CHAPTER XIV

Facing the Music

Early the next morning Ralph Marshall walked over to the Sunrise Camp.

Without any comment or explanation Howard Brent had delivered, at the breakfast table an hour before, the message entrusted to him.

Except for a slight headache Ralph had entirely recovered from his injury, but he was fearful that Peggy had suffered more than she had confessed and, added to the fact that she had sent for him, was his own desire to know how she was.

For the time being the unfortunate conversation he had held with Terry Benton had entirely passed out of Ralph’s mind. He did think of it occasionally and he was ashamed of it. If Terry had ever reopened the subject, Ralph intended cutting him short by saying that the discussion had been a mistake, and that he had made a fool of himself. But, as Terry did not speak, Ralph had preferred to let the affair drop, not having sufficient courage to plunge boldly into the revival of what he wished to forget.

This morning he was really only interested in finding out that Peggy was all right, and he was deeply and profoundly grateful to her. It seemed almost impossible that any girl could have shown so much nerve and strength. If, in times past, he had liked girls better who were less athletic, whose muscles were less hard, who were altogether more “feminine” according to his preconceived ideas, Ralph had humor enough to realize that his ideal should have changed since the day before.

Peggy Webster had rested and was busy with her share of the morning Camp Fire work when Ralph came into camp. Her greeting of him was entirely cordial and friendly. There was nothing in her manner which might indicate any difference in her attitude from the evening before. She was interested to know that he had slept soundly and that his head was not troubling him. He had seen the hotel doctor who had advised him to pay no further attention to a slight wound which would quickly heal of itself.

It was also Peggy who proposed that they take a walk together after she had finished her tasks. Half an hour later they started off in apparently perfect accord.

Peggy had insisted, both to her mother and aunt, as well as to Ralph Marshall, that she had almost forgotten any discomfort she may have suffered the previous evening and was certainly not too tired for a walk. Indeed, she believed that, getting away from camp and so much talk of a disaster that had almost happened, would be good for her.

Therefore, Ralph Marshall was naturally unprepared for what inevitably followed.

It was not that Peggy was acting to deceive him or any one else. She had almost tragically little ability for playing any part that was not essentially straightforward and truthful. But, after she had gone to bed, in thinking over what Howard Brent had told her, Peggy had become more convinced than ever that he had in some way made a mistake. She simply did not believe that Ralph Marshall could have made a wager in regard to winning her friendship. Whatever weaknesses of character he might possess, he had always been well bred.

Perhaps Peggy had old-fashioned ideas. There was a kind of simplicity about her which made her seem younger than she actually was. But she had gotten some of these ideas from her father, who had the old-time courtesy and respect for women, in spite of the fact that he belonged to the new generation. Peggy knew that he felt a man should never talk of a woman with other men in any way that would reflect upon her, however little he might respect or like the woman.

Just for a moment it flashed through Peggy’s mind to reflect how angry her father would be, if he ever learned that two young men had actually made a bet concerning her—and one through which her dignity and self-respect must suffer. Then she put the thought away from her as unworthy of consideration.

During the first part of their walk, Peggy made no reference to the reason she had had for having asked Ralph to come over to see her so soon after their farewell the evening before. Indeed, she had almost forgotten the reason herself, although always the consciousness of it was lurking at the back of her brain.

But she and Ralph enjoyed walking together. There never was a lovelier place than among these tall pine forests with the trails cut between the trees, and leading into unexpected and open vistas.

Ralph had a charming voice and, when he and Peggy were walking in single file and not talking, he sang for her amusement. He seemed to have been to every light opera that had been produced in the last five years, and knew at least one or two songs from each of them. As Peggy lived in the country and had heard but few, she was greatly entertained.

It was Ralph who finally suggested that they rest.

But it was Peggy who chose the somewhat extraordinary place.

There was a particularly large pine tree at the edge of an open space. It had long branches which swung out, like comfortable hammocks, not far above the ground.

Peggy climbed into one of them and sat with her feet curled up under her in an odd fashion, with her back resting against the trunk of the tree.

Ralph sat nearer the end so that his weight bore the branch down almost to the ground.

“Peggy, you look like a tree nymph, or an elf, or whatever wood spirit is supposed to inhabit a tree. I am not well up on tree-ology, or anything else,” Ralph said good humoredly. “But you are so dark and your eyes and hair and skin are so brown. Besides somehow you have an altogether, outdoor look about you.”

Peggy laughed. “Do you mean that for a compliment, Ralph? Because, of course, I understand that translated your speech simply means I am tanned until I look like an Indian, or something else not completely civilised.”

Then Peggy’s expression changed and she actually flushed scarlet.

“There is something I want to ask you, Ralph, though now that I have the chance I had much rather not. You see, I realize that it isn’t true, but I owe it to you to be able to tell Howard Brent so. You didn’t make a bet with Terry Benton about me, did you? You didn’t say you would win my friendship by being attentive to me, just for the sake of a wager? My friendship really isn’t valuable enough, and in any case you could have had it without taking that much trouble.”

Because Ralph did not answer at once, Peggy bent over toward him from her higher place.

“I’m sorry, Ralph; naturally you are angry with me; but I didn’t believe the story for a minute.”

Ralph returned the girl’s look steadily. The expression of his face had never been stronger. His old expression of laughing good nature and plastic content with himself and circumstances at least temporarily disappeared.

“It is true though, Peggy,” he answered, “although I would give a good deal to be able to tell you it was not.”

In spite of his reply, Peggy continued to look puzzled.

“But I can’t understand any reason,” she protested.

Ralph shook his head. “Of course you can’t, and there isn’t any. In an idiotic moment I simply said a very stupid thing to Terry Benton without realizing just how ugly and ill-mannered it was. Ever since I have been trying my best to forget I ever said it. You are the one person in the world whom I would rather not have brought into such a discussion, and to find that out is a part of my punishment. I wonder if you can believe, Peggy, how sorry and ashamed I am, and have been ever since I made a foolish wager which I regretted the moment after I had gotten into it. You are such a clean, straightforward person, Peggy, I don’t suppose you can even imagine how a human being can do an ugly thing and yet not be altogether horrid.”

Ralph was talking like a boy, forgetting that he was a number of years older than his companion.

But Peggy’s eyes had changed their expression and were no longer puzzled.

“I might, be willing to accept your point of view, Ralph, if, after you had made the wager in which I was to be a victim to your vanity, you had paid no attention to me. But I can’t forget that it was afterwards you began being agreeable to me, asking me to take walks and to dance with you. If you did not care about winning your wager, why did you not continue to politely ignore me, as you had always done? Well you were successful enough, because I did like you very much until now.”

Peggy’s cheeks were scarlet and yet she could be nothing but truthful.

“I have a dreadful temper and I am so angry with you now, I feel as if I never wish to see or speak to you again. Please let me go back to camp alone.”

Ralph shook his head.

“No, I won’t do that,” he answered quietly, “but I will not trouble you along the way—not even by asking your forgiveness. Some day, perhaps, I may be able to prove to you how truly sorry I am. Now I can’t even pretend that I have any more right to your friendship.”