CHAPTER XVII

An Unexpected Intrusion

One morning about two weeks later Bettina Graham entered her Camp Fire guardian’s small private sitting-room bearing a note in her hand.

The sitting-room adjoined Mrs. Burton’s bed-room and was at the front of the house on the second floor. Indeed the two rooms were the choice ones of the entire house so that Mrs. Burton had objected to Miss Patricia’s not occupying them herself. The house was hers and she was also the oldest member of the household.

However, Miss Patricia had at once protested that not only were the rooms not particularly desirable, but that they were too cluttered with artistic paraphernalia for her to endure living in them. She had then established herself in a severely plain bed-room on the third floor, after having a great part of the furniture which the room had previously contained removed to other bed-rooms.

Knowing that Miss Patricia would probably not have been comfortable amid her present surroundings, afterwards Mrs. Burton allowed herself the privilege of thoroughly enjoying them.

The two rooms evidently had been designed for a woman of luxurious and exquisite taste. The walls of both rooms were of a delicate robin’s egg blue with panelings of French oak. The furniture was of French oak upholstered in the same shade of blue tapestry and the curtains were of heavy, blue satin damask.

Mrs. Burton was curled up in a large blue chair, writing a letter upon a portfolio which she balanced shakily in her lap.

“I was afraid you might be Aunt Patricia, Bettina. She would undoubtedly reproach me for writing a letter on my lap instead of upon that ornate desk in the corner so plainly intended for the purpose. Don’t tell on me, I know it is reprehensible, but I have always hated doing the right things in the right places at the right time.

“My husband is unhappily aware of this trait of my character. I am writing him now. He joins us in a short time and I expect to go to England with him on a government mission before we sail for home. We may be in England for months. I wonder if you Camp Fire girls would like to spend the summer with us? Aunt Patricia will soon return to the devastated French country to continue the reclamation work there. Her whole thought is absorbed in it, and I believe Vera Lagerloff and Alice Ashton wish to return with her.

“But pardon my talking at such length, Bettina. Was there not something you specially wished to say to me?”

Mrs. Burton straightened herself in her chair trying to appear in a slightly more dignified attitude, and quite unconscious of the small spot of ink which decorated one of her cheeks.

She was also wearing a faded blue cotton morning dress, which she had formerly worn at the farmhouse on the Aisne, which was entirely unsuited to her present surroundings. But she had dressed in a hurry and had forgotten to change her costume.

Bettina smiled.

“It is all right, Tante, I won’t tell, only let me take care of your portfolio while I talk to you and please don’t allow Aunt Patricia to see you in your present toilet. She is too funny! She used to be so extremely severe in the past over any expression of frivolity, either on your part or on ours. Now she seems to wish us to keep perfectly dressed all the time, so as to be in harmony with this lovely house I suppose! Besides, you know she insists that since your maid, Marie, left you finally to marry Mr. Jefferson Simpson, after having refused to consider him in their early acquaintance in the west, that you are unable properly to take care of yourself. This is an unfortunate reputation for a Camp Fire guardian! I won’t keep you a moment; I only want you to read this note from Mr. Hale. He has written to say that he has written for permission for us to visit the Queen’s little secret garden a second time and this time will you please come with us? You will, won’t you, Tante? I want to see the garden again and I would not wish to go alone with Mr. Hale and would rather have you with us than one of the Camp Fire girls.”

Before replying Mrs. Burton looked at Bettina searchingly. Bettina was older than the other Camp Fire girls, not so much in years as in certain phases of character, although in others she was peculiarly candid and childlike.

Ever since their original meeting David Hale had been a frequent guest at Miss Patricia’s home and although on extremely friendly terms with the entire group of American Camp Fire girls, it had seemed to Mrs. Burton that he appeared to have an especial liking for Bettina. Yet Mrs. Burton could not be sure; of late she had observed him talking to Marguerite Arnot as frequently as to Bettina.

At present there was nothing in Bettina’s expression in the least self conscious or confused.

“Why don’t you answer, Tante? Would you rather not join us? I think it will be worth while. The little garden has haunted me, even after seeing it on a winter day, with the promise of what it might be in the springtime!”

Mrs. Burton gave a tiny, impatient shake to her shoulders.

“Why of course, Bettina, I want to go with you; haven’t I answered you? I am really anxious to see the little secret garden and would have been envious of you had you gone without me. Put down Mr. Hale’s note, I will read it later. I must have Captain Burton’s letter ready for the next post.”

And Bettina departed, having placed her letter, which she had taken out of its envelope and left half open upon Mrs. Burton’s table in the center of her sitting-room.

After she had gone, Mrs. Burton finished her own letter, then dressed and went downstairs for a walk. She did not regard the reading of Bettina’s note from Mr. Hale as of immediate importance, as she already knew its contents.

Five minutes after Mrs. Burton’s departure, some one else knocked at her door. When there was no reply from the inside it was slowly opened. This was not an intrusion; the young French girl, Julie Dupont, had been told to leave Mrs. Burton’s gown in her room, even if she were not there to receive it.

These instructions had been given Julie by Marguerite Arnot, who had been altering a costume which Mrs. Burton had said she wished to wear later in the day.

Therefore, there was no objection to Julie’s entering the sitting-room, or having entered it, to stand quietly in the room and study it in detail.

By a chance the little French girl, who was the latest addition to Miss Patricia Lord’s household, had never been in Mrs. Burton’s room before. Now its luxury and typically French appearance, fascinated her. It was true that Julie had seen such rooms before; she had not been apprenticed to a fashionable dressmaker without having been sent on errands which had taken her to French homes of nearly the same character as Miss Lord’s present temporary one. But Julie was too intensely French herself to find their fascination grow less.

At present she appreciated details in the furnishings of the sitting-room as no one of the American Camp Fire girls could have appreciated them. As Julie’s eyes swept from the beautifully shaded blue walls to examine each separate article of furniture, her eyes rested upon the note to Bettina in David Hale’s handwriting. She recognized the writing. He had recently loaned Marguerite Arnot books in which he had written his own name and a few lines as well.

Julie was able to read only a very little English which she had acquired at school.

Nevertheless, she at once picked up the letter, with an expression of eager curiosity.

To her surprise she first discovered Bettina’s name. She had not anticipated this, presuming the note had been written to Mrs. Burton. Instantly she became more interested.

The note was also written in French and not English.

Julie devoted no time to puzzling over this fact. However, the explanation was simple, Bettina and David Hale had been studying French together and therefore David had written in French.

At first Julie read the note idly, but with no compunction, and without even glancing toward Mrs. Burton’s door as if she were fearful of interruption. She really scarcely appeared to appreciate the fact that one did not read a note addressed to another person without that person’s consent. Later she grew more absorbed.

But to understand the young girl’s apparent lack of principle, one needs to know something of her history and also of the state of mind which her stay in Miss Patricia Lord’s household had engendered.

Julie’s mother had died when she was a baby; after a careless fashion she had been brought up by her father, who was a Bohemian and ne’er-do-well. Never for any length of time had her father worked long at any task, or Julie been sure of sufficient food. But always she had shared her father’s confidence and a certain shallow affection and had never criticized or reproached him. Indeed, he was the only person for whom she had ever cared until after her father’s death when she had first learned to know Marguerite Arnot.

When war was declared, Robert Dupont, Julie’s father, had gone off to fight and had been killed in so gallant a manner at Verdun, that one must forgive his weaknesses.

Yet can one ever escape the consequence of weakness? Julie had been left behind, without training, without a natural sense of honor, to repeat his mistakes, unless some one would help her to a new ideal of life. So far there had been no such influence for good in the young French girl’s life.

Marguerite Arnot, Julie cared for devotedly, nevertheless, although this may not have appeared upon the surface, of the two girls Julie Dupont possessed the stronger nature.

Meeting by chance in the tiny hall between their two apartments in the old house in Paris, it was Julie who had first made the advances. It was Julie who had done more for Marguerite’s happiness and comfort than the older girl had done for her. Instinctively Julie had recognized that while Marguerite was beautiful and gentle, she was not strong and needed some one to care for her. And Julie had always cared for her father; after his death her strong, clever, but misguided nature had really required some one upon whom she could lavish her affection.

In her friendship with Marguerite Arnot, Julie’s dreams of the future, absurd and fanciful as dreams often are, were always for Marguerite’s future and not for her own. Believing Marguerite beautiful and charming enough for the most fortunate experience, and yet without the ability to fight for herself, Julie had come to regard herself in the light of Marguerite’s fairy godmother. As soon as possible she must manage to rescue her from the hardships of her present life. Marguerite was nineteen and sufficiently old for a change in her fortune. Yet Julie’s romantic promptings toward arranging for her friend’s future were of the vaguest character, until her visit in Miss Patricia’s home and her meeting with David Hale.

She had not dared speak of her dream openly to any one, least of all to Marguerite Arnot. Yet daily as she sat at her sewing Julie had entertained herself with the thought of Marguerite and David Hale learning to care for each other and the happy future they might spend together.

There had been no foundation for her fancy beyond the fact that David had seemed interested to talk to Marguerite and had admired her beauty and gentle manners. However, Julie knew nothing of the frank and friendly attitude which is a matter of course between young people in the United States. Her only annoyance was, that David Hale appeared equally interested in Bettina Graham.

After reading Bettina’s note, instantly Julie decided that Bettina and David Hale must not visit the Queen’s garden unless Marguerite Arnot accompanied them. The fact that Marguerite had not been invited might have appeared as an obstacle to most persons, but not to Julie.

Her plan was conceived at once undeterred by the necessity for falsehood. She would go and tell Marguerite Arnot that Bettina and David Hale desired her to join them for the afternoon’s expedition to the Queen’s secret garden at Versailles.

Julie Arnot was a student of human nature. Discovering that Marguerite believed herself to have been invited and was eager for the pleasure, neither Bettina nor David would be sufficiently unkind to reveal the truth.