and determined as soon as dinner was over to leave them to themselves.

Naturally, if they had wished her society Betty would have been glad enough to have remained and received their confidences. However, neither Angel nor Faith showed the slightest sign of desiring her society.

In a pale blue silk dinner gown Betty wandered disconsolately about her big house waiting for her husband. He had promised to come home early and it seemed not worth while to settle down to any task beforehand.

The babies were asleep and she did not feel like writing letters either to Esther or her mother. Several times she thought of Polly. But Polly was so far away out West that she really did not know where to find her at the present time. Betty wondered if her best friend was happy with no home or husband or children, nothing intimate in her life but her career as an artist. She had always been puzzled to understand why Polly and Richard Hunt had never married after an engagement lasting over several years. But since neither of them had cared to explain their separation, it was, of course, useless to conjecture again after all this time.

The drawing room was too hopelessly big and formal! After Betty had walked around inside it for half an hour perhaps, sitting down in half a dozen chairs and then pacing up and down, she grew even more restless.

Surely it was no longer early in the evening, and why did Anthony not keep his word and come home at the time he had promised? It would be ever so much more satisfactory to have her talk with him in regard to giving John Everett a good position, with a comfortable salary, early in the evening, before they were both tired and wanting to sleep.

Suddenly, with an impatient stamp of her foot, Mrs. Graham fled from her state apartment. She was homesick tonight for her old home in Woodford, where she and Anthony had lived ever since their marriage until his election as Governor, and where her mother still lived.

Pa.s.sing through the hall, more and more did Betty become convinced that Anthony was not keeping his word, for the tall clock registered quarter to ten. The upper part of the house looked dark and quiet as if the rest of the family had already gone to bed. Besides it was lonely enough on the first floor, for the servants had their sitting room and dining room in a big old-fashioned bas.e.m.e.nt and were nowhere to be seen. Of course, one of them would come at once if she desired anything, but Betty could not think of anything she wished at present except society and amus.e.m.e.nt.

In the library back of the drawing room a few moments later she decided that things were not so bad. There was a little wood fire in the grate, kept there for its cheerful influence and not because the steam-heated house required it; but Betty had not been a Camp Fire girl for half her lifetime without responding to the cheerful influence of even a grate fire.

Sinking down into a comfortable chair, she picked up a magazine and began reading. The clock in the hall ticked on and on and she was not conscious of the pa.s.sing of time. The story was not particularly interesting--an absurd tale of a husband and wife who had quarreled. It was, of course, perfectly unnecessary for people who loved each other to quarrel, Betty Graham insisted to herself, and yet the writer did not seem convinced of this fact. Toward the close of the story she grew more interested and excited.

Then, without actually hearing a sound or seeing a figure, Betty suddenly looked up, and there in the open doorway of the library stood a strange man. Like a flash her mind worked. She was alone on the first floor of a big, rambling old house and uncertain of how late the hour.

Must she at once cry for help, or should she try to get across the floor and ring the bell furiously?--for that would be more certain to be heard. Yet for the moment her knees felt absurdly weak and her hands cold. However, with a stupendous effort Betty now summoned her courage, of which the shock of the moment had robbed her. For her Camp Fire training had taught her the proper spirit in which to meet emergencies.

Quietly Mrs. Graham rose up from her chair.

"What is it you wish? I think you have made some mistake," she remarked stiffly. For in spite of her terror the man in the doorway did not look like an ordinary thief. Besides, if he were a thief why did he remain there staring at her? Why had he not committed his burglary and gotten away with his spoils without alarming her?

But he was now advancing a few steps toward her and there was no light in the library, except from the reading lamp.

"Anthony!" Betty cried instinctively, although she knew that the Governor could not be in the house at the time, else he would have come straight to her.

Then to her immense amazement, almost to her stupefaction, the intruder actually smiled.

"Betty," he answered, "or rather Mrs. Graham, have I startled you? Yes, I know it is dreadfully informal, my coming upon you in this fashion and not even allowing your butler to announce me. But I ran down from New York today to spend the night with Meg and Jack Emmet. A few moments ago we began talking of you. Well, as I've got to go back to town in the morning I decided that nothing would give me more pleasure than seeing the wife of our distinguished new Governor, so here I am!"

Positively the stranger was holding out his hand.

Moreover, the next instant Betty had laid her cold fingers inside it.

"John, John Everett, how ridiculous of me not to have recognized you!

Yet, though I was thinking of you, you were the last person in the world I expected to see at present. And I confess you frightened me." Betty made her visitor a little curtsey. "Remember how you boys used to try to terrify us when we were in camp just to prove the superiority of Boy Scouts over Camp Fire girls? I would not have been frightened then! But do let us have more light so that we can really see each other."

Betty touched the electric b.u.t.ton and the room was suddenly aglow.

Then she again faced her companion. It had been foolish of her not to have recognized her old friend, John Everett. He did look a good deal older, but he was a large, handsome man with blond hair, blue eyes and a charming manner. Moreover, he was undoubtedly returning Betty's glance with undisguised admiration.

"You won't mind my saying it, will you, Mrs. Graham, but you are more stunning than ever. I suppose it sounds a little impertinent of me, but you know even though I always thought you tremendously pretty as a girl, really I never believed----" John began.

Betty shook her head reproachfully and yet perhaps she was a little pleased, even though she recognized her visitor's compliment as extravagant.

Motioning to another chair, she then sat down in her former one. For a few moments there was a kind of constraint in the atmosphere, such as one often feels in meeting again an old friend with whom one has been intimate in former years and not seen in a long time.

Under her lashes Betty found herself studying her visitor's face. At first she did not think that he appeared much discouraged by his misfortunes, but the next moment she was not so sure.

"I am awfully pleased the world has gone so well with you, Mrs. Graham,"

John Everett began, to cover the awkwardness of the silence. "You were a wise girl to have known that Anthony had so much more in him than the rest of us fellows. I hear he is making things hum in the state of New Hampshire."

Betty looked a little shocked. "Oh, I did not care for Anthony because I thought him cleverer than other people. I--oh, does one ever know exactly why one cares? But do tell me about yourself, John. You don't mind my knowing of your present difficulty? Meg has just told me, but I am sure things will be all right soon again."

Half an hour later the young Governor, coming in very tired from his long day's work, seeing the light burning in the library, walked quickly toward the door. He was worn out and hungry and wanted nothing so much as supper and quiet talk with his wife. For Anthony had never gotten over the pleasure he felt at returning home to find her there to receive him. Already it seemed ages since he had said good-bye at breakfast.

However, just before he arrived at the open door he heard the sound of Betty's laughter and some one answering her.

Of course it was selfish and absurd of him to feel a sudden sense of disappointment. He knew that he should have been glad to find Betty entertained.

Before entering the library the new Governor managed to a.s.sume a more hospitable expression. He was also surprised at finding John Everett their caller. But then he too had known him in their boyhood days in Woodford and was glad to see him. Certainly they had never been friends as boys. The young Governor could still remember that John had then seemed to have all the things he had wanted as a boy--good looks, good family, money enough for a college education. Yet with all these advantages John had not been able to win Betty. Now was Anthony's chance to feel sorry for him. Lately he too had heard that John Everett was in some kind of business trouble. He hoped that this was not true.

Therefore it was Anthony who insisted that their visitor should remain with them while they had a little supper party in the library. And Betty was glad to see that her old friend was making a good impression upon her husband. For she was now firmly determined to ask Anthony to give John Everett a fine position at once.

CHAPTER VI

THE FIRST DISILLUSION

"BUT you can't mean, Anthony, that you positively refuse to do what I ask?"

It was a little after midnight and Betty and Anthony were up-stairs in their own apartment. Betty had on a blue dressing gown and her hair was braided and hung over her shoulders. But her cheeks were flushed, her gray eyes dark with temper and her voice trembled in spite of her effort to keep it still.

Undeniably Anthony appeared both obstinate and worried. Moreover, he was extremely sleepy and yet somehow Betty must be made to understand before either of them could rest. Never before had he dreamed that she could be so unreasonable.

"I don't think that is exactly a fair way of stating the thing, Betty,"

the young Governor answered gently enough. "You see, I have tried to explain to you, dear, that I can't give positions to friends just as though running the affairs of the state was my private business. I could afford to take risks with that if I wished, but you know I promised when I was elected Governor only to make appointments of the best men I could find."

If possible, the Governor's wife looked even more unconvinced. She was sitting in a big blue chair almost the color of her wrapper, and every now and then rocked back and forth to express her emotion, or else tapped the floor mutinously with the toe of her bedroom slipper.

"You talk as if there was something wrong with John Everett," she answered argumentatively, "and as if I were asking you to give a position to a man who was stupid or dishonest. I am perfectly sure John is none of these things. He has been unfortunate in business lately, of course, but that might happen to any one. Really, Anthony, would you mind telling me exactly what you have in your mind against John Everett?

Of course, I remember you never liked him when you were boys, but I thought you were too big a man----"

"See here, Betty," the Governor interrupted, "can't we let this subject drop? I never knew you to be like this before." He had thrown himself down on a couch, but now reached over and tried to take his wife's reluctant hand. "I've been explaining to you for the past hour that I have nothing in the world against John Everett personally, except that he has no training for the kind of work I need men to do. He has been a Wall Street broker. Well, that is all right, but what does he know about prison reform, about building good roads for the state, or anything else I'm after? Just because he is your friend--our friend, I mean--I can't thrust him into a good job over the heads of better men. Please look at this as I do, Betty. I hate desperately to refuse your request and I know Meg will be hurt with me too and think I'm unfaithful to old times.

Heigh-ho, I wonder if anybody thinks being Governor is a cheerful job?

Good-night, Princess."

Plainly meaning to end their conversation, Anthony had gotten up from his sofa. He now stood above Betty, waiting to have her make peace with him. But Betty looked far from peaceful, more like a spoiled and angry little girl thwarted in a wish which she had not imagined could be refused.

Of course the Princess had always been more or less spoiled all her life. Her friends in the Camp Fire Club and her family had always acknowledged this. But she was usually reasonable with the sweetest possible temper, so that no one really minded. Nevertheless Betty was not accustomed to having her serious wishes denied, and by her husband of all people!

Really she would have liked very much to cry with disappointment and vexation, except that she was much too proud. Moreover, even now she could not finally accept the idea that Anthony would not eventually do as she asked.

But she drew back coldly from any idea of making friends until then.

"Good-night," she replied indifferently. "I don't think I shall try to go to sleep." Her voice trembled now in spite of all her efforts.