Aunt Patricia? Ought we allow Polly to permit this
girl to go free, in spite of her deceit and treachery?"
"I don't know what else is possible, Betty. Polly is wrong, she nearly
always is wrong, and yet to punish the girl would have a most disastrous
effect upon her. There is a sweetness about her and a generosity; Polly
has been most generous and sweet to me, Betty, when I have behaved very
badly and so I would not care to influence her, if I could, to be severe
upon any one else."
"Don't, Aunt Patricia, speak of yourself in any such connection! But
about the money, Polly will never allow us to help her. She never would
accept anything from anyone save you, and now you can no longer afford
to help."
A moment Miss Patricia sat crumpling a large, masculine-looking
handkerchief in her capable hands, while a flush spread over her face
that amazed her companion.
"Betty Graham, I desire to make a confession to you and to request you
to keep my secret until such time as I may be willing to speak of it
myself. The truth is I am not so poor as I have allowed you and Polly
and the Camp Fire girls to believe. I have lost money, my home for
French orphans is costing twice the amount I had expected it would cost,
and I have found it an excellent arrangement to rent my house near
Boston and to live as economically as possible, but I am not a pauper.
Now do use your intelligence and understand why I have wished you to be
deceived.
"Apparently I had hopelessly estranged Polly and had reached a point
where I could not any longer endure being apart from her. Some weeks
ago she sent me word through Richard that never so long as she lived
would she accept anything more at my hands and that she had entreated me
to make friends with her for the last time. There are occasions you
know when Polly can be singularly obstinate. So what was I to do?
Appeal to her sympathy, make her believe there was something she could
do for me. Mavourneen, I knew she would fly to my rescue. So I sent out
the word and she came and now I shall be parted from her no more. But,
Betty, my dear, Polly shall never suffer. Do not believe that I shall
fail to keep sufficient money to see she has all she desires. For the
present let us have our little house and our summer together and Polly
the belief that she is caring for me. I shall dread the day when she
learns what I have told you."
*CHAPTER XVIII*
*THE ETERNAL WAY*
The Eternal Way lies before him,
The Way that is made manifest in the Wise.
The Heart that loves reveals itself to man,
For now he draws nigh to the Source,
The night advances fast,
And lo! the moon shines bright.
"Will you come into the garden for a farewell talk with me, Bettina?
You know, I leave for Washington in the morning."
"In a quarter of an hour, David. I must see that my two small girls are
in bed before I join you. Suppose you wait for me on the beach near the
sun dial."
The night was warm and instead of sitting down David Hale walked about,
thinking of a very different garden where first he had met Bettina
Graham, the "Queen's Secret Garden", near "The Little Trianon" in the
great park at Versailles.
He remembered his own surprise upon discovering an American girl half
asleep in the shadow of a group of statuary and startled into
wakefulness by his unexpected approach.
So their acquaintance had begun in a romantic setting that David thought
never to find repeated. To-night he was by no means sure the
surroundings were not equally lovely.
The moon was rising before the afterglow had wholly faded. A light
breeze made the delicate green leaves rustle on a hundred nearby trees,
the magnolias were in bloom over the entire island, scenting the night
air with their heavy, tropical fragrance.
In the moonlight and the last of the purple twilight, David Hale was
devoting little attention to these details. He was thinking with the
concentration over which he had a special mastery, of something he
wished to say to Bettina Graham and of how he had best say it.
She waved a long blue scarf as she came running down the path toward
him.
"I did not keep you waiting long, David, did I? I am sorry you must go
to-morrow, but then the house party will break up in another week or ten
days and I am returning to New York. After all, it is a shorter journey
for you to come back to the 'House by the Blue Lagoon' than for me, and
you know mother and Marguerite Arnot are always pleased to see you. I
wish I could reach here so easily; for a number of reasons it is going
to be very hard to leave the island, our island. I have a fashion of
saying 'our island' over again to myself every now and then because it
seems so incredible that we can own such an exquisite spot and that it
is no farther away from the outside world. Why, except that it is not
tropical, we might almost deceive ourselves into believing that we were
on one of the south sea islands!"
"Then why do you go, Bettina, unless you wish? There certainly can be
no other reason and your mother will be distressed at your departure.
It is so impossible for me to understand your point of view. Your home
is here and no other place can be so beautiful!"
"I know, David," Bettina answered gently, "and yet I have tried so often
to explain to you and to other people: beautiful as this place is and
loving it as I do, yet my work and life are no more here than your own.
You are going back to Washington, David; you are very ambitious and some
day intend to have a political career. Suppose this were your home
instead of mine, would you stay here always? Would you give up your
work and your ambition and your future to live in an island of dreams?
"No, of course you would not? Then why do you think I should? Oh, I
know the answer, I have gone into the subject so many times--because I
am a girl and there is no reason why I should devote myself to social
work, when my father is a man of prominence and some wealth and my
mother all that is sweet and charming and popular. I am not going to
talk about myself, only you do know my reason and you could understand
my point of view if you would make the effort. Instead of caring less
for my work after a few months of effort and experience, I care more
than at the beginning."
"I am sorry, Bettina."
Bettina laughed.
"Why should you be? Mother and father are becoming more reconciled."
She and David had not ceased walking now they stopped and Bettina leaned
over the sun dial.
"I am glad our garden boasts a sun dial, as it would not be half so
picturesque without, yet the inscription is curious and taken from an
ancient Japanese poem, which would seem to make it a moon dial and
appropriate to-night, David. I can repeat it because I think I know the
poem by heart:
"The Eternal Way lies before him,
The Way that is made manifest in the Wise.
The Heart that loves reveals itself to man
For now he draws nigh to the Source,
The night advances fast,
And lo! the moon shines bright.
"See David, even in the poem the Way lies before _him_, not before
_her_."
"There is only one way that I wish lay before you, Bettina, the way of
learning to care for me. Please don't interrupt me, this cannot be
altogether a surprise to you. I think I tried to make you see how I felt
toward you at the beginning of our acquaintance, although I did my best
to wait until your mother and father had learned to know something of me
and until you were older. I would wait now if you were not becoming so
absorbed in the work you have undertaken that I am afraid you will lose
all interest in me. My dear Bettina, affection is the supreme thing and
if you will only wait and have faith in me, some day I may be able to
offer you a name and a future of which you may be proud."
Bettina shook her head.
"David, I am glad you said this to me, as I wish to be perfectly frank.
No, I am not altogether surprised, yet I am going to sound as if I were
unappreciative and unkind. I not only don't care for you in the way you
desire, but I never could learn to care. I dread the whole thought of
romance and sincerely hope it may never come into my life. I have my
work and my family and friends and please never speak of this again."
"But if it should come, Bettina, when you are older and wiser and less
self-absorbed, would I, could I have any chance with you then?"
"No, David Hale, never; from the first I have never wanted you to be
anything but my friend. Please let me say good-by and good luck to you.
There is some one else in the garden and I am afraid we might be
overheard."
"Good-night, and good-by for a long time, Bettina. I am sorry to have
troubled you."
As Bettina ran on, Robert Burton stepped in front of her.
"You are not going indoors on a night like this, Miss Graham! Why not
stay and talk to me for a while? I don't know what the other fellow has
done to make you in such haste, but I shall try to be more agreeable.
You have been very kind to have asked me here, but I have seen less of
my hostess than I counted on seeing.
"Remember when we are back in New York you have promised to take me to
one of your settlement houses and make me useful, if it is possible that
an idle fellow like I am can be useful to anyone."
"Yes, no, thank you, but I must go in," Bettina protested. "Nothing has
happened, but I am in a good deal of a hurry. Why are you idle? Please
understand I don't wish you to help with the settlement work on my
account, not unless you feel a deep interest in the work itself."
"Yes? Well, that is one way of stating the case," Robert Burton
answered. "Wasn't I a good Samaritan when you were lost in New York?"
Bettina did not answer, already having vanished up the path toward the
house.
At the same moment that Bettina was escaping in one direction, Mary
Gilchrist was hurrying down the front lawn toward the lagoon in search
of Allan Drain.
She was a good deal excited and considerably out of breath.
Allan appeared extremely comfortable lying on the bottom of the anchored
boat with his face upturned to the sky.
"Oh, Allan, I have the most wonderful news for you!" Gill exclaimed,
giving a flying leap and landing in the bottom of the boat which rocked
dangerously at her descent.
"If you have, Gill, I think it your duty not to attempt to drown me
before I am able to hear it," Allan expostulated, straightening up and
removing the sofa cushions upon which he had been resting and tossing
one of them to Gill.
"Really, Gill, of late you have been returning to those boyish habits
and manners which I found so reprehensible in you at the beginning of
our acquaintance. After you have confided to me your thrilling
information do you think you can sit calm and speechless in this boat
for the next half hour?
"I had escaped from the others in order to enjoy a little peace and
solitude, which is so difficult to attain upon a house party. You may
not have intended it, but at the instant you plunged into this boat I am
under the impression that you destroyed an immortal sonnet. I cannot
recall a line at present, that is why I feel so convinced it was
immortal."
"A thousand times I crave your pardon, Allan Drain. You know I have a
fashion of banishing your poetic muse. However, return to your
poetizing, I can sit here in silence for a half hour or more _before_
telling you my wonderful news just as readily as _after_ telling it to
you."
Five minutes passed.
Finally Allan yawned.
"See here, Gill, I think you might confide what you came to say. I have
an idea that it is of small importance--girls' secrets usually are--but
it bores me to have you sit there with your lips tightly pressed
together, as if the words would rush through otherwise, and your face
white and your eyes shining. If any good fortune has come to you, Gill,
please tell me. You know how glad I shall be."
"The good fortune is not mine, it is yours, only it is mine also because
I am so glad for you."
"Then let me hear what it is. I know you too well to believe you would
try to deceive me," Allan answered, as if he were fighting against a
hope he dared not permit himself to hold.
"It cannot be possible that Mrs. Burton has a good word to say for my
play!"
"More than that, Allan, she is very enthusiastic. Now do keep still and
I shall tell you everything I know. The night of her return to the
'House by the Blue Lagoon', Mrs. Burton was feeling restless and unhappy
over something that was troubling her a great deal, and so was unable to
sleep. She rose up out of bed and wrote a letter to her husband; when
she had finished, as your play was in her desk, she picked it up and
began looking it over, with no thought of actually reading it at the
time. Something interested her, a line, or a character, and she read on
until she had finished. When she lay the play down and turned off the
electric light dawn had come. Still she remained unable to sleep."
"You mean she was thinking of my play?"
"Yes, Allan, I do mean that, she was thinking of it, but she was
distrusting her own judgment and determined to wait until a day or more
had passed in order to read the play again before arriving at a decision
or speaking to any one concerning it.
"This afternoon she read it for the second time and after dinner asked
Mrs. Graham and Aunt Patricia and me to come into her sitting-room. She
explained that she asked me rather than any one of the other Camp Fire
girls, because of late we have appeared to be special friends and
because accidentally I gave your play its title: 'The Red Flower'. She
told me I was to come and tell you how much she liked it before she
spoke to you herself, so that perhaps you would forgive me for the loss
of your poems a year ago.
"Allan, why don't you say something? What is the matter? I simply go on
talking in this stupid fashion because you won't speak."
"I can't, Gill, not for a moment, the wonder and surprise and happiness
are too great. Now Mrs. Burton likes my play I shall be willing to
consign it to the flames from whence it received its name."
"Foolish boy, do you suppose I believe you? I ought not to tell you
this, because I was not given the right, although no one said I must not
speak of it. Mrs. Burton wants to play 'The Red Flower' next winter, if
her manager thinks the play half so fine as she thinks it. She is to
telegraph him in the morning to come to the island and give her his
opinion. If they agree she wants to remain here on the island in one of
the small fishermen's cottages, which can be done over, and study and
work for a part of the summer. There will probably be changes that must
be made, so she wants you to spend a part of the time here if it is
possible for you."
There was no reply, save that leaning over, Allan lifted the anchor.
Then taking both oars he pulled rapidly out into the centre of the blue
lagoon and onward toward the bay.
"Don't be frightened, Gill, I'll not get into a difficulty to-night.
This is the greatest moment of my life and I cannot sit still and accept
it calmly. I want to feel myself a part of all this, of the water and
the sky and of creation itself. Don't laugh at me and don't trouble to
understand, only thank you and know that I would rather you had shared
this moment with me than any one else. We are friends now, Gill, for
all time, whatever may seem to separate us in the future, we must both
recall this hour and the beauty and peace of the Blue Lagoon!"
* * * * * * * *
*BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK*
*THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES*
The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge
The Ranch Girls' Pot of Gold
The Ranch Girls at Boarding School
The Ranch Girls in Europe
The Ranch Girls at Home Again
The Ranch Girls and their Great Adventure
The Ranch Girls and their Heart's Desire
The Ranch Girls and the Silver Arrow
The Ranch Girls and the Mystery of the Three Roads
*STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS*
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
The Camp Fire Girls on the Edge of the Desert
The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail
The Camp Fire Girls Behind the Lines
The Camp Fire Girls on the Field of Honor
The Camp Fire Girls in Glorious France
The Camp Fire Girls in Merrie England
The Camp Fire Girls at Half Moon Lake
The Camp Fire Girls by the Blue Lagoon
*THE GIRL SCOUTS SERIES*
The Girl Scouts of the Eagle's Wing
The Girl Scouts in Beechwood Forest
The Girl Scouts of the Round Table
The Girl Scouts in Mystery Valley
The Girl Scouts and the Open Road