CHAPTER XIV--A Sudden Summons

Though Billy Webster had brought with him from the village half a dozen letters and as many papers, no one of the dwellers in Sunrise cabin was able to read anything for three or four hours after his arrival.

For Betty and Mollie were having an informal luncheon. But indeed, ever since taking up their abode at the cabin several weeks before, they had never passed a single day without guests. For it was too much like old times for their Woodford friends to find the door of the little house once more hospitably open, with a log fire burning in the big fire place in the living room and the movement and laughter of girls inside the old cabin and out.

At present there were only the four of them living there together with the Ashton's old Irish cook, Ann, as their guardian, chaperon and first aid in domestic difficulties. Later on, there would be other members of the Sunrise Hill club, who were already looking forward to spending their holidays at the cabin.

As a matter of course, Billy Webster was at present their most frequent visitor, although his calls were ordinarily short. Almost every morning he used to ride up to the cabin on horseback to see if things had gone well with his friends during the night, or to ask if there were any errands in the village which he could do or have done for them. For you may remember that the land on which the cabin stood had been bought from Billy's father and was not far from their farm. Billy now seemed to be the only one of their former boy friends who was able to come often to the old cabin.

John Everett was at work in the broker's office in New York City, Frank Wharton had only just returned from his honeymoon journey with Eleanor Meade, and Anthony Graham was attending a session of the New Hampshire Legislature and probably spending his week ends in visits to Meg Everett. There were other men friends, assuredly, who appeared at the cabin now and then, but they had fewer associations with the past.

Betty was looking forward to John Everett's coming a little later; but she had begged him to wait until they were more comfortably settled and the two younger girls had grown accustomed to their new surroundings.

Today Rose Barton and Faith had driven out to the cabin for luncheon and Mrs. Crippen, Betty's step-mother with the new small step-brother, who was an adorable red-haired baby with the pinkest of cheeks and the bluest eyes in the world. Then, soon after lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Wharton appeared in their up-to-date motor car, which had been Frank's wedding gift from his father.

So it was a simple enough matter to understand why neither Betty nor Mollie had the opportunity even to glance inside the envelopes of their letters, though Mollie recognized that she had received one from her mother and Betty saw that Mrs. Wharton had also written to her. There was nothing unusual in this, for Betty and Mrs. Wharton had always remained intimate and devoted friends, just as they had been since Betty was a tiny girl and Mrs. Wharton, as Mrs. O'Neill, lived across the street from the big Ashton house.

Certainly for the time being the two hostesses had their attention fully distracted by their social responsibilities. For Mollie had direct charge of the luncheon party, while to Betty had fallen the duty of seeing that their friends learned to understand one another and to have a gay time.

It was a pleasure for her to observe what an interest Faith Barton had immediately seemed to feel in her little French girl. For one could only think of Angelique as a child, she was so tiny and fragile with all her delicate body hidden from view save her quaint, vivid face and slender arms.

Faith herself had been a curious child, and though now so nearly grown, was not in the least like an every-day person. She was extremely pretty, suggesting a fair young saint in an old Italian picture; and still she loved dreams better than realities and books more than people. Ordinarily she was very shy; yet here in Angelique, Faith believed that she had probably found the friend of her heart. The French girl seemed romance personified, and delicately and gently she set out to woo her. But Angel was not easy to win, she was still cold and frightened with all persons except her fairy princess. Nevertheless, Betty sincerely hoped that the two girls might eventually learn to care truly for each other.

They were so different in appearance that it was an artistic pleasure to see them together. Faith was so soft and fair; Angel so dark and with such possibilities of restrained vivacity and passion. Then the older girl knew so little of real life, while the younger one had already touched its sorrows too deeply.

After all, it was really Faith's sudden attachment that kept the guests at the cabin longer than they had intended to remain.

At four o'clock, fearing the excitement too much for her protege, Betty had persuaded the girl to retire to bed. Faith had at once insisted on having tea alone in the room with Angel so that they might have a chance for a really intimate conversation. It was Faith, however, who did all the talking, nor did she even have the satisfaction of knowing that her new acquaintance had enjoyed her. Certainly the French girl was going to be difficult; yet perhaps to a romantic nature mystery is the greatest attraction.

Actually it was almost six o'clock when the last visitor had finally departed from Sunrise cabin and Mollie and Betty had a few quiet moments together. It had been a beautiful day and now when the sun was sinking behind the hill, spreading its radiance over the world, the two friends stepped outside the cabin door for a short breathing spell.

Betty had completely forgotten her unopened letters; she was thinking of something entirely different, and her gray eyes were not free from a certain wistfulness as she looked around the familiar landscape. All day long, although she had done her best at concealment, she had felt vaguely restless and unhappy. There had been no definite reason, except, perhaps, the pathetic story confided to her earlier in the day.

Suddenly Mollie O'Neill turned toward her friend, at the same instant drawing two letters from her pocket.

"I declare, Betty dear, I have not had a single moment of leisure all day, not even time to read mother's letter. Have you? I do hope she had nothing of special importance to say. I thought she might possibly come and see us for a while this afternoon."

Seeing Mollie open Mrs. Wharton's note and beginning to read it, Betty immediately followed her example. But the moment after both girls turned their eyes from studying the sheets of paper before them to stare curiously at each other.

"How very extraordinary and how very unlike mother!" exclaimed Mollie O'Neill in a puzzled fashion.

"Surely she must know that it is quite out of the question for us to do what she asks," Betty went on, as if continuing her friend's sentence. "She understands that we have just come to the cabin and that we have promised to take the best kind of care of Angel and Cricket with Dr. Barton's assistance. Of course, Mollie, you may have to do what your mother says, but do please make her understand that it is impossible for me. I wish she was not so insistent, though, it makes it dreadfully difficult to refuse. Does your letter say that you must leave for New York City as early as possible tomorrow and join your mother at the Astor Hotel?"

Mollie nodded, still frowning. "If mother wished us to go to New York with her on business, or pleasure, or for whatever reason, I cannot see why she did not wait and let us all go together tomorrow. I simply can't see why she should rush off this morning as her letter says and leave us to follow the next day. But I suppose if you can get some one to stay on here at the cabin with you, dear, that I must do as mother asks. You see, she writes that it is a matter of great importance that has called her away and that she is relying on my being with her."

Reading her own letter for the second time, Betty folded it thoughtfully and replaced it inside the envelope. "Of course you must go, Mollie, without a shadow of a doubt," she answered positively. "Rose and Faith will come out here and stay for a few days and Dr. Barton will be with them at night. I shall be rather glad to have them know Angel better; it might help her in a good many ways. The thing that troubles me is whether I ought to go with you. You see your mother also writes that she is relying on having me with her as well. Though she does not give me her reason, still she is very positive. She says that my coming to New York at the present time will mean a great deal to me personally, and moreover she particularly desires me to be with you." Betty slowly shook her head. "I don't see exactly how I can refuse; do you, Mollie? I don't believe your mother has ever been really angry with me in my life and I should so hate her to be now. Besides I think it would be rather fun to go, and of course Rose would look after things for a few days."

"Then it is decided?" and Mollie breathed a sigh of mingled relief and pleasure. "Well, I must go in at once and telephone Billy and ask him to look up time-tables and things. Mother has sent me a check big enough to pay our expenses if you do not happen to have the money at the cabin with you."

All the hours following that evening and in the early morning were too busy with preparations and explanations to allow of much conjecture; yet in the back of their minds both girls were trying to work out the same problem.

What conceivable thing could have happened to make Mrs. Wharton summon them to New York in this odd fashion? Could it have anything to do with Polly? But if Polly had been taken suddenly ill, would Mrs. Wharton not have given them some slight warning, some preparation for the shock that might lie ahead of them? Yet it was idle to make vain guesses or to worry without cause. In a short while Mrs. Wharton would, of course, explain the whole situation.

As passengers on the earliest afternoon train that left Woodford for New York City next day, Mollie and Betty had already forgotten their first opposition to this journey to New York. All at once it appeared like a very delightful and natural excursion. If Mrs. Wharton had occasion to spend several days in New York what more agreeable than spending the time with her? There would be the shops and theaters to visit and a glimpse at the new spring fashions. Moreover, Betty did not altogether object to the idea of possibly seeing John Everett. They were old friends and his open admiration and attention meant a great deal to her.