The Dinner Party
Tonight, as the group of Camp Fire girls were seated at dinner, their
appearance afforded a striking contrast to the ordinary simplicity of
their lives within the past few years which they had spent together.
The long oval dinner table held a basket of white roses in the center.
Above the roses and attached to the crystal chandelier was a white dove.
On the table were white candles and two silken flags, the United States
flag and the French, which lay one beside the other across the white
cloth.
Seated at the head of the table and presiding over her peace dinner was
Miss Patricia Lord, but a Miss Patricia whom no one of the Camp Fire
girls had ever beheld before tonight.
Vanished was her usually shabby and old-fashioned attire! In its place
for this occasion she wore a gown of black satin and lace of unusual
elegance. Indeed, through the art of her French dressmaker even Miss
Patricia’s ordinary ungainliness had been metamorphosed into a unique
distinction. Never lacking dignity even in the shabbiest attire through
sheer force of personality, tonight she was almost handsome as well.
Her hair had been arranged by a hair dresser, so that the soft waves over
her forehead gave her a less severe expression, a slight color due to the
excitement of her dinner party and her gratification over Mrs. Burton’s
and the Camp Fire girls’ appearance, made her cheeks glow with something
approaching the past radiance of youth.
Moreover, Miss Patricia was finding herself agreeably entertained by the
guest who sat upon her right.
Mr. David Hale was probably not aware of what extent the dinner, with its
suggestion of a peace table, had been hurriedly arranged in order to
impress him. But if Miss Patricia had desired to make an impression, she
had accomplished the result she wished to achieve.
As he talked to Miss Patricia, whom he discovered to be an extremely well
informed woman as well as a decidedly original character, he was at the
same time able to observe with a good deal of pleasure the group of
charming girls by whom he was surrounded.
Any other hostess than Miss Patricia Lord, under similar circumstances,
would have seen that Bettina Graham was placed beside her new
acquaintance, who had been so kind after their unexpected meeting. But
any one, who has learned to know Miss Patricia, by this time must have
appreciated that her tactics were not always those of other people.
Bettina did not sit next Mr. Hale but almost directly across from him.
Yvonne Fleury was placed on his other side. As Yvonne was French and the
young man an American, they might be supposed to be interested in making
each other’s acquaintance. So far as Bettina was concerned Miss Patricia
had a definite purpose in her dinner arrangement. Mr. Hale was not to
imagine that his passing acquaintance with Bettina, or his opportunity to
render her a personal service, was necessarily to lead to further
intimacy.
In Miss Patricia’s eyes Bettina had appeared, before a stranger, in an
extremely unfortunate and undignified position. She must therefore be
restored to proper dignity both by her own behavior and the attitude of
her friends.
In the adventure between Sally Ashton and Lieutenant Fleury,[2] Miss
Patricia had been actuated by this same motive, although she had
expressed it so differently.
Tonight, in spite of her critical attitude, Miss Patricia was fairly well
satisfied with Bettina Graham’s demeanor. Whatever Bettina’s impression
of herself as lacking in social grace, she had been witness for many
years to the charm of her mother’s manner, to her gift for knowing and
saying just what the occasion demanded and must have learned of her.
In her greeting of Mr. Hale on his arrival earlier in the evening,
Bettina had displayed just the proper degree of appreciation of his
kindness, neither too much or too little. Immediately after she had
effaced herself in order that he might devote his attention to her Camp
Fire guardian and Miss Patricia.
If the young American had become interested in Bettina through their
romantic encounter, Miss Patricia had decided that he could be allowed
the privilege of looking at her, or even of addressing a remark to her
across the table, but for the present this was sufficient.
If her own judgment counted for anything, Bettina was well worth
observation on this particular occasion.
Notwithstanding her leniency in regard to Bettina’s previous costume,
Bettina had answered her unspoken wish and was now wearing her prettiest
evening gown. The dress was made of white chiffon with bands of silver
embroidery over the shoulders and around the waist. She also wore a
little fine string of pearls, a gift from her father several years
before.
Bettina’s fair hair was bound closely about her head in two heavy braids;
it was a characteristic of her’s that she was always at her best in
evening clothes, partly because her head was so beautifully set on her
long, slender neck.
She was next Ralph Marshall and on his other side was Peggy Webster.
Peggy wore a rose-colored gown and with her dark hair and eyes and
brilliant color formed a striking contrast to Bettina’s fairness.
How utterly different had been the circumstances of the lives of this
particular group of Camp Fire girls before their association with one
another! And yet in their own way each girl appeared tonight at almost
equal advantage!
Vera Lagerloff was the daughter of Russian peasants who had emigrated to
the United States and were at present small farmers upon a portion of
Peggy Webster’s father’s large estate.
Vera was perhaps not beautiful in the opinion of most persons, but was
singularly interesting, with her long Slavic eyes of a curious grayish
green shade, her heavy hair, and her expression of dignity and
intelligence.
Moreover, she also had been transformed into greater beauty through the
art of Miss Patricia’s newly discovered French dressmaker.
Vera’s dress was of an unusual shade of green, a little like the color of
her eyes, a shade few persons could have worn, but peculiarly suited to
her. Following simple, almost severely plain lines, the dress was trimmed
with an odd piece of old Russian embroidery, of bronze and green and blue
threads.
Alice and Sally Ashton were both in white; as Alice had reddish hair and
the complexion which usually accompanies it, white was always more
becoming to her than anything else. But tonight Sally looked too thin and
white herself to have worn so colorless a costume. One can scarcely
imagine how Sally had altered in the past months; her soft rounded
outlines had disappeared and she was now almost painfully thin. There
were hollows under her brown eyes, which had lost their childish
expression, and hollows in her cheeks, where the dimples which she had so
resented had formerly been.
Mary Gilchrist wore a blue dress made as simply as possible, which
emphasized the almost boyish grace of her figure. Her hair, with its
bright red lights, was piled in a loose mass on top of her head, her
cheeks were glowing.
In spite of the change in the conditions of their present Camp Fire life,
Mary Gilchrist had not given up her outdoor existence. A portion of
nearly every day she devoted to driving wounded, convalescent soldiers
about in her motor car in order that they should enjoy the air and
entertainment.
Yvonne Fleury wore a violet crepe as she had promised her Camp Fire
guardian not to wear mourning, but did not wish to appear in any more
brilliant color.
There was only one sombre note tonight at Miss Patricia’s table; a young
girl, a stranger, who sat near Mrs. Burton, was in black. The dress she
was wearing, although of an inexpensive material, was light in texture
and not unattractive. Nevertheless, its wearer seemed to feel both shy
and uncomfortable. She must have been about nineteen or twenty, older
than the Camp Fire girls.
Some weeks before, having introduced the young French dressmaker,
Marguerite Arnot, into her family, Miss Patricia had since insisted that
she become an actual member of it. In spite of her work she was expected
to appear with the family at the table and to share in so far as possible
in the ordinary daily life of the other girls. Tonight vainly had she
pleaded to be spared the ordeal of a fashionable dinner, only to find
Miss Patricia adamant.
Mrs. Burton was placed beside a former acquaintance, whose appearance as
one of the guests at Miss Patricia’s hastily arranged dinner, had caused
her a moment’s surprise. No suggestion had Miss Patricia made to her,
that she intended inviting Senator Georges Duval, for whom she had always
expressed a decided antagonism.
But after a little consideration of the matter, Mrs. Burton understood
Miss Patricia Lord’s sudden change of front.
During the months of their work in one of the devastated districts of
France, Miss Patricia had at least appeared to dislike her friendship
with the distinguished Frenchman. However, since their arrival in Paris
and now at Versailles, there might be a number of ways in which a French
senator might be of service to the Camp Fire girls. Bettina’s recent
adventure particularly emphasized the fact that his friendship might
prove useful. And Miss Patricia was not in the least averse to using
persons for the sake of her friends, provided that she did them no harm.
Her invitation tonight to Senator Duval to meet the young American named
David Hale, had a well thought out purpose behind it.
Should Bettina become involved in suspicion and gossip due to her last
night’s experience, they would both have learned to know Bettina’s
position. They would also understand how entirely accidental her entrance
into the secret garden had been and how impossible to leave after the
small gate had closed behind her.
Certainly the French authorities must accept so simple an explanation.
Mrs. Burton also felt a little amused by Miss Patricia’s now transparent
reason for desiring her to be more elaborately dressed for dinner than
she had originally intended.
As a matter of fact on retiring to her room she had hesitated before
putting on the exquisite costume which Aunt Patricia had evidently just
purchased for her from one of the best known designers of women’s clothes
in Paris. The ungraciousness with which she had been ordered to her room
and told to dress a second time was also explained. For years, ever since
Miss Patricia’s inheritance from her brother of her large fortune, both
Mrs. Burton and her husband, Captain Burton, had been protesting against
the extravagant gifts which Miss Patricia frequently insisted upon
bestowing upon them, and especially upon Mrs. Burton, who was the one
person for whom she cared most in the world.
Whatever Miss Patricia’s economies and conscientious scruples with regard
to spending money upon herself, she had no such scruples in connection
with Mrs. Burton.
Therefore risking the possibility both of wounding and offending Miss
Patricia, Mrs. Burton had positively declined allowing her to bestow upon
her any gifts of value.
An ordinary evening frock, Miss Patricia would of course declare
possessed no value. Yet Mrs. Burton had appreciated that the dress she
was at this moment wearing at dinner was not of this character.
She had felt she should refuse to accept it, but she had not wished to
hurt Miss Patricia and also she had not wished to relinquish the dress
once she had tried it on.
It looked simple, yet Mrs. Burton had a sufficient knowledge and
appreciation of clothes to recognize the exceptional beauty of her
present gift.
As she sat talking and laughing with Senator Duval, Miss Patricia
surveyed both Mrs. Burton and her own purchase with entire satisfaction.
The dress looked as if it had been designed solely for Mrs. Burton and
could have been successfully worn by no one else.
Once Miss Patricia nodded with a peculiar satisfaction which, had her
action been observed, no one would have understood.
As a matter of fact she was thinking that there were persons who insisted
that Polly Burton, the well known actress, was in no sense a beautiful
woman and that her success was due entirely to her magnetism.
Miss Patricia was wishing that these same critical persons might have
beheld Mrs. Burton tonight.
The new evening frock was an unexpected combination of yellow and bronze
chiffons and so skilfully were the delicate materials arranged that there
was never a decided contrast. The two colors seemed to melt into each
other as if they had been a combination from an artist’s brush.
The dress might have obscured another woman’s personality, making the
woman appear of less interest than her costume, but this was not true of
Mrs. Burton.
Every now and then one of the Camp Fire girls would glance toward Mrs.
Burton with a fresh appreciation of her charm. Until tonight they had not
seen her in this particular setting of richness and elegance.
During the years of their outdoor Camp Fire life together, Mrs. Burton
had lived almost as simply and plainly as her Camp Fire girls.
Yet it was an interesting experience for all of them, this brief change
into sumptuousness which Miss Patricia’s generosity was affording. Mrs.
Burton revealed her own enjoyment of it.
At present her blue eyes were glowing with enthusiasm, as she sat talking
with interest to her present dinner companion.
“I wonder if the French people will ever realize how glorious we feel
France has been in the past four years to have endured so patiently and
so courageously all the long strain of the war fought upon her soil.
Remember that in the old days one always spoke of France as ‘La Belle
France.’ Now I think she has earned the new title of ‘Glorious France.’”
But at this moment Mrs. Burton and Senator Duval were no longer able to
continue their conversation, since at a signal from Miss Patricia, her
guests were about to leave the table.