It was a new East to Cathalina and the other girls. There had been many
a long stop on the way, for the troop trains had precedence. Everywhere
was the uniform, and in the Hudson were strangely camouflaged ships.
Cathalina and Lilian had telegraphed about their changed date of arrival
and were met by the fathers this time. No dashing Philip, blue-eyed
Campbell or brotherly Dick at the station. But the first question asked
by Cathalina and Lilian of their respective parents was “Have the boys
come yet?”
“We do not know,” answered Mr. Van Buskirk. “If so, they are detained at
camp. They promised to send us word at the first opportunity, but they
might not have that for a time.”
Hilary managed to hobble around pretty well and reached the Van Buskirk
car without much difficulty. Aunt Hilary and Cathalina followed Hilary
into the machine and they started off, after saying goodbye to Lilian
and her father.
“Not much need of goodbyes, is there, daughter?” inquired the Judge. “I
suppose you will be over there most of the time till the boys sail.”
“I may be at home a little, a very little, Daddy, so make the most of
me!”
“Very well, but even you will have to take second place when Dick
arrives. Your mother lives in anticipation.”
“Poor mother! Is Dick still in camp?”
“He was shifted to another camp, but telegraphed, a night letter, saying
that the indications were for a start in a day or two and that he would
let us know. He will come to Camp Merritt also.”
Aunt Hilary received a warm welcome from Mrs. Van Buskirk, while Hilary
was petted and waited on until she said she would be spoiled and never
would want to wait on herself again. The big Van Buskirk house was cool
and comfortable, electric fans going, flowers about the rooms, cold
salads and ices served. It was perhaps as well that the soldier lads had
not arrived, for the girls were so tired that they did not need any
extra excitement. Mrs. Van Buskirk suggested that both Cathalina and
Hilary should spend most of the time in bed for the next day or two and
sent for some one to give special treatment to the rapidly improving
foot. None of the relatives were invited in, no reunions planned, until
Philip and Campbell should arrive. Lilian, however, called up
occasionally. She, too, had been put to bed to rest, but felt anxious to
know about Hilary’s progress.
“I feel it in my bones,” said she, talking over the telephone to
Cathalina, “that the boys are not far away. We got the telegram Tuesday,
you know, and your people had just heard, and then the boys had started.
I don’t see how it _could_ take more than three or four days. Do you
suppose they can be at camp?”
“They might be, but Mother is expecting Phil either tomorrow or Sunday.
She has given orders for all the good things that Philip likes to eat,
and such spreads as we’ll have for the next few days!”
“Here, too. Well, I suppose it takes a long time to move so many troops
and we must be patient.”
“Yes, but you come over tomorrow and stay all day and the next. If you
are here we shall have Phil in the house just that much more! Mother
told me to ask you to come.”
“All right, Cathalina, I’ll be over in the morning.”
“Better bring all the clothes you want, for Phil will not want you out
of his sight.”
“Oh, he could drive me home.”
“Yes, and then _we_ wouldn’t have him.”
“I see. By the way, little sister, have you any overseas news since you
came home?”
“Not a word. And Captain Van Horne’s unit is right in the thickest of
the battles.”
Lilian joined the Van Buskirk “unit” the next day, spending much of the
time up in the rose room where Hilary sat with her foot up, doing her
best to take care now in order to be around with the rest soon. Mrs. Van
Buskirk and Aunt Hilary came and went, all the ladies knitting
vigorously.
“I must try to match this yarn,” Hilary was saying. “Isn’t it funny that
there are different shades of khaki. I thought I had enough to finish
the sweater, but haven’t. I do hope that I can match it exactly.”
“Listen!” said Cathalina.
Lilian jumped to her feet. Cathalina reached for her and drew her out
into the hall. Hilary looked at Aunt Hilary and dropped her work,
wondering if Campbell could possibly come with Philip, whose voice they
now heard downstairs. Yes, who was that asking, “Is it all right to go
up now, Aunt Sylvia?” The answer must have been affirmative, for rapid
steps were coming up the stairs, and Hilary limped out of the room so
quickly that she met him at the top.
There was no question of being engaged or not engaged. Campbell had just
heard of Hilary’s accident and gathered her up, fairly carrying her to
the end of the hall where there was a convenient window-seat.
“Hilary, Hilary, were you badly hurt?”
“No, Campbell,—but how tired you look!”
It took only a few happy minutes for all explanations and expressions
that were necessary for a complete understanding.
“I did not mean, Hilary, to tell you this until I came back,—but I
couldn’t help it.”
“I’d rather it were this way, Campbell. If you know that I care for you,
you will write more freely and it will seem so different.”
“What a heavenly difference!”
Mrs. Van Buskirk ascended the stairs and stood at the top without the
lovers’ being aware of her presence, and Mrs. Garland came from the rose
room to join her. “There is another pair downstairs,” remarked Mrs. Van
Buskirk with an expression of amusement. “But our lads will go more
happily for having their sweethearts waiting for them. I thought that
Campbell and Hilary were going to be so sensible and wait.” Mrs. Van
Buskirk raised her voice purposely as she said this, though she and Aunt
Hilary had their backs turned to the window-seat.
“What was that, Aunt Sylvia?” Campbell had risen, and now was walking
slowly toward them, helping Hilary.
“Come and meet Mrs. Garland, Campbell. Mrs. Garland, this is my nephew
and Hilary’s friend.” Trust Mrs. Van Buskirk not to take for granted any
new relation.
“It’s my Aunt Hilary, Campbell,” said Hilary as her aunt cordially
greeted the young man.
“I came up to tell you all that lunch will be ready before long. You
will stay, will you not, Campbell? Have you seen your mother yet?”
“No, I haven’t been out home. This was on the way, and I couldn’t resist
stopping to see if the girls had come.” Campbell looked down at Hilary
with content.
“Why not telephone her that you are in the city and will be right out
after lunch. Phil will drive you out. Perhaps Hilary will feel like
going too.”
“No, Mrs. Van Buskirk, I think not. His mother will want him all to
herself for a little while at least.”
“It is very thoughtful of you, Hilary, to appreciate that. You might
ride out, though, and come back with Phil and Lilian.”
“That is a great plan, Aunt Sylvia. You have a heart!” exclaimed
Campbell.
Mrs. Van Buskirk laughed. “I haven’t wholly forgotten my own youth,” she
replied, as she started down the stairs again, Aunt Hilary accompanying
her.
Campbell said something in a low tone to Hilary, who laughed. “Aunt
Hilary,” said she, “Campbell wants to know if he may carry me down.”
“It will be the very simplest way of getting her down,” assented that
lady. “She has been having her meals carried to her, but will want to be
with the family now.”
“If I want a permanent job as porter, then,” began Campbell, but Hilary
told him not to be silly, and he promptly obeyed, lifting Hilary and
carrying her down quickly, when the coast was clear of descending
ladies.
“She has begun to boss me already,” said Campbell as he helped Hilary
into the library where were Lilian and Philip.
“Oh, Campbell, as if I would do that!” began Hilary.
“What, what, what?” exclaimed Philip, jumping up to come and shake hands
with Hilary. “You don’t mean to say that everything is fixed up and——”
“It is,” said Campbell. “Congratulate me. Hilary says that she’ll have
me, though I’m terribly afraid that it is the uniform that she likes.”
“Irrepressible,” said Hilary to Lilian.
“Yes, but isn’t it wonderful to have them here for a little while?”
“It makes me feel a little better, Campbell,” said Philip, seriously.
“You were so noble and self-sacrificing that I felt horribly selfish to
have asked Lilian.”
The boys looked older and were thin after their strenuous months in a
southern camp. There was a firmness to young mouths in those days and a
lift to the chin, for boys had become men in the training and under the
new responsibility, as they met the evils wrought by the wrong ambitions
of wicked men.
“How did it happen to take you so long to come, Philip?” asked Mrs. Van
Buskirk at lunch.
“They brought us by such a round-about way, Mother. It was not by any
means a direct route.”
“How long can you stay this time?” asked Cathalina.
“We are off for over Sunday, but I don’t think that our bunch will go
over for a week or ten days. You must all come out to see the camp. Have
any of you been over?”
“Your father and I have been there several times in connection with the
work for the boys,” replied Mrs. Van Buskirk. “We shall go when you
can’t come to us, but this is better when you can.”
“I should say so!” assented Philip, accepting further attentions from
old Watts, who could not keep his usual impassive countenance under the
circumstances. Louis had come with Philip and had been warmly greeted by
both the family and the servants. He was in Philip’s company, but the
relation was not of master and man.
After lunch Philip drove Lilian, Campbell and Hilary to the Stuarts, but
Hilary did not return with Lilian and Philip, for Mrs. Stuart insisted
upon her staying and promised to take Campbell off by himself for a talk
if she would stay. And the family all made much of Hilary. It had been
well known among them how long Campbell had admired her.
“He has been so uneasy at times, Hilary,” said Mrs. Stuart, in a little
private conference, “and I had wondered how it was,—if you could not
care for my boy.”
“It was only too easy to do that, Mrs. Stuart, but I could scarcely
offer myself to him, could I?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“You see you can’t be perfectly sure that a boy cares for you very very
much until he tells you so. And I think that Campbell was surprised into
it as it was! Perhaps I should have said ‘No’!”
Hilary felt well acquainted with them all because of her previous visits
among the relatives, and Sara, who was a tall slip of a girl in her
teens now, quite openly adored her. Hilary told Sara and Emily all about
her sinking heart when she thought that she would not be able to come.
“Oh, suppose you hadn’t!” exclaimed Sara. “Then you and Campbell
wouldn’t be engaged, and you couldn’t have seen him before he left.”
“That was it, Sara. I really did not expect to be engaged to him, but I
thought I must see him, after having expected to all these months.”
“But now you belong to us,” declared Sara emphatically. “Aunt Hilary
must come to see us, too.”
“Yes,” said Emily. “I imagine that we’ll all go over there to see Phil
and call on Mrs. Garland after dinner. I told Phil that he need not come
for you, that we should want a visit with him, too, and would probably
be over. Aunt Sylvia will want a quiet day with him tomorrow, I think.”
It turned out so. Cathalina telephoned around to the different relatives
and to Judge and Mrs. North, asking them to call after dinner. Philip,
however, had driven Lilian home, after delivering Hilary at the Stuarts,
and was warmly welcomed by the Judge and his wife.
“Dick is at camp,” announced Philip, “and will get off in the morning.”
“I will go home with you tonight, Mother,” said Lilian, “and help you
get dinner for Dick tomorrow morning. I want you to have a chance to
visit with him while he can be here.”
“I shall have dinner nearly prepared tonight, Lilian, and there will be
little to do tomorrow, but you are a good child and I will let you
finish it up. Can’t you come over and help her, Philip?”
“If I only could! But Mother would be disappointed if I were not at
home. I’ll come over for Lilian right after dinner if you don’t mind.”
It took a great deal of planning for every one to see the soldier lads,
but the time was precious for memories. At Camp Merritt, Philip pointed
out a little hut where food was sold to the soldiers.
“See that sign?” he asked. “‘No Pies.’ That never comes down, because
the boys know when the pies come in, and go at once to buy them out!”
At the little station in Dumont, out from which town the camp was
located, troop trains were being unloaded. Processions of worn, dusty
men were marching away toward the camp and were carrying immense packs
that looked heavy for any one not a giant. The girls watched them and
the great loaded trucks that sped away to take all kinds of supplies to
Camp Merritt. “I grow more and more indignant,” said Hilary. “All this
hardship and risk and worse, and what for?—Just because it happens to be
our job to help defeat some murderers. But it has to be done.”
Those were sober days, and when several days later it was evidently
their last visit to the boys in camp it was hard to say the farewells.
Not far from where Philip and Lilian stood talking, sat a young soldier
and his wife, the latter a frail little woman with a patient, sad look
upon her face. They were not saying a word, only sat with clasped hands
till such time as he would have to go back to quarters. But Philip and
Lilian said goodbye with a brave smile, each to the other, and Lilian
stood watching Philip till he had disappeared within the barracks.