CHAPTER XXI

Sunrise Cabin

It was Christmas once more at the Camp Fire cabin and a wonderful white night. Everywhere there was snow and enchantment under the "Long-night Moon."

Dinner was over, for from the inside of the great living room came the sound of music and dancing and many gay voices.

Built like a magic circle about the log house were seven camp fires, uncurling their long fingers of flame into the frost-laden air. And now and then fire-makers came out of the cabin, usually in pairs, to pile more logs and pine branches where the need was greatest.

First Eleanor Meade and Frank Wharton, and Eleanor looked tall and picturesque in her Indian costume with a white shawl over her shoulders.

But when they had finished with their fire building they walked on a few yards and then lingered for a moment close to the tall Totem pole, which still stood like a faithful sentinel outside the Sunrise Cabin door, its colors bright with the history of the Camp Fire club it had been chosen to tell.

"I thought I was going to be a great artist when I painted that pole and the walls of our cabin, Frank," Eleanor whispered. "But the paths of a woman's glory sometimes lead----"

"To the altar," Frank returned. "Never mind, dear, there is no place where one so needs to keep the white lights burning." And a little later he and his companion disappeared along the path that led to the grove of pines closer to the foot of the mountain.

For nearly ten minutes no one else opened the cabin door; then two m.u.f.fled figures stole out and industriously piled wood on half a dozen of the dying fires. Out of breath they afterwards paused and began talking to each other. They were the two girls in the Camp Fire club at Sunrise Hill who were now the closest friends.

"I am awfully glad to hear of your new position, Nan. Are you going to make more money?" Sylvia Wharton asked with her old-time bluntness.

And as Nan Graham nodded, she went on, "I want everybody in our club to understand that no matter what any one of us accomplishes, you are the best of the lot. Because the rest of us have had money and aid from other persons, but you have done every blessed thing for yourself and have helped other people besides."

"Yes, but I don't have to help now," Nan explained. "Anthony is able to do everything for the family that is necessary beyond what father earns.

And he has made me promise to go to college next year and study all the courses in domestic science that I can manage, besides chemistry and physiology and hygiene. I shall be a wonderfully learned person if I ever know half the things he wishes me to."

"Anthony is splendid," Sylvia announced, "and you will have a chair in a college some day."

At the absurdity of this suggestion, which nevertheless might one day come true, Nan laughed, putting her arm across Sylvia's shoulder. "We must go back indoors or you may take cold, Dr. Wharton," she teased.

"Truly I am glad that your father and mother have made you undertake the study of medicine instead of going on with nursing. For my part I shall always prefer you as a physician to Dr. Ashton, even though he has a good many years' start of you."

Never could Sylvia take things humorously. "Then you will show very poor judgment, Nan Graham. Richard Ashton is going to be a perfect wonder.

Betty and Esther both say I may be his partner, but I shall not. I am coming back to Woodford after I graduate and help Dr. Barton. Thank heavens, he and Rose Dyer finally decided to marry last month. It will take both of them to look after little Faith. That child is so queer and fanciful I am afraid she may turn out a poet." And Sylvia did not smile or have the least understanding that she had said anything amusing when her friend led her back inside the cabin living room.

Then Meg Everett and her brother John strolled out into the night air, arm in arm, and went and piled logs on the camp fire farthest away from the house.

Meg wore nothing on her head in spite of the cold, so that her yellow-brown hair blew about her face in shocking confusion. Yet her elder brother did not seem to be in a sufficiently critical mood tonight to notice it.

"Don't stay outdoors too long or go far away from the cabin, Betty; I am so afraid you may take cold," Esther Ashton whispered ten minutes after John and Meg had come in, wrapping her own long white fur coat about her sister. Esther had been married now for two weeks and she and Richard Ashton had returned from their honeymoon journey to spend the holidays with their own people before leaving for Boston. So Esther was in bridal white, with no other color than her crown of red hair. Betty wore the last frock she had bought in London before sailing for home, having paid a great deal more for it than she felt that she should, just to taste the joy of being extravagant once again. It was of blue velvet with a silver girdle, with silver embroidery about the throat. Instead of jewelry she wore her chains of Camp Fire honor beads.

"No, I won't be gone long, dear," Betty answered. "I have promised too many people to dance with them. But it is such a glorious night! And I have told Anthony Graham that I would look at the beautiful picture our cabin makes with the camp fires burning around it. The moon is now just above the top of the old hill."

At this moment d.i.c.k Ashton joined them. "Moon, Betty Ashton," he began with a pretense of sternness, "is the very last word I wish to hear from your lips."

Then, as Betty ran away from the possibility of his further objecting to her departure, d.i.c.k turned seriously to Esther.

"Esther, if you have any influence with Betty, do please stop allowing her to have admirers. Tell her that she is not to be permitted to consider any one seriously, say for five or ten years."

As Esther laughed, he added, "Who is it that she has gone off in the moonlight with this time? Anthony Graham? Well, he is a fine fellow, but has his way to make, and thank fortune cannot think of marrying for several years!"

Down by the lake, which was frozen over with a thin coating of ice, forming a kind of mirror for the silver face of the moon, Anthony and Betty were at this moment standing in the shadow looking out over its surface.

"I want to tell you something I never have mentioned, Anthony," Betty said gravely. "I want to thank you for coming to Germany to bring me the good news of my inheritance. Oh, it is not that I could not have waited longer to have heard, but that if the news had not come just when it did, I might have been the unconscious cause of making the two people I love almost best in the world unhappy all their lives. For you see I did not dream that d.i.c.k cared for Esther or she for him. So I kept on urging Esther to devote herself to her music, when all the time she and d.i.c.k wanted to be married, and Esther was only going on with her music because she wanted to earn money for me and for father. As though either one of us wished her to sacrifice herself!"

"Still, your brother was a brave fellow to ask a girl to give up such a future," Anthony Graham returned. "I don't think I could have done it."

Betty frowned at him. "Why not?" she demanded.

Turning toward her, Anthony now looked at her so steadfastly that the girl's white lids drooped.

"Well, once I cared for a girl who was miles and miles above me in family, position, beauty, brains, oh, everything that is worth having, except one thing!" he explained. "Neither she nor her people had money; they had lost it through misfortune. So I used to work and dream that some day I might be able to climb that _one_ hill. But before I was even halfway up my hill--oh, I can't talk in figures of speech, I must speak plain English--why the girl inherited a lot of money. So now she has everything and I have nothing worth while to offer her. Yet I don't wish her to think that I have ever ceased caring for her or ever will."

"Anthony," Betty replied unexpectedly, "I always wear that little enameled pin representing a pine tree that you sent me by Polly a long time ago. But I have been thinking lately that perhaps you did not remember that one of the meanings of the pine tree is faithfulness."

Then she moved away toward the cabin and, as the young man walked along beside her without speaking, she said half to herself and half to him, "Not long ago I had one person declare that he cared for me because I had inherited a fortune. And here is another person who has ceased caring because I have money. Yet, if I have to choose between the two, I believe I like the American way best."

"You don't mean that you like _me_, do you, Betty?" Anthony pleaded.

The Princess shook her head. "I don't mean anything--yet, Anthony," she answered.

Inside the living room on their return they found at least a dozen friends urging Esther to sing. To Margaret Adams' request she finally yielded. For Miss Adams had lately come to Woodford to spend the week with Polly O'Neill's family. And now Polly was standing with her arm slipped caressingly through her friend's.

"I shall never, never be able to understand how Esther Crippen could give up her art and her career for d.i.c.k Ashton's sake, fine as he is,"

Polly murmured in Miss Adams' ear. "If I only had one-half of Esther's talent for the work I hope to do I should be down on my knees with grat.i.tude." Then Polly gave the arm she was holding fast a slight pressure. "But mother says perhaps I may come and have a small part in your company next spring, as you said I might. And surely if anybody in the world can teach me to be a great actress it is you!"

Then Polly's lips twitched and her expression changed in its odd Irish fashion, for across the room she now caught sight of her old enemy and friend, Billy Webster, still glowering disapprovingly at her. But the next instant he had turned and was smiling a reply to some question that Mollie O'Neill had just put to him.

Then no one spoke or moved for several moments, under the spell of Esther's "Good-night" Camp Fire song.

"Beneath the quiet sentinel stars, we now rest.

May we arise to greet the new day, give it our best.

Good-night, good-night, G.o.d over all."

The next volume in the Camp Fire Series shall be known as "The Camp Fire Girls' Careers." The group of girls who first came together to spend a summer as a Camp Fire Club in the woods are now grown up and life has, of course, altered and widened for all of them. The question now is, What will each girl do to make her future happy and successful? Will she marry well or ill, or will she choose to follow some career in which marriage has no part? Although the fifth volume is to deal with the original number of heroines, it will be more largely devoted to the most brilliant and erratic of the twelve Camp Fire Girls, Polly O'Neill.

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