“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.
On the following evening, after an earlier and far simpler dinner, with no guests present, at half past seven o’clock, the group of Camp Fire girls assembled in their French drawing-room for their first ceremonial meeting since their arrival at Versailles.
The girls were wearing their Camp Fire costumes and the honor beads acquired by most of them through several years of membership in their Camp Fire group. The only new members who had been recently admitted were Mary Gilchrist and Yvonne Fleury, who had been taken into the Camp Fire during their residence in the old French farmhouse on the Aisne. Marguerite Arnot, who had only made the acquaintance of the other Camp Fire girls in the last few weeks was not at present a member of the organization.
Assuredly the present drawing-room had never before been the scene of so unusual a ceremony! The atmosphere it created, with its artificial and conventional furnishing, was in truth a far cry from the simplicity and outdoor setting of the original camp fires.
Nevertheless, the Camp Fire girls had no idea of giving up their ceremonial meetings for any such reason. This evening to the best of their ability the drawing-room had been adapted to their purposes.
In the grate a fire burned brightly; on the high white mantel, instead of its usual ornaments, were three white candles, representing Work, Health, Love, the symbols of the American Camp Fire.
The candles were lighted, and there was no other light in the room, save one shaded lamp in the background.
Seated in a semicircle about the fire on the ceremonial cushions were the girls; Mrs. Burton had not appeared. She would come in later.
Miss Patricia had announced that she would not take part in the present ceremony and would not be seen until about bed time.
Now and then, either because she was too much engaged with some interest of her own, or because she wished the girls to feel greater liberty for their discussions and plans, she refused to be present at the Camp Fire meetings. Yet if Miss Patricia had any particular suggestion to offer, or command to enforce, she was then very much in evidence.
Tonight, before the arrival of the Camp Fire guardian, Bettina Graham had taken charge of the meeting at the request of the other girls.
“We are supposed to begin a discussion of our plans for any new Camp Fire work we wish to undertake in France,” Bettina announced.
“Since we were forced to retreat from our farmhouse on the Aisne to Paris, we seem not to have had any definite purposes. Tante and I spoke of this the other afternoon and decided to bring the question up before the Camp Fire for an open debate. Any one of us who has any idea of what character of work our Camp Fire group should undertake in France for the next few months, will please state it.
“To most of us it does seem a great enough experience to be allowed to live here at Versailles while the work of the Peace Conference is going on in Paris. I have wondered if in any possible way the Peace Conference could offer us a personal inspiration. Does it sound too visionary to suggest that we might in some small fashion work toward future peace?”
During Bettina’s speech the Camp Fire guardian had entered the room unobserved and now stood silent, listening to the discussion.
Always a little amused over Bettina’s idealistic points of view and considering herself severely practical, Peggy Webster smiled a little teasingly.
“I don’t believe we are going to be able to help forward the peace of the world very seriously, Princess,” she argued, using the other girl’s former Camp Fire title. “Moreover, I don’t believe many of us will pay especial attention to the proceedings of the Peace Conference, or understand them if we did. Perhaps you and Tante and Aunt Patricia may be the exceptions. The rest of us were not brought up in a political atmosphere as you have been on account of your father’s position in Washington. Our chief pleasure in being in glorious France at this time lies in the opportunity we may have to see so many famous persons. Never shall I forget President Wilson’s arrival in Paris and the wonderful enthusiasm of his reception! We must go into Paris again within a few days to witness the arrival of the Peace Delegates, who will open the plenary session of the conference at the foreign office on the Quai d’Orsai.
“So far as our own Camp Fire work is concerned, for the present don’t you think being so near Paris affords us the best chance for continuing the organization of a French Camp Fire? We did start a few groups of Camp Fire girls during the months we spent on the Aisne, but the second devastation of the country by the German horde probably separated the girls so that they may never meet again. Here in Paris we can start a number of Camp Fire units at the same time. We must also try to interest some prominent French women to go on with the French Camp Fire organization after we return home.”
There was a little murmur of applause as Peggy Webster ended her extemporaneous talk.
The next instant Alice Ashton interposed, in a slightly offended tone:
“I think your suggestion for our Camp Fire work in France for the next few months admirable, Peggy. But I don’t in the least agree with your statement that living here at Versailles during the dawn of peace, no one, except Bettina, is to be interested in the details of the Peace Conference. Neither do I see why Bettina’s suggestion, that we try in some humble fashion to help toward peace, need be altogether scorned. Each human being can contribute a tiny quota. In the future women are to be allowed the vote, which means a voice in just such questions as may decide war or peace. Our own group of Camp Fire girls is growing up so that in a few more years we shall perhaps be too old to think of ourselves as Camp Fire girls and must begin the work of guardians. If we believe in peace, if we preach and practice it among ourselves and in our Camp Fire organization, and if the Camp Fire becomes international, as it seems to be doing, why then just so many girls will be trained to lend the weight of their influence toward the future peace of the world!”
“Bravo, Alice! You have just said what I wished to say, only you have said it more convincingly. I did not wish to interrupt you and you girls were too interested to notice my entrance!” Mrs. Burton exclaimed.
She then sat down in a low chair which had been kept ready for her in the center of the group of girls.
“Suppose we try to follow Bettina’s, Peggy’s and Alice’s suggestions, as they seem to me not to oppose each other,” she continued.
“For my part I will undertake to find some interesting women in Paris who will agree to aid us with our French Camp Fire and take charge of it after we leave France. We must interest poorer French girls as well as rich ones, we must introduce them by letter to Camp Fire girls in the United States so they may exchange ideas and plans and learn from each other. I hate to confess the fact that you girls are growing older and must soon look forward to undertaking the duties of Camp Fire guardians, nevertheless it is true. Your efforts here in France will be a great help later on.
“In regard to Bettina’s and Alice’s points of view. Naturally we cannot see at present how any one of us can help toward the future peace of society. And yet Alice is right when she insists that every tiny quota does make some difference. Every life that both preaches and practices peace is an influence for peace.
“But there is a suggestion I wish to make, which may strike you girls as more impracticable than any one else’s. You girls must have read and heard, as I have recently, that a surprising amount of ill feeling has been developing between the French and American soldiers since the close of the war. Strange, isn’t it, when they were such loyal comrades in arms! But I suppose it is harder to keep up the morale during the slow approach of peace than under the greater excitement of war. Senator Duval told me the other night that there is also a secret German propaganda which is trying to create ill feeling between the soldiers of the Allied armies. Well, it may be possible that you girls will meet a number of these men in the next few weeks. Perhaps, more than you realize, you may be an influence for peace and good feeling between them! If the chance comes to any of you, do your best.”
At the farthest end of the circle away from Mrs. Burton, at this moment Sally Ashton’s expression changed from one of previous indifference to amusement, mingled with a faint sarcasm.
“Where did you receive the impression, Tante, that friendship between girls and men has ever been an influence for peace? So far I have not seen a great deal of the world, but I think it has more often been an occasion for war. However, you may know best!”
Sally’s unexpected rejoinder had the effect of a thunderbolt launched from a clear sky into a sun warmed atmosphere.
There was only one way to receive so ill tempered a speech. Mrs. Burton laughed, the girls following her example.
Of late Sally had been so unreasonably bad tempered, so nervous and irritable, that, having made up their minds, either that she was ill, or else seriously troubled, the Camp Fire girls had refused to pay any special attention to her rapidly changing moods.
Moreover, Sally had never made a pretence of wholly forgiving them for their suspicion of her during the time she was nursing Lieutenant Fleury back to health.[3]
In spite of Lieutenant Fleury’s appreciation of Sally’s kindness and self sacrifice, never afterwards had she and his sister, Yvonne Fleury, become intimate friends.
“Well, Sally, I was far from suggesting that any one of you girls develop a romantic friendship in the next few weeks. Difficulties only develop when romance creeps in.
“I think one marriage, Gerry Williams to Felipe Morris, and also Peggy’s and Ralph’s engagement is a sufficient supply of romance for our Camp Fire for some time to come! I am hoping Gerry and Felipe may join us when Felipe is finally discharged from the army. Gerry writes they intend returning to California and will make their home at their ranch near the spot where we spent our summer together ‘Behind the Lines.’”
Purposely Mrs. Burton had changed the subject of her conversation from a Camp Fire discussion to one which she hoped might be of personal interest to Sally Ashton. After her sarcastic little speech, Sally had flushed uncomfortably, as if sorry she had spoken, and Gerry Williams had been the only one of the Camp Fire girls for whom Sally had ever displayed any particular affection.
At present Mrs. Burton was more unhappy over Sally than she had dreamed possible, having always taken it for granted that Sally would be one of the persons who would accept life in an indolent, slightly selfish fashion, without much trouble either to herself or to other people.
Certainly she had altered. And something must have occurred which was responsible for Sally’s present state of mind and health.
As she was as much in the dark as ever, Mrs. Burton hoped that Aunt Patricia knew; but if Miss Patricia had expected that Sally would also make a confidante of her in the few moments they had spent together the other evening, she had been mistaken. Sally had appeared interested only in the approaching dinner party. In answer to a direct question she had merely protested that she had nothing to confide and did not understand why she was supposed to have changed.
Two hours longer the Camp Fire girls and their guardian continued to discuss the details of their new Camp Fire work in France.
Marguerite Arnot and Yvonne Fleury both offered to introduce the American girls to their acquaintances in Paris.
And this afforded the very opportunity Mrs. Burton had hoped for; Yvonne’s friends would probably be fairly well off, while Marguerite’s would offer a sharp contrast.
The young French dressmaker had been working in a dressmaking establishment when Miss Patricia had first learned to know her, and before becoming a member of the household at Versailles had been living in a garret in an old house in Paris. Tonight she explained that her friends were poor girls who were making their living just as she was.
It was actually toward midnight, with the Camp Fire rules of early bedtime forgotten, when a sharp knock came at the drawing-room door.
The girls and Mrs. Burton started guiltily; there was no need to ask who had knocked, the sound had been too peremptory.
The next instant Miss Patricia stalked in.
She was frowning and yet she carried a large tray of hot chocolate.
“Vera, please go into the dining-room and bring in the wafers you will find there,” she demanded, always preferring Vera’s aid to any one of the other girls. “Naturally the maids are in bed and asleep at this hour of the night. No other Camp Fire guardian than Polly Burton would have permitted you to remain until nearly morning. I suppose I shall have to allow all of you an extra hour of sleep.”
Still grumbling Miss Patricia set down her tray, allowing the girls to serve themselves, while she pretended to ignore Mrs. Burton’s apology.
“I am sorry, we had no idea it was so late. You are right, Aunt Patricia, I suppose I shall never make a really satisfactory guardian, no matter how many years I have the honor. But don’t you think we get on fairly well with you to supervise us? I wish you had heard our discussion to-night! We have many new plans and no one can say what rich experiences may not develop through them. At least we shall keep busy while we await the dawn of peace!”
Miss Patricia’s grim expression relaxed slightly.
“Certainly if peace of the kind we hope and pray for, Polly Burton, ever arrives upon this earth, it will be a peace which passes many people’s understanding at the present time.”
A few moments later, placing her arm about Mrs. Burton with an unconscious display of tenderness, Miss Patricia led the way toward bed.
A few days later the Camp Fire girls and their chaperons motored from Versailles into Paris for the day.
The little town of Versailles, once famous as the abode of royalty, is only a short distance from the French capital and easily reached by street car or automobile.
As Mrs. Burton, Miss Patricia and the entire group of girls started off together, they composed a somewhat formidable party. Their plan was to spend a few hours together and later to separate to fulfill a number of different engagements.
There was a particular reason for today’s excursion, which took place upon a Saturday forever to be remembered. The Supreme Council of the Peace Conference was to have its first meeting.
Although the Conference was not to assemble until afternoon, by twelve o’clock the Camp Fire party found the streets crowded with sight-seers, soldiers and civilians, men and women of many nations.
Foreigners who had been living in Paris during the four years of the war, with Germany sometimes knocking almost at her gates, had found a new characteristic in the Latin city. The Paris of the first few days of the great war, with her sudden burst of passion and unrestraint, had altered to a soberer Paris. Calm under attack, even under apparent defeat, she had given the world an extraordinary example of courage and steadfastness.
As Paris had borne her discomfiture, so she bore her present triumph.
Today the girls were surprised to find how little excitement there seemed to be in spite of the number of people to be seen.
The Allied representatives, who formed the Supreme Council of the Peace Conference, were to have a warm and hospitable welcome from the citizens of Paris. But there was no evidence of the spontaneous joy and enthusiasm which had greeted President and Mrs. Wilson several weeks before upon their first arrival in the city.
After an early luncheon the Camp Fire party went directly to a house near the Quai d’Orsay where Senator Duval had secured them seats upon a little balcony overlooking the bridge and the long windows of the “Salle de la Paix,” in the French Foreign Office, where the formal opening of the Conference would take place.
From their places on the veranda they could look down upon the spectators swarming back and forth, but restrained by the double line of French gendarmes who were to keep the streets clear for the approach of the delegates.
The winter afternoon was unexpectedly brilliant with a clear blue sky and bright sunshine. Far up and down the River Seine were the series of beautiful bridges which connect the two sides of the City of Paris. Little boats were riding peacefully at anchor near the quais. Glancing upward one beheld the skyline of the golden and white city. As many of the houses and public buildings of Paris are built either of white stone or yellow cement, Paris often appears white and gold in the sunlight.
“Do you think we will be able to recognize the delegations as they drive toward the Foreign Office?” Peggy Webster inquired a little breathlessly. In spite of her ordinary self control she had lost her usual color and was pale with emotion.
Betraying a good deal of only partially suppressed excitement herself, Mrs. Burton smiled and nodded in response.
“I think you and Bettina and I shall at least recognize President Wilson. Aunt Patricia is such a partisan of the French, she is probably more interested to discover Clemenceau, France’s remarkable old Premier, who is known as ‘The Tiger.’ But look!”
It was now quarter of three o’clock.
At this moment a carriage was seen to drive up before the steps of the Foreign Office. The troops began blowing a fanfare of trumpets. The carriage stopped and several small men in black frock coats got out. These were the Japanese delegates to the Conference. They were followed by the Siamese and then the East Indians in their picturesque turbans.
Suddenly one appreciated the Allies in the great European war had not been merely the four nations which had borne the brunt of the fighting. They represented eighteen nations from every quarter of the globe; for the first time in the world’s history they were to meet this afternoon in the interest of a world peace.
Later other delegates continued to arrive, the Camp Fire girls leaning perilously over their balcony to watch them, Miss Patricia and Mrs. Burton crowding close behind.
All at once a different emotion swept over the crowd in the street.
Bettina Graham turned to clutch Mrs. Burton by the arm.
“President Wilson!”
There was no need for her explanation. At this instant the American girls were convinced that the fanfare of trumpets was expressing a more ardent welcome. Everywhere faces had brightened, women were seen holding up their babies in their arms. The people in the streets and from the windows of the houses nearby, were making more of a demonstration.
Through the clear air, loud shouts were resounding, “Vive le Wilson! Vive le Wilson!”
A tall man, holding a top hat in his hand, and with his hair almost white, smiled and bowed. A moment later he also disappeared up the steps of the French Foreign Office.
Ten minutes after, at exactly three o’clock in the afternoon, the French President Poincaré made his appearance.
When he entered the Foreign Office the outside doors were closed.
Almost immediately the crowds in the streets began to disperse.
The French President was to make an address of welcome to the visiting delegates. It might be hours before the famous guests to the French capital would again reappear in the streets.
“Do you think we had best wait here sometime longer until the way is clear, Aunt Patricia?” Mrs. Burton inquired. ”All of us have a number of important matters to attend to before we return to Versailles, but I am always afraid of crowds!”
“Then you should never have set foot in Paris today. I told you that you were not strong enough,” Miss Patricia returned unsympathetically. “So far as I am concerned I am obliged to be off at once. Sally, I believe you wish to come with me. Bettina, you and Alice Ashton and Vera are to go with Marguerite Arnot to meet several of her friends. I believe, Peggy, that you and Mary Gilchrist are to remain with Yvonne and have tea with some acquaintances of hers. Polly, as usual you have an appointment alone. Remember you are to be responsible for three of the girls and I will meet the others. We are all to be at home for dinner in Versailles this evening at seven o’clock.”
As if she were a Major-General, having issued her command Miss Patricia, followed by Sally Ashton, departed.
A few moments later the others went down into the street together, but separated beyond the bridge. Mrs. Burton, Yvonne, Peggy and Mary drove away in one direction, while the other girls, climbing into an ancient horse cab, moved off toward one of the poorer neighborhoods of the city.
Half an hour they drove through the narrow, winding streets of the Latin quarter, the three American girls fascinated by the unique scenes, which were a matter of course to Marguerite Arnot, who had spent years of her life in this vicinity.
Along the route were numerous small art shops filled with posters, some of them continuing to represent war and others the approach of peace. The posters were painted in bold, crude colors, or else in pastels. The figures were sometimes bizarre and sometimes beautiful, but always they were unusual, since the French artist has an unusual gift for poster work.
At one of the small art shops, Bettina insisted that they dismount for a few moments. She had spied a poster in the window which she wished to purchase for Mrs. Burton. Oddly the figure of the woman, although symbolizing France, was not unlike Mrs. Burton. The drawing represented a woman dark and slender, with a small head and heavy black hair, with delicate and large, expressive eyes. In the drawing the woman had gathered into her arms the children of France. Above the woman and children, seated at a small table, were a group of men who were supposed to be writing the terms of a new world peace. The idea of the poster undoubtedly was that no matter what the peace terms might be, France would continue to protect her children. It was entitled “Glorious France.”
Beyond this art shop, a few blocks further on, Marguerite Arnot ordered the cab to stop before a house where lived the friends to whom she was to introduce the three American girls.
Bettina stopped to pay the cabman, who was the typical French cab driver in a tall battered silk hat, the girl drivers having nearly all disappeared soon after the signing of the armistice.
The other girls went on and stood at the door talking to the concierge.
Instead of joining them at once, Bettina stood hesitating at the edge of the sidewalk. Never before had she beheld such a street, or such a house as they were about to enter! The street was narrow and dark, the house had a grey, poverty stricken look and was curiously forbidding. There were no people near save a few old women talking together.
Then Bettina secretly reproached herself for her own absurdity and false attitude.
Marguerite Arnot had explained that the old house where she had once lived and where her friends were still living, was in one of the humblest quarters in Paris. The girls were able to support themselves only in the poorest fashion by being apprenticed to French dressmakers.
Bettina Graham really had no sense of superiority because of her wealth and social position. Never for a moment did she forget that her own father had been an extremely poor boy who against every family disadvantage had worked his way to a distinguished position.
When she did finally reach the other girls, who were still talking to the concierge, she had still to fight an uncomfortable impression. Undoubtedly the concierge was a strange and unpleasant looking old woman. She was tall, with a dark, thin face, heavy eyebrows which were turning gray like her hair, and eyes with a peculiar searching expression.
Apparently she was pleased to see Marguerite Arnot again, as Marguerite had lived in her house until Miss Patricia Lord had insisted that she come to live with her at Versailles.
The next moment Bettina was the last of the small procession of four girls to mount the tenement stairs.
The stairs were dark and windowless, but Marguerite Arnot led the way without faltering. Finally she knocked at a door on the third floor.
The next instant the door being opened, the Camp Fire girls and Marguerite entered a large, bare room. Inside the room, and evidently expecting their arrival, were six young French girls, most of them younger than the American girls.
They were all dressed in black so that the effect upon first meeting them was depressing. But Marguerite had previously explained that the girls had been made orphans by the war.
They were living together in a single apartment in order to make a home for themselves with the least possible expense.
Two of them were sisters, the others were not relatives, but acquaintances and friends whom a common need had brought together.
Only a few months before, Marguerite Arnot had first made their acquaintance. At the time she had occupied a small room alone just across the hall and, as she was both ill and lonely, the entire number of girls had been wonderfully kind to her. It was therefore natural that Marguerite should at once think of these girls as forming the nucleus for one of the first Camp Fire units in Paris.
The room had evidently been hastily gotten ready for the visitors. Nearly all the shabby furniture, except a few chairs, had been pushed back into dark corners.
At once the American girls felt the room to be bitterly cold, colder than the outside as it had no sunshine. The French girls were evidently accustomed to the temperature. Never at any time are the houses of the French, even the wealthy homes, warm enough for American ideas, and during the war fuel in France had become an impossible luxury for the poor.
Marguerite Arnot immediately appreciated the situation. At present the open fireplace was filled only with odd pieces of old paper and cardboard.
Soon after she held a little whispered conversation with one of the youngest of the girls.
A moment after the girl disappeared to return a little later with a tiny bundle of sticks and a small pan of hot coals which she had secured from the concierge.
Therefore, it was actually Marguerite Arnot, who, kneeling down before the tiny grate, lighted the first Camp Fire among the French girls in Paris.
Having studied French all her life, gaining her first lessons from a French governess in her childhood, Bettina Graham spoke French fluently. Alice Ashton’s French had been largely acquired at school, nevertheless she had learned a fair amount of ordinary conversation after the last year’s residence in France.
With Vera Lagerloff the effort to talk freely in a foreign tongue would always remain difficult. But then she was not given to talking in her own tongue to the same extent as the other Camp Fire girls, always preferring to listen if it were possible.
Today she decided that her position as a silent onlooker might prove especially interesting.
Discovering that there were an insufficient number of chairs for them all to be seated, Bettina had introduced the subject of the Camp Fire by explaining their custom of seating themselves in a circle or semicircle upon Camp Fire cushions. Naturally, as they had no cushions at present, the floor would serve.
Bettina then lighted the three candles she had brought with her for the purpose explaining their meaning, Work, Health and Love. She also recited in French the Camp Fire desire.
It was Vera Lagerloff’s opinion that Bettina Graham possessed a greater gift at all times for explaining the purposes and ideals of the American Camp Fire organization than any one she had ever heard, except their own Camp Fire guardian.
This afternoon she appeared particularly interesting and enthusiastic.
In talking before a number of persons Bettina had an odd fashion of forgetting the shyness which so often overwhelmed her in meeting strangers.
How often Bettina and Vera, so different in temperament, in tastes and opportunities in life, in the last few years of membership in the same Camp Fire group, confided their secret ambitions to each other.
Vera was at present recalling Bettina’s confidence as she watched her explaining the American Camp Fire mission before the group of young French girls.
Disliking society Bettina had insisted that she never wished to marry or at any time to lead a society life. Instead she meant to find some cause which would be of especial importance to women, devoting her time and energy to it.
Why should this not be Bettina Graham’s future? It was the life of a few exceptional women, and Bettina might be one of them. The fact that she was his daughter and not his son need not prevent Bettina from inheriting her father’s gifts.
Vera was interested to observe the impression that Bettina was at this time making upon her small audience.
The French girls were unusual types in Vera’s knowledge. They must have ranged from about twelve to sixteen or seventeen years of age. But their faces were older than American girls of the same age. Their figures also looked more mature in their plain well fitted black dresses. Then, in spite of their poverty, they had the unmistakable French air and a style which was peculiarly their own.
But with their thin, sharply pointed faces, sallow complexions and dark hair, in Vera Lagerloff’s opinion, they were not a pretty collection of girls. The exceptions were Marguerite Arnot and a girl who seemed to feel an extraordinary attachment for her.
Since their entrance into the room, except for the few moments when she had disappeared in answer to a request from Marguerite and had returned with the material for the fire, she had not left Marguerite’s side.
At present she sat clutching the older girl’s skirt as if she never wished her to escape.
To the group of American girls with whom she was at present making her home, Marguerite Arnot represented both a novelty and an enigma. They knew little of her history, as she showed no desire to talk of herself, save the few facts Miss Patricia had seen fit to tell Mrs. Burton, with the idea that she repeat them.
Marguerite and Miss Patricia Lord had met originally in a dressmaking establishment in Paris. At that time Miss Patricia was having the costume made which she had worn at her dinner party and which had been such a revelation to her family. Marguerite, when about to try on Miss Patricia’s dress, became unexpectedly ill and fainted during the process; otherwise Miss Patricia might never have taken the slightest notice of her. She took Marguerite to her home and there, finding that she lived alone and had no one to care for her, the eccentric but kindly spinster assumed the responsibility. Later, Marguerite had been invited to Versailles as a working member of Miss Lord’s present household.
There was no question of the French girl’s refinement, or of the undoubted talent she possessed. But of her character, the hopes, ambitions and ideas which compose a human personality, the Camp Fire girls understood but little.
She had explained that her mother had been an artist and her father a lawyer in a smaller city not far from Paris. Her father died when she was only a tiny girl, leaving his family penniless, and her mother had attempted to make their living with her art.
But either artists were too numerous in Paris, or else her mother had possessed insufficient ability, for after a year or more of hopeless struggle, she had devoted her attention to dressmaking.
In this she had been successful; for nearly as long as Marguerite Arnot could remember, she had been able to assist her mother with her work, sitting by her side as a tiny girl she had pulled out bastings and hemmed simple seams. In spite of their poverty she and her mother had been happy together.
Then the war had come and they had been among its many unheeded victims. With almost no work, with the added strain and sorrow, Madame Arnot’s health had given way, so that in the second year of the war Marguerite had been left to struggle on alone.
What she had suffered through loneliness and poverty in these last two years, probably she did not like to discuss.
There were traces of struggle in the face which Vera Lagerloff was now studying, as she beheld it upturned toward Bettina, listening intently to Bettina’s speech.
Marguerite’s face was a pure oval, her eyes large and gray with heavily fringed dark lashes and her complexion so colorless at present that her lips seemed unusually red in comparison. The expression of her mouth was a little sad, although she seemed at the moment wholly absorbed either by Bettina Graham’s words or by her manner.
The younger girl, beside Marguerite, was thin and dark with brilliant black eyes set in a sharp almost too clever little face.
When she occasionally glanced toward Bettina, her manner was more resentful than admiring.
Yet when Bettina had finished speaking, it was Julie who asked the first question.
“Then if we start a Camp Fire group of our own, you will invite us to your house at Versailles where Marguerite Arnot is living?” she demanded so unexpectedly that Bettina, a little amused and a little surprised, could only reply:
“Why of course, I should be glad for you to come in any case, and I intended to ask Miss Lord or our Camp Fire guardian to invite you. But you must only organize a Camp Fire if the ideas which I have explained so inadequately in any way interest you.”
Bettina then turned to the older girls in the room. Nevertheless she had realized that Julie Dupont, in spite of her youth, was an undoubted force among them. Even as she had talked she had been able to observe the young girl’s sharp and not altogether pleasing personality.
The next moment Bettina added:
“I wonder if all of you can come out to our house at Versailles next Saturday afternoon, a week from today? I know you are only free on Saturday. Our Camp Fire guardian, Mrs. Burton, wishes very much to know you and will write you a more formal invitation. Miss Arnot, will you please persuade your friends to come.”
Fortunately the other girls required no urging, but if influence had been necessary, it was Julie Dupont, who was seldom without the resources to accomplish her own purpose.
In spite of Miss Patricia Lord’s many kindnesses, had one been spending this particular afternoon with her, as Sally Ashton had voluntarily chosen to do, she would not have appeared in a benevolent light.
Miss Patricia was fatigued, both from her excursion into town and from the excitement of the scene she had just beheld. She was also bent upon a disagreeable errand, having chosen this afternoon to find out why the supplies she had ordered from the United States months before to aid in the relief work in one of the devastated Aisne districts had not been heard from.
To more than one of the French officials, whom she interviewed, Miss Patricia openly declared that she believed her supplies had arrived, but were being purposely kept from her.
Unfortunately Sally Ashton had not inquired what Miss Patricia’s quest was to be upon this afternoon, when she had chosen her companionship in preference to the Camp Fire girls. It was one of a number of bonds between Sally and Miss Patricia that they seldom annoyed each other with questions. Since their retreat to Paris from their farmhouse, Sally considered that the other members of her present family had spent too much of their time and energy in unnecessary interrogation of her. It was useless to protest that there was no secret reason for the change which they persisted in discovering in her. Once before, under pressure of circumstances, she had kept her own counsel, hence the impression that she was probably doing the same thing a second time.
On this winter afternoon Sally at first followed Miss Patricia upon her warlike errand with patience and good humor.
Whenever it was possible they walked to their destinations, Miss Patricia both abhoring and fearing the reckless driving of the ordinary Parisian cabman.
At one or two places, in spite of her determination not to be drawn into Miss Patricia’s difficulties, Sally found herself obliged to explain to the clerks from just what grievance the irate American spinster was suffering. Miss Patricia delivered her harangues in English regardless of the fact that the French clerks were oftentimes unable to understand a word of what she was saying.
However, during one of these interviews, when Miss Patricia was expressing herself with especial violence and Sally vainly struggling to quiet her, they chanced upon an official who not only understood Miss Patricia’s language, but appreciated the essential goodness of the woman herself. After all Miss Patricia’s anger was due to the fact that she believed the French children and old people in her chosen district on the Aisne were suffering for just the supplies she had ordered for their relief. Her resentment was not occasioned by any personal discomfort.
The French official explained to Miss Patricia that if she would kindly drive to a freight office at some distance away and show her bill of lading, there was a possibility they could tell her whether or not her shipment from the United States had ever reached France.
On this excursion Sally positively declined to walk. Moreover, it was growing late and Miss Patricia was herself obliged to acknowledge that the distance was too great. They therefore secured a cab in which Miss Patricia agreed that she was willing to risk her own life, although reluctant to trust Sally’s.
Finally, after a little uncertainty on the part of their driver they reached the desired office.
Here, Miss Patricia found some one who appeared willing to listen, first to her complaints, and then to make the necessary effort to help her out of her difficulty.
But this effort, Sally Ashton soon discovered, was to require some time. She was now feeling a little exhausted, the air in the express office was heavy and filled with strange odors, the office which was near the Seine was in a crowded down-town section of the city.
Sally touched Miss Patricia on the arm.
“Aunt Patricia, I want to get out into the fresh air for a few moments. You won’t mind if I wait for you outside?”
And seeing that Sally looked pale and a trifle harassed, and also appreciating her former patience, Miss Patricia nodded, without ceasing her conversation with the French clerk.
The view beyond the office door was more entertaining than Sally had anticipated on their arrival. One had another outlook on the Seine. Barges and other large river boats, loaded with supplies, were moving slowly up or down. Queer people in odd picturesque costumes were standing here and there in little groups talking to each other in the animated Latin fashion.
Of course there were occasional soldiers; they were everywhere in Paris.
Within a few moments Sally became interested in several soldiers who were chatting with some French women. One of them, in a United States uniform, moved off alone, as if he had only stopped to ask a question.
He was coming in Sally’s direction.