SUNRISE CABIN
Betty was not with any one of their acquaintances, for Polly telephoned
everybody they knew before leaving the Ashton house.
Then a possibility suddenly dawning upon her, she hurried forth,
feeling that anything was better than remaining longer indoors.
All of the Sunrise Hill Camp Fire girls were in the habit of taking
frequent walks to their forsaken log cabin. And as Betty wished to be
alone and especially needed the strength and consolation that its happy
memories could give her, probably she had gone out there. Under most
circumstances Polly would have respected her friend's desire for
solitude, but Betty must already have been at the cabin for some time
by herself and the dusk would soon come down upon her and she would be
hurt and lonely, with all her familiar world fallen about her feet.
No one else must learn of her pilgrimage, since Betty might forgive her
presence and yet could not rally to meet the astonishment and sympathy
of any other of her friends. So Polly told several impatient fibs to
the persons who insisted upon learning where she intended going, before
she was able to get outside of Woodford and into the blessed solitude
of the country lanes.
The air was colder by this time and light flurries of snow kept
blinding her eyes as she hurried along. However, she had not so
forgotten her training in woodcraft as not to recognize signs of
Betty's having preceded her along almost the same route; for here and
there, where the earth had thawed in the midday warmth, there were
impressions of the Princess' shoes. And she even picked up a small
crushed handkerchief which had been dropped by the way.
Therefore in spite of her depression over Mrs. Ashton's information,
Polly was beginning to get a kind of hold upon herself. For it was her
place, if she possibly could manage it, to persuade Betty that, after
all, life was not so utterly changed by yesterday's discovery. If Mrs.
Ashton and Dick were not her own mother and brother, they themselves
knew no difference. And there would be no change in her friends'
affections. Then, she had gained Esther as a sister, Esther who was so
big in her nature, so unselfish and fine. No wonder she had always
seemed to care for Betty with a devotion no one of them could explain.
And how hard it must have been loving her as she did to have made no
claim upon her.
"Hello, Miss Polly," an unexpected voice cried out, and to Polly's
utter vexation she beheld Billy Webster coming toward her from the path
that led through his father's woods.
She bowed coldly, hoping that her coldness might be her salvation,
since she did not wish to waste time in conversation with him, nor to
explain why she was in such a hurry to go on with her walk. But Billy
was apparently not influenced by Polly's present attitude, being too
accustomed to her moods.
"May I walk along with you?" he inquired politely enough. "I was just
out for exercise, with no special place in mind where I wished to go,
and I should ever so much rather have you as a companion."
It was on the tip of Polly's tongue to exclaim, "But I would so much
rather not have you!" However, she suddenly recalled having promised
Mollie to be as polite to Billy as she could and not to bear malice any
longer. So she merely shook her head. "I am sorry, but I am in a
great hurry," she explained. "For you see I came out with a very
special place in mind to which I wish to go immediately."
Billy laughed, rather a big, splendid, open-hearted laugh. Polly was
amusing, in no matter what temper she might happen to be.
"But I won't interfere with your destination and I certainly can manage
to walk as fast as you can," he announced calmly, keeping close to the
girl's side, although her rapid walking had developed almost into a
run, and she was nearly out of breath.
[Illustration: "I won't interfere with your destination"]
Well, if she could not outwalk him and could not manage to get rid of
him in any other way, Polly decided that she would at least keep
perfectly silent until he had the sense to go away of his own accord.
It was still some distance before she could reach the cabin.
However, as Billy was doing a great deal of talking, he appeared not to
be aware of her unusual silence.
"Look here, Miss Polly, I have been thinking of something for a long
time--several months, in fact," he declared. "And I have about come to
the conclusion that maybe I was pretty domineering in the way in which
I behaved to you in New York. Of course I still consider that acting
business a dreadful thing for you to have done which might have brought
consequences that you could not imagine. But I ought to have tried to
persuade you to stop or to write your mother, and not to have bullied
you. I want you to believe, though, that it was because I like you so
much that I went all to pieces over the idea of anything happening to
you--your getting ill or somebody being rude to you. Great Scott! but
I am glad that you have given up that foolish idea of going upon the
stage and have settled down quietly in Woodford!"
Polly turned a pair of astonished blue eyes upon her companion, who
happened at the moment to be gazing up toward the sky where the snow
clouds were growing heavier.
"You are very kind to be interested in my welfare, I am sure," she
replied, trying her best not to let sarcastic tones creep into her
voice. "And of course I realized that your friendship for Mollie and
mother made you feel that you had the right to express your opinion
very frankly to me. But you are mistaken if you believe that I have
given up my foolish notion of going upon the stage. Of course I
appreciate now that I was wrong in betraying mother's trust and in
trying that experiment in acting without her consent. So I have
accepted my punishment and made my bargain. But just the same, when I
am twenty-one, I mean to try again with all my strength and power and
to keep on trying until I ultimately succeed."
Billy Webster closed his lips with a look of peculiar obstinacy.
"Three years is a long time," he answered, "and you might as well know
that though I am fond of Mollie and always will be, it is you I really
care about. Oh yes, I realize that there are hours when I almost hate
you, but that is because you dislike me and because I can't get you to
do what I wish. Still, you might as well understand that I intend
doing everything in my power for the next three years to make you stay
in Woodford when the time is up and to make you stay because you love
me."
And then before Polly was able to get her breath or to stamp her foot
or in any possible way to relieve her feelings, the young man had
marched away through an opening at one side of the path, without even
stopping once to glance back at her.
It was out of the question then for Polly to decide whether she was the
more angry, astonished or amused. Of course it was absurd for Billy
Webster to conceive of having any emotion for her except one of
disapproval. He was simply so obstinate and so sure of himself that he
wanted to make her like him, because he knew that she almost hated him.
And if it had not been for Mollie, she would have suffered no "almost"
in her dislike.
Really the confusion and protest that the young man's words had
awakened in her mind, coming on top of the disclosure about Betty, made
Polly feel as if she had suddenly taken leave of her senses. And as it
is a rather good scheme when one is unable to think clearly, to give up
thinking at all for the time being, the girl started running in the
direction of the cabin, so fast that she had opportunity for no other
impulse or impression except forcing herself to keep up the desired
speed.
By a camp fire, which Betty had built for herself, Polly discovered her
friend sitting on a stool with her elbow in her lap and her head
resting on her hand. She did not seem astonished or annoyed by her
friend's entrance. When Polly came forward and kissed her she merely
said, "I am glad you know, Polly. I hope you did not have a very cold
walk. It was not snowing when I came out." Then she began piling more
logs on her fire.
Later the two girls had an intimate talk.
"It is odd, Polly, but I don't feel as wretched as I should have
expected I would," Betty explained, speaking as much to herself as to
her companion. "I think perhaps it is intended for me to have my
illusions shattered earlier in life than other people have them--I
think possibly because I have been vainer and more foolish. At first I
presume I used to have a kind of unconscious satisfaction in our having
more money than other people and in being able to do almost anything
for my friends that I wished. Then when the money went away I thought,
well, perhaps money does not make so much difference if one has an old
family and a name of which one may be proud. But in these last few
hours, sitting here by myself I have begun to appreciate more fully
what our Camp Fire organization is trying so hard to teach us. It is
that all we girls are alike in the essential things, only that some of
us have been given better opportunities and more friends. There is
only one thing that really counts, I suppose, and that is not so much
what other people do for us, as what we are able to do for ourselves,
what kind of women we are able to grow into. So you see that though I
believe I was struggling to save the old Ashton house because all my
distinguished ancestors had been living there for generation after
generation and I wanted to have babies of my own to inherit it some
day, now I am even happier because perhaps I have saved it for Dick and
mother by my plan and maybe it will repay them a little for all they
have done for me."
"I don't think the debt is on your side, dear," Polly returned loyally.
But already Betty had risen from her stool and was looking around for
her cloak and cap.
"Let us hurry home now; we shall have a glorious walk!" she exclaimed.
"I have been away from mother long enough and I do want to write to
Esther. She has got to come to see me for a few days, or else I am
going to her. Don't worry; I shall not forget the seven points of our
Camp Fire star."