CHAPTER XII

THE PROMISE

“You haven’t any right to pry into my affairs, and I shan’t tell you a

thing.” Secure in the knowledge that only Ruth had seen her in the

automobile, Blanche’s dismay changed to defiance. “Whatever I choose to

do is no concern of yours. Kindly mind your own business.”

“This happens to be my business.” Ruth was not to be shaken in her

purpose. “You were to be _my_ guest in the first place. When we changed

our plans, I included you in them. I was warned that you had an axe to

grind. I didn’t believe it. But that doesn’t matter now. What does

matter is that while you are Miss Drexal’s guest, you shan’t do again as

you did to-day. If you expect to go automobiling with a young man, then

you must do so openly, and with Miss Drexal’s consent.”

“I want you to distinctly understand that I am engaged to that young

man. I have a perfect right to accept his attentions, if I choose.”

Defense of her conduct wrung this admission from Blanche’s unwilling

lips.

“Not in the way you did to-day,” maintained Ruth. “What do you suppose

Miss Drexal would say if she knew this? She is not merely our hostess,

she is our guardian. She feels responsible for all of us. If, as you

say, he is your fiancé, then you should have announced your engagement

to her, and asked her if he might call on you openly.”

“You don’t understand things at all,” retorted Blanche hotly.

“But I intend to before I leave this room!” Ruth steadily assured. “You

will have to do one of two things, Blanche. Either you must explain the

whole affair to me, or else go to Miss Drexal and tell her.”

Blanche gasped angrily, but offered no reply. She glowered at Ruth for

an instant, then dropped her eyes. “If I did tell you, you’d go and tell

her anyway,” she muttered.

“Perhaps I wouldn’t. I’d rather not if we can settle things between

ourselves. That’s why I’m asking you to be frank with me.”

Something in the earnest words awoke Blanche to the fact that Ruth

really did wish to help her, rather than expose her folly. “I suppose

I’d better tell you,” she said sulkily. “My mother doesn’t know I’m

engaged, and I don’t want her to. She forbade me even to be friends with

Donald. She doesn’t allow him to call on me. That’s why I was anxious to

get away from home this summer. I thought if I went to visit you, he

could come to see me there and pretend to be my cousin. Then Miss Drexal

changed things all around and upset our plans. So he came up here, and

is staying in Lakeview.

“I thought I could see him once in a while and no one would know it. No

one would have, either, if that old storm hadn’t come up. I was going to

walk home from the place where I met him this morning. It’s about a mile

from here. We drove to Lakeview and had luncheon there at a hotel. We

left the machine there and walked all around the town. While we were

driving back, the sky began to get dark. He was afraid I’d get caught in

the storm, so he brought me almost home. I never thought you girls would

come back that way,” she ended in an aggrieved tone.

Ruth’s feelings, as she listened to this tale, were decidedly varied. So

this was the fabled axe that she had willingly turned the grindstone to

sharpen. She had often heard Emmy privately refer to Blanche as

“boy-struck.” It was also generally known among the Hillside girls that

Blanche preferred the reading of sentimental fiction to study. It now

appeared as though she had introduced Romance into her own life with a

vengeance. For a long moment Ruth silently regarded the pouting features

of the narrator.

“It seems to me,” she said slowly, “that it was a good thing we did come

back that way. I am glad that none of the others saw you, though. You

haven’t been fair with me, Blanche, but I’m going to give you a chance

to be fair now. I want you to promise me that you will write to this

young man to-night, telling him that you cannot see him again while you

are here at the cottage.”

“But I can’t do that!” was the protesting cry. “He’d think me—”

“It’s not so much what _he_ may think as what others will surely think

of your deception,” broke in Ruth a trifle sharply. “In the first place,

you have disobeyed your mother. Then, too, you owe it to Miss Drexal to

write that letter. If you will write it, then I will agree to say

nothing of this to anyone, provided you keep your word. You must see for

yourself that you can’t go on meeting this young man outside the Heights

without being found out by someone else in the cottage. Anyway, I

wouldn’t allow you to do it. It wouldn’t be fair to you, or your mother,

or Miss Drexal. After you leave here to go to your own home, you are

free to do as you choose, so far as Miss Drexal is concerned. But not

until then. Why don’t you turn around and try to be a Camp Fire Girl in

earnest, Blanche? You are too young to be thinking so much about love

and all that nonsense,” Ruth entreated with sudden energy. “You’re just

a schoolgirl like the rest of us.”

Blanche continued to scowl, but said nothing. She was not in the mood

for advice. She was trying to decide which would be the lesser of two

evils. Much as she disliked the idea of writing the letter Ruth

demanded, she stood in far greater awe of Miss Drexal’s sure

disapproval, should the registrar learn what Ruth had accidentally

stumbled upon. She was also forced to admit to herself that Ruth’s logic

was sound.

“If I promise not to see Donald again while I’m up here, will you

promise not to write to my mother?” she sullenly compromised, as she

glanced at Ruth’s set features.

“I hadn’t intended that. I think you ought to be the one to tell her,

but not now. Wait until you go home from the reunion, then go to her

frankly. If she still objects to your fiancé, it is your duty to break

your engagement. Undoubtedly she knows what is wisest for you. If you

wrote her about it now, it would upset her dreadfully. She would be

likely to send for you to come home. I’d rather you’d stay and be one of

us, share our good times, and win a lot of Camp Fire honors.”

Ruth had a shrewd idea that once cut off from association with the youth

Blanche claimed engagement to, her interest in him would soon wane. She

guessed that the engagement was a sentimental schoolgirl and boy affair,

which had risen out of pure defiance of Mrs. Shirly’s wishes. Blanche

was far too selfish to be in love with anyone except Blanche. Then and

there Ruth resolved that before they left the Heights, she would somehow

win Blanche over to be as she had advocated, “a Camp Fire Girl in

earnest.”

“I’ll write to Donald to-night.” The promise came most reluctantly.

“I’m glad of that.” Ruth breathed a little relieved sigh. “Let’s shake

hands and forget the disagreeable part.” Although quite aware that the

promise had been unwillingly given, and the reference to Mrs. Shirly and

the Camp Fire baldly ignored, she thought it best to make no further

allusion to either. She would bide her time.

Very half-heartedly, Blanche laid a limp hand in Ruth’s. “Remember,

you’ve promised not to tell,” she muttered.

“I shall keep my word,” Ruth gravely assured. She refrained from adding

that she hoped Blanche would also stick to her agreement. She was fairly

sure of it, however. She knew that Blanche stood in wholesome fear of

exposure. “I must go,” she said, turning abruptly toward the door. She

was sincerely glad to conclude the unpleasant interview.

Mutely, Blanche watched the door close on her accuser. Though she would

not have admitted it to Ruth, she was not entirely sorry at the way

things had turned out. Ever selfish of her own comfort, the day’s

deception had entailed altogether too much trouble and worry to suit

her. During her frantic dash for shelter, she had half resolved not to

repeat it. Had the stubborn stand she had at first taken with Ruth been

wholly genuine, she would not have yielded so tamely. Nevertheless, she

was furious with Ruth for having interfered in her personal affairs. “I

suppose she thinks she’s done something wonderful,” was her scornful

comment as she seated herself before her mirror and moodily viewed her

reflection. “She’s a snippy little goody-goody. A Camp Fire Girl in

earnest!” she mimicked. “She’ll wait a long time for that to happen!”

The Camp Fire Girls at Driftwood Heights · 第 12 / 22 章