The Camp Fire Girls in After Years.

by Margaret Vandercook.

CHAPTER I

THE INAUGURAL BALL

FACING the hills, the great house had a wonderful view of the curving banks of a river.

Half an hour before sunset a number of workmen hurried away across the grounds, while a little later from behind the closed blinds glowed hundreds of softly shaded electric lights. The lawns were strung with rows and rows of small lamps suspended from one giant tree to the next, but waiting for actual darkness to descend before shedding forth their illumination.

Evidently preparations had been made on a splendid scale, both inside the house and out, for an entertainment of some kind. Yet curiously there seemed to be a strange hush over everything, a sense of anxiety and suspense pervading the very atmosphere. Then, in odd contrast to the other lights, the room on the third floor to the left was in almost total darkness save for a single tiny flame no larger than a nurse's covered candle.

At about half-past six o'clock suddenly and with almost no noise the front door of the house opened. The next moment a slight form appeared upon the flight of broad steps and gazed down the avenue. From behind her came the mingled fragrance of roses and violets, while before her arose the even more delicious tang of earth and gra.s.s and softly drifting autumn leaves of the late October evening.

Nevertheless neither the beauty of the evening nor its perfumes attracted the girl's attention, for her expression remained grave and frightened, and without appearing aware of it she sighed several times.

Small and dark, with an extraordinary quant.i.ty of almost blue-black hair and a thin white face dominated by a pair of unhappy dark eyes, the girl's figure suggested a child, although she was plainly older. In her hand she carried a cane upon which she leaned slightly.

"It does seem too hard for this trouble to have come at this particular time," she murmured in unconscious earnestness. "If only I could do something to help, yet there is absolutely nothing, of course, except to wait. Still, I wish Faith would come home."

Then, after peering for another moment down the avenue of old elms and maple trees, she turned and went back into the house, closing the door behind her and moving almost noiselessly.

For the present no one else was to be seen, at least in the front part of the big mansion, except the solitary figure of this young girl, who looked somewhat incongruous and out of place in her handsome surroundings. Notwithstanding, she seemed perfectly at home and was plainly neither awed by nor unfamiliar with them. The hall was decorated with palms and evergreens and festoons of vines, and adorning the high walls were portraits, most of them of men of stern countenance and of a past generation, while here and there stood a marble bust. But without regarding any of these things with special attention the girl walked quickly past them and entered the drawing room on the right. Then at last her face brightened.

Surely the room was beautiful enough to have attracted any one's attention, although it was not exactly the kind of room one would see in a private house, for it happened to be in the Governor's mansion in the state of New Hampshire.

In preparation for the evening's entertainment the furniture had been moved away except for a number of chairs and divans. The two tall marble mantels were banked with roses and violets and baskets of roses swung from the two crystal chandeliers.

With a murmured exclamation the girl dropped down on a low stool in the corner where the evergreens almost entirely concealed her and where she appeared more like an elf creature that had come into the house with the green things surrounding her than an everyday girl. For a quarter of an hour she must have remained there alone, when she was aroused from her reverie by some one's entrance. Then, although the girl did not move or speak, her whole face changed and the sullen, unhappy look disappeared, while oddly her eyes filled with tears.

There could have been nothing fairer in the room than the woman who had just come quietly into it. She must have been about twenty-eight years old; her hair was a beautiful auburn, like sunshine on certain brown and red leaves in the woods in late October; her eyes were gray, and she was of little more than medium height, with slender hips, but a full throat and chest. At the present moment she was wearing a house gown of light blue cashmere, and although she looked as if life might always before have been kind to her, at present her face was pale and there were marks of sleeplessness about her eyes and mouth.

Apparently trying to summon an interest in her surroundings which she scarcely felt, she glanced about the room until her eyes rested on the silent girl.

"Why, Angel, what are you doing in here alone, child? How lovely everything looks, and yet I am afraid I cannot come down to receive people tonight. All afternoon I have been trying to make up my mind to attempt it and each moment it seems more impossible."

Then with a gesture indicating both fatigue and discouragement the woman sat down, folding her hands in her lap.

"But the baby isn't any worse, I heard only half an hour ago," the younger girl interrupted quickly, and in answer to a shake of the head from her companion went on: "You simply must be present tonight, Princess. This is the greatest night in your husband's career and you know the Inaugural Ball would be an entire failure without you! Staying up-stairs won't do little Tony any good. And think what it would mean to the Governor to have to manage all alone! You know you promised Anthony before his election that you would attend to the social side of his office for him, as he declared he didn't know enough to undertake it. So you can't desert him at the very beginning."

Swiftly Angelique Martins crossed the room and seated herself on the arm of her friend's chair. "I promise you on my honor that I shall sit just outside little Tony's bedroom the entire evening and if he is even the tiniest bit worse I shall come down and tell you on the instant."

There was a moment of silence and then the newly elected Governor's wife replied: "I suppose you are right, Angel, and I must try to do what you say, for nothing else is fair to Anthony. Yet I never dreamed of ever having to choose between my love and duty to my baby and my husband! But dear me, I am sure I have not the faintest idea how the Governor's Lady should behave at her first reception, even if I have to make my debut in the character in the next few hours."

Then, in a lighter tone than she had yet used in their conversation, Betty Ashton, who was now Mrs. Governor Graham, smiled, placing her hand for a moment on that of her companion.

For the friendship between Betty Ashton and the little French girl whom she had discovered at the hospital in Boston had never wavered even after the Betty of the Camp Fire days had become Mrs. Anthony Graham, wife of the youngest governor ever elected to the highest office in his state. Moreover, Betty and Anthony now had two children of their own, the little Tony, a baby of about two years old, who was now dangerously ill on the top floor of the Governor's mansion, and Bettina, who was six.

Angelique Martins was almost like an adoring younger sister. She was approaching twenty; yet on account of her lameness and shyness she appeared much younger. But she was one of the odd girls who in some ways are like children and yet in others are older than people ever dream.

After her mother's death, several years before, she had come to live with Betty and Anthony and held a position as an a.s.sistant stenographer in the Governor's office. Ordinarily she was strangely silent and reserved, so that no one, not even her best friend, entirely understood her.

"But you must not miss the ball tonight, Angel," Betty now continued more cheerfully. "You and Faith have been talking of it for weeks, and so I can't have you sacrifice yourself for me. Besides, one of the nurses can do what you offered and send me a message if I am needed.

Don't you remember that your dress is even prettier than Faith's? I was perfectly determined it should be." And Betty smiled, amused at herself.

She was always a little jealous for her protege of Faith Barton. It was true that since their first meeting at Sunrise Cabin the two girls had become close friends. But then Betty could seldom fail to see, just as she had in the beginning, the painful contrast between them. Faith had grown into a beautiful girl and Dr. Barton and Rose were entirely devoted to her; and she had also both charm and talent, although still given to impossible dreams about people and things.

Angel now shook her head. "You know you would feel safer with me to stand guard over Tony than if you had only one of the servants," she argued a little resentfully. Then with her cheeks crimsoning: "Besides, Princess, you know that I perfectly loathe having to meet strangers. No one in the world except you could ever have induced me even to think of it. I am ever so much happier alone with you and the children or pegging away at my typewriter at the office. I believe people ought to remain where they belong in this world, and you can't possibly make me look like Faith by dressing me up in pretty clothes. I should never conceive of being her rival in anything."

There was a curious note in the lame girl's voice that pa.s.sed unnoticed, for her companion suddenly inquired: "By the way, dear, do you know what has become of Faith? I pa.s.sed her room and she was not there. I hope she is not out alone. I know she has a fashion of loving to go about in the twilight, dreaming her dreams and composing verse. Still, when she is here visiting me I would much rather she did not."

"But Faith isn't alone. She is with the Governor's secretary, Kenneth Helm," Angel answered. "Mr. Helm came to the house with a message and Faith asked him to go out with her."

Betty smiled. Faith Barton scorned conventionalities and felt sure that she was above certain of them. "Oh, I did not know Kenneth and Faith had learned to know each other so well in two weeks' time," she replied carelessly, her attention wandering to the little Tony up-stairs.

"However, Faith is all right if she is with Kenneth. I know Anthony has the greatest possible trust in him or he would never have selected him for his secretary in such troublesome political times as these. I don't believe you seem to like Kenneth as much as you once did. But you must not be prejudiced against so many people. He used to be very kind to you."

Without waiting for Angel's reply Betty walked away. If she could have seen her expression she might have been surprised or annoyed.

For sometimes Angel had wondered if it would be wise for her to take her friend into her confidence. Surely she had reasons for not being so sure of the Governor's confidence in his secretary. But then what proof had she to offer against him? Besides, people often considered her suspicious and unfriendly. Moreover, in this case the French girl did not altogether trust herself. Was there not some personal reason in her dislike? It was entirely true that she had not felt like this in the beginning of their acquaintance.

With a feeling of irritation against herself, Angel started to leave the drawing room. This was plainly no time for worrying over the future; she must go and have something to eat at once so as to be able to help watch the baby. There was only one regret the girl felt at her own decision.

She was sorry not to see Betty receiving her guests at the Inaugural Ball tonight. For her friend remained her ideal of what a great lady should be in the best sense. Moreover, there would be other old friends whom she had once known at Sunrise Cabin. However, some of them were guests at the mansion, so she could meet them later.

Out in the hall the little French girl now discovered Faith and Kenneth Helm returning from their walk. The Governor's private secretary must have been about twenty-four or five years old. He was a Yale graduate and had light-brown hair and eyes of almost the same color. He had the shoulders of an athlete, a clear, bright complexion, and as Angel watched them she could not deny that he had a particularly charming smile. However, he was a.s.suredly not looking at her. It was absurd to care, of course, yet nevertheless even the humblest person scarcely likes being wilfully ignored. And Angel was sure that the young man had seen her, even though he gave no appearance of having done so.

The next moment, after her companion's departure, Faith Barton turned to her friend. Faith's cheeks were delicately flushed from her walk in the autumn air and her pale gold hair was blowing about her face. Her blue eyes were wide open and clear and she looked curiously innocent of any wrong or misfortune in the world. Surely there were seldom two girls offering a more complete contrast than the two who now tiptoed softly down the long hall together.

"I am going to rest a little while," Faith said at parting. "But do let us try to have a long, quiet talk tomorrow. I want to tell you a secret that no one else in the world must know for the present."

CHAPTER II

NEW NAMES FOR OLD ACQUAINTANCES

THERE was a shimmer of silver and blue on the stairs and then the man with his eyes upturned saw his wife moving toward him in a kind of cloud.

The next moment with a laugh of mingled embarra.s.sment and pleasure Betty Graham put up her hand, covering her husband's eyes.

"You must not look at me like that, Anthony, or you will make me abominably vain," she whispered. "Wait until the girls and the receiving party appear and then you will see what an ordinary person the new 'Governor's Lady' is and repent having raised humble Betty Ashton to such an exalted position."

Arm in arm the husband and wife now moved toward the drawing room.

"How little we ever dreamed of this grandeur, dear, in the days when I had to work so hard to persuade you to marry me."