Chapter V: Part 5

Polly Burton held out her hand in the simple, friendly fashion characteristic of her. As the young fellow took it and held it for an instant she saw in his face the beauty and honor of a sincere and ardent admiration, not for her as a woman, but as an artist.

"Thank you," he returned, "I do understand and I have not the least right to trouble you. You have been too kind in the past. The road is hard because I have my living to make and cannot afford to work and wait as one should. I only trust I have the courage to hold out."

Waiting for Mrs. Burton to move away, his eyes never left her, consciously studying the slender, graceful figure, the small head with its mass of dark hair and the brilliant blue eyes, the mark of her Irish inheritance, yet of less interest than the long, too thin face, with the pointed chin and the irregular, deeply colored lips.

"Have you a name for your play? The title is so important. I hated the title of mine last winter, in spite of its Shakespearean significance it was too difficult to say, 'A Tide in the Affairs'."

"Yes, I think I have. Only the other night Miss Gilchrist, Gill, gave it to me by accident while we waited for the coming of morning by our Camp Fire. She spoke of flame as 'The Red Flower'. Do you like it, 'The Red Flower', as a title?"

Mrs. Burton uttered a little exclamation.

"Yes, I do, immensely. See here, Allan, would you like to compromise with me and allow me to read your play to myself. If I like it I shall tell you so; if I don't I shall say nothing, so as not to influence you. In any case I should prefer not having you read it aloud. Most persons read so poorly and if they don't, it is more confusing. I can get my own impression much better if I am alone and it is under my own eyes."

Allan gripped the mahogany post of the balustrade until the veins stood up on his hands.

"You mean you really will read it? Of course I should rather you would read it to yourself. I should be sure to make a wreck of it. Yet I ought not to be such a nuisance, and please don't think I expect you to say anything good of it."

Again Mrs. Burton laughed.

"Look here, Allan, I know the artistic temperament too well to be deceived by you. You don't mind being a nuisance one bit if you can have your own way, no one of us artists minds. And, my dear boy, of course you expect me to say your play is good; if you did not, you would never allow me to look at it. You expect this one moment and the next you are in utter despair because you are convinced it is the poorest play ever written or conceived.

"I'll do my best for you, only you must not worry if I am rather a time getting at it. I must rest and forget the theater for a little longer."

"I shall wait forever, if you desire and be everlastingly grateful always," Allan said so fervently that Polly Burton, recalling her own youth had an emotion of sympathy and determined not to keep him waiting for her judgment for any great length of time.

Bettina's sitting-room door was open and the moment after she went in and stood looking about the room.

Youth was always hard to understand, even if it understood itself, which it never does.

Here was Bettina's little apartment as exquisite as any girl could dream of, or desire. The rugs were of a wonderful blue, the color she loved best, the walls more lightly colored, the furniture not the massive mahogany of most old southern houses, but of an English design, the famous Chippendale. Outside her windows Bettina had a view of the blue lagoon and the wider bay beyond. Yet she preferred to leave all this beauty and luxury and spend her life in the slums.

"Well, life is only an expression of human personality, and if Bettina is in earnest, she has the right to do what she wishes," Mrs. Burton thought, as she picked up one of the prints Bettina had asked her to examine.

As she stood holding it in her hand she heard Alice Ashton and Vera Lagerloff talking together in the adjoining room with the door between partly open.

"Don't you think, Vera, that one or the other of us should go at once to Aunt Patricia? I know she said neither of us was to come, but that does not alter our responsibility. She must need some one."

Mrs. Burton put down the picture she scarcely had seen and took a step forward, then paused.

"It is so impossible to think of Aunt Patricia as poor, isn't it? Ever since we have known her she has been lavishing her wealth in every direction, upon every one except herself. It is like her now to declare that she has paid the rent of our little New York apartment for a year and that we are not to think of making any changes before then. Don't you suppose we can persuade her to come and live with us for the present at least until she decides what she wishes to do permanently?" Vera suggested.

"Yes, but Aunt Patricia insists she is going to find work, that at last she is glad she never has had a gray hair. She seems really not to be so unhappy over the situation as we are for her. Her only fear apparently is that we shall take Tante into our confidence concerning her. And frankly this makes me uncomfortable! I think Tante should be told. But I shall leave you to talk the matter over with Aunt Betty. I am going to Boston in the morning. I shall see father and mother and ask them to go with me to Aunt Patricia's house, it is just outside of town. Then we can face the situation together."

"An excellent idea, Alice, but I shall go in your place. I have just overheard what you and Vera were saying. As you were speaking of Aunt Patricia and I think it my right to know of her, notwithstanding her attitude toward me, I made no effort not to hear.

"Now, please tell me in detail so far as you know what has occurred."

An instant Alice Ashton hesitated, but there was something in her Camp Fire guardian's manner and expression that commanded obedience. Very seldom in her life had she assumed this attitude, when she did, no one dreamed of opposing her.

"Why, yes, Tante, I'll tell you and am very glad to be relieved of the responsibility. This morning unexpectedly Vera and I received a long letter from Aunt Patricia. We had not heard in several weeks. In the letter she explains that she had been intending to write for some time, but was waiting until she understood more definitely what condition her affairs were in. She stated that she had known for some time that she had been spending too much money and had drawn upon her capital, as well as using her entire income. Her lawyer has told her several times that she must retrench, but being Aunt Patricia she had paid no attention to him. Well, the climax came when Aunt Patricia learned that the home she is erecting for war orphans in France is to cost double what she had expected it would cost. The fault has been chiefly her own; she has been adding all kinds of things, playgrounds and an outdoor school and a specially fitted-up hospital for the children in a separate building. You may know more than I do about it.

"When she went to her lawyers with the information that she required twice the sum she originally told them to raise, they declared this could not be accomplished without leaving her virtually penniless. She too had been buying oil stock like the rest of the world, hoping to gain more money for her orphans and the stock had turned out to be worthless.

"Aunt Patricia does not seem to care a great deal. She announces that she has secured the necessary money for her war orphans and the building will be completed with all the recent improvements. She apologizes because she will not have the money to allow Vera and me continue our college course when this year is over. Neither will she be able to keep up her place in Boston, but this is incidental."

"Oh, that will make no special difference to Aunt Patricia, as she never has been fond of the place. It was her brother's home and they were very different characters. She will live with me in the future."

Observing Vera and Alice exchange a glance, Mrs. Burton smiled.

"You don't believe she will consent to this, do you, considering the fact that she has declined to speak to me for nearly a year? Nevertheless I assure you she will. It is not worth while for you to accompany me, Alice; I prefer to go to Boston alone. I shall bring Aunt Patricia here until we make our summer plans. I must find Mrs. Graham now and learn whether Aunt Patricia has written her. Good-by."

A moment later the two friends met face to face.

"I have been looking for you in your own room, Polly. Come into my room, won't you? I have just received a surprising letter from Aunt Patricia in which she insists I am not to confide her misfortune to you. This is nonsense, when you are the one person in the world who can give her the affection and help she requires. I don't believe Aunt Patricia will care particularly for the loss of her fortune if the loss restores you to her."

"Thank you, Betty, dear, you need feel no anxiety. Now that I may be able to do something for Aunt Patricia, and not accept everything from her, I have not the least idea of permitting her to behave in her old, obstinate, absurd fashion. Thank goodness, we shall be friends soon again; no one dreams how much I have missed her during this past winter!"

"You don't think Aunt Patricia will refuse to see you?"

Polly Burton shook her head.

"I don't care in the least if she does refuse at first. There are occasions, Betty, dear, when you know I can be as obstinate a woman as Aunt Patricia Lord. I shall be away about five days. You will let me bring her back with me?"

*CHAPTER XVI*

*THE DISAPPEARANCE*

"Juliet Temple has not returned, Sally. Mother feels uneasy and told me to ask if you knew anything of her plans. We feel especially responsible now that Tante is away, as she made it a point that we were to look after Juliet while she was gone and see that she was not lonely."

"Why, what has happened, Bettina?" Sally inquired serenely. "I am sure you have been more than attentive for the past few days."

The long twilights were beginning and with dinner over, Sally and Dan were sitting in the hammock under the linden trees, one of Sally's favorite resorts.

The other members of the house party were in the garden, where already a few tiny spears were appearing from seeds planted but a brief time ago, so swift had been the arrival of the heat that of late there had been days more like summer than spring.

"Well, perhaps Juliet was so bored with my society that she has preferred to run away. She told mother this morning that she wished to go to the mainland on the early boat and would be away all day. Mother made a point of making her promise to return in the afternoon. But now the last boat has come and gone and there is no chance of her reaching the island until to-morrow, unless some friend brings her across, which does not seem probable. We might go over in the motor launch and search for her, but discovering her would be another matter."

"Didn't Juliet intend to spend the night away from the island?" Sally inquired. "Otherwise why did she take her suit case? I saw her starting off with it."

"She wished to bring back her purchases and said she thought this would be the simplest method of carrying them. I declare I don't know what we ought to do. I would not for a great deal have Juliet in any difficulty; the very fact that Tante thinks we do not like her would make me more uncomfortable if matters have gone wrong."

"Is there anything I can do to be useful?" Dan asked. "Tell Aunt Betty that of course I am at her service."

There was in Dan's manner a constraint that puzzled Bettina, while Sally continued to rock idly to and fro, Dan having risen on Bettina's arrival.

"You seem remarkably uninterested, Sally," she declared with unusual irritability, since ordinarily Bettina possessed a fine self-control.

"Sorry," Sally answered calmly, "but you see, my dear, I have a conviction that Juliet Temple is well able to take care of herself. Suppose we walk to the house, so that Dan may ask Aunt Betty if she wishes him to do anything in the matter.

"You and I might go up to Juliet's room and investigate. Endeavor to discover if she has taken any of her belongings which might give one the idea that she planned to be away over night."

"Oh, very well, Sally, although it seems unnecessary. If Juliet wished to remain away who would or could have objected, so what possible reason for secrecy? Being a determined person, however, perhaps I had best do as you say.

"Dan, you will find mother in the drawing-room. Ask her to take no steps until Sally and I report any discovery we may make. Has it ever occurred to you that Sally is under the impression she has a gift for detective work?"

Her speech was a perfectly idle one so Bettina was puzzled to observe Sally blush uncomfortably and lower her eyes, while Dan said "No" in an annoyed tone.

Ten minutes after, the two girls were standing facing each other in Juliet Temple's room, which adjoined Mrs. Burton's larger one.

"Really, Sally dear, I do not like to peer into Juliet's private closet or bureau drawers. Would you mind looking first, since after all I am her hostess and you are not."

Sally smiled the demure smile with which she covered a number of situations.

"So, Bettina, you wish me to do something you have an aversion to doing yourself? Never mind, I don't particularly object and you do. Besides, the suggestion originated with me and if I am right or wrong, I shall summon the courage to confess to Juliet, although I shall not enjoy it. I shall tell her that Aunt Betty was uneasy and we thought perhaps she had arranged to spend the night with friends and used this method to find out."

So saying, Sally drew forth the top drawer of the mahogany chest of drawers, then a second and a third drawer; each and every one was entirely empty.

Without comment the two girls walked across the room and together unfastened the closet door; not a dress or garment of any kind hung inside.

"Sally, Juliet does not intend to return! _Why_, I don't understand, we have done our best to be courteous and she might at least have said good-by. I presume she has gone to Tante's New York apartment. Do you think we should telegraph and say she is no longer here."

Sally shook her head.

"Not for the present, but of course we must tell Aunt Betty and Dan and learn their opinion. Wait another moment, please."

Returning to the empty drawers, Sally began searching diligently underneath the neatly folded papers lining each one. Finally she removed them.

"I thought it barely possible Juliet might have left a note for Tante. She understands that she is to return in another thirty-six hours and probably would wish to explain to her."

"Here is a letter, Sally, addressed to Mrs. Richard Burton and sealed with sealing wax!" Bettina exclaimed, having answered Sally's suggestion by entering the adjoining room and slipping her hand under one of the pillows of Mrs. Burton's bed.

"I presume this letter does inform Tante why Juliet found existence with the Camp Fire girls by the blue lagoon so disagreeable that she could not endure the experience during the week of her absence. Well, I am just as glad we discovered the letter and grateful to you, Sally, for the idea. I never have pretended that you do not understand human nature better than the rest of us, although no one would guess the fact except through long acquaintance with you. Juliet, I suppose, never dreamed that we would search Tante's bed for the concealed letter and so believed it would not be unearthed until her return. I don't know what gave me the inspiration to look there? Personally I wish Juliet had vanished from Tante's life for all time, rather than until the close of her visit to us. Let us go down to the drawing-room and make our report. I'll bear the letter with me and see if mother thinks we should dare open it."

"No, I do not consider it wise to open Polly's letter," Mrs. Graham stated ten minutes later. "She is so unnecessarily sensitive about the girl, I don't wish her to feel that we regard Juliet's behavior as more than ordinarily discourteous. I am relieved that she planned her disappearance, so she is not in any trouble. Polly will decide what is best when she learns what Juliet wishes her to know. Put the letter in Polly's room, please, Bettina, dear, not under her pillow, that seems to imply secrecy; lay it upon her desk where she will be apt to observe it soon after her arrival. Thank goodness, she will be at home after another day and two nights. She has been with me so little in the past years I begrudge the loss of each day."

Bettina sat down on the arm of her mother's chair.

"Is Aunt Patricia coming with Tante, mother, you have not said?"

"Yes, I think so, I have had a room made ready, although in Polly's last letter Aunt Patricia still seemed to be arguing the question. I never have had much doubt, however, that she finally would do what Polly insists upon.

"However, the battle will not be severe, as Aunt Patricia is longing to surrender."

*CHAPTER XVII*

*THE RETURN*

The entire house party was down at the landing to meet the little boat which was to bring the Camp Fire guardian back to the "House by the Blue Lagoon."

She was seen standing on the deck looking younger and slighter than ever with Miss Patricia Lord's tall, gaunt figure beside her.

The instant the boat reached the shore, after receiving an enthusiastic welcome, Alice Ashton and Vera Lagerloff took Miss Patricia by the arm in an effort to separate her from the others, while Bettina, Sally, Mary Gilchrist, Marguerite Arnot and the two younger girls, Elce and Maida, surrounded Mrs. Burton.

Mrs. Graham seized the opportunity to whisper as she kissed her friend.

"Hail, the conquering hero comes, Polly!" to have the other woman murmur:

"Oh, do be careful, please, Betty. I'll tell you everything when we are alone. You don't know what I have been through and how little like a conqueror I feel."

Then Mrs. Graham left her and supplanted Alice by Miss Patricia's side.

"Don't you think Polly is looking pretty well, Aunt Patricia?"

Pausing in her long strides, Miss Patricia frowned.

"Fairly well, better perhaps that I expected, but never so strong as we would have her, Betty. However, she is a wilful woman and it cannot be helped. It has nearly broken my heart, Betty, to have been separated from her so long, and the fault was altogether her own. Polly agrees that it was."

"Certainly, Aunt Patricia, if you and Polly feel this to be true, I have no thought of differing with you. Here is David Hale wanting to speak to you. Bettina and I gave our masculine guests the instruction this morning that they were to keep in the background until we were allowed to welcome you. You and David are such old friends he seems not to intend to wait his turn."

"I insist that Miss Patricia allow me to carry her bag. I have seen her decline to allow Miss Ashton or Miss Lagerloff to touch it, but whether it contains bonds or precious stones I will not run away with it, Aunt Patricia."

Entering her own room, followed by Mrs. Graham and Miss Lord, Mrs. Burton moved quickly across and opened the door of the room adjoining.

She then turned:

"Betty, where is Juliet? I wondered why she did not come to meet me with the other girls and now she is not in her room. Is anything the matter?"

Picking up the letter from the desk Mrs. Graham extended it toward her friend.

"I don't think so, Polly, although I scarcely know. Juliet Temple left here without telling me that she intended to leave; it was only a day or so ago and we decided it best to await your return. The letter she addressed to you will probably explain. We concluded that she was homesick without you here and has gone to your apartment."

"I am sorry, Betty, I am afraid Juliet has not been polite, when I especially asked your permission to allow her to join us.

"Juliet Temple has written me that she has forged my check for two thousand five hundred dollars and has gone with her brother to Canada. She is perfectly frank, poor child, and tells how and why. The fault is partly through my carelessness! A few days before I left Juliet asked me to sign a check for two hundred and fifty dollars for the rent of my New York apartment. I was in a hurry at the time and I believe took her word for it and did not look at the check. She tells me she had so arranged that she could change the amount, which she did at once.

"Her brother was in the army and stationed not far from here. She has been in the habit of seeing him since we have been on the island. Juliet has always insisted that he was the one person in the world she cared for and that he had given her nothing but sorrow. It seems that he has been committing a number of offences and expected to be court-martialed, but instead of submitting, had planned to desert. For his sake Juliet appears to have lost all sense of honor or duty toward me. She seems convinced that I will not prosecute her. She tells me she was leaving immediately for New York, where she will have the check cashed (she is in the habit of cashing my checks). Afterwards, she and her brother intend to make their home in Canada and never return to the United States! A pretty desperate situation, isn't it?"

"Yes, Polly, but I'll telegraph to Anthony in Washington and, if it can be accomplished, he will see that the girl is found and brought back. I am so distressed for you, it is such a large sum of money and you have trusted the girl so completely."

"Yes, Betty, but I don't want Juliet found and punished. I have no right to feel or behave like this and every one of you must say exactly what you like to me. I know I am absolutely wrong and that she ought to be made to suffer the legal penalty, but I simply haven't the force of character or the courage. I could not endure to think of a girl who has been so near me, who has lived as a member of my family and been good to me in many small ways, shut up in prison for the rest of her youth."

"Yes, Polly, I know, let us not talk of this now. Painful as it is, you cannot allow yourself to be so sentimental and cowardly, dear! Besides, the money is a great deal more than you and Richard can possibly afford to lose!"

"Goodness, I had forgotten that! It is not only _more_ than we can afford to lose, it is nearly all the money we possess at present. Juliet must have known. We saved from the amount I earned last winter only what we thought sufficient to last through the summer, until I returned to work in the autumn; the rest Richard has devoted to the payments he and I feel called upon to make."

"Yes, and a nice time, Polly Burton, for you to assume the added responsibility of an old woman to support!" Miss Patricia said harshly.

"Do you think, Aunt Patricia, that this is the time for you to say unkind things to me? Don't you think I have a good deal to bear and that you might not make it harder?"

Too overcome to speak, Miss Patricia nodded and actually two tears rolled unchecked down her gaunt cheeks.

"I am afraid Richard will be terribly worried and annoyed over my carelessness," Mrs. Burton said childishly.

"Richard Burton! Let him dare utter a word! Who was it brought that unpleasant girl, whom I never liked at any time, into our home at Half Moon Lake? I remember his saying something or other about being a knight errant!" Miss Patricia snorted, and the girls, Polly Burton and Betty Graham broke into hysterical laughter that saved the situation.

"I fear that from the first Juliet Temple realized that I was an easy person to deceive. In her letter she also confides the fact that when she told me she had been wrongfully accused in her office in Washington, she did this in order that I might be impressed with the idea that she would not have confessed had she been guilty.[*] Well, at least I rejoice that you girls were never deceived by her and that Juliet was never a member of our Sunrise Camp Fire. Let us speak of her as little as possible in the future."

[*] See "Camp Fire Girls at Half Moon Lake."

"And Polly, you are not to worry over money; of course Anthony and I are not rich, but you may have anything that we possess. Why not make me the happiest of human beings and you and Aunt Patricia and Richard spend the summer here with me in the 'House by the Blue Lagoon'? You may do whatever you wish and we'll not trouble you," Mrs. Graham urged.

"You are an angel, Betty, but Aunt Patricia and Richard and I must hide somewhere where I can work and study, if I can find a play for next winter. Now may I lie down for a little while?"

A few moments later, in Miss Patricia's bedroom, she and her hostess continued the discussion.

"What do you think, Aunt Patricia? Ought we allow Polly to permit this girl to go free, in spite of her deceit and treachery?"

"I don't know what else is possible, Betty. Polly is wrong, she nearly always is wrong, and yet to punish the girl would have a most disastrous effect upon her. There is a sweetness about her and a generosity; Polly has been most generous and sweet to me, Betty, when I have behaved very badly and so I would not care to influence her, if I could, to be severe upon any one else."

"Don't, Aunt Patricia, speak of yourself in any such connection! But about the money, Polly will never allow us to help her. She never would accept anything from anyone save you, and now you can no longer afford to help."

A moment Miss Patricia sat crumpling a large, masculine-looking handkerchief in her capable hands, while a flush spread over her face that amazed her companion.

"Betty Graham, I desire to make a confession to you and to request you to keep my secret until such time as I may be willing to speak of it myself. The truth is I am not so poor as I have allowed you and Polly and the Camp Fire girls to believe. I have lost money, my home for French orphans is costing twice the amount I had expected it would cost, and I have found it an excellent arrangement to rent my house near Boston and to live as economically as possible, but I am not a pauper. Now do use your intelligence and understand why I have wished you to be deceived.

"Apparently I had hopelessly estranged Polly and had reached a point where I could not any longer endure being apart from her. Some weeks ago she sent me word through Richard that never so long as she lived would she accept anything more at my hands and that she had entreated me to make friends with her for the last time. There are occasions you know when Polly can be singularly obstinate. So what was I to do? Appeal to her sympathy, make her believe there was something she could do for me. Mavourneen, I knew she would fly to my rescue. So I sent out the word and she came and now I shall be parted from her no more. But, Betty, my dear, Polly shall never suffer. Do not believe that I shall fail to keep sufficient money to see she has all she desires. For the present let us have our little house and our summer together and Polly the belief that she is caring for me. I shall dread the day when she learns what I have told you."

*CHAPTER XVIII*

*THE ETERNAL WAY*

The Eternal Way lies before him,
The Way that is made manifest in the Wise.
The Heart that loves reveals itself to man,
For now he draws nigh to the Source,
The night advances fast,
And lo! the moon shines bright.

"Will you come into the garden for a farewell talk with me, Bettina? You know, I leave for Washington in the morning."

"In a quarter of an hour, David. I must see that my two small girls are in bed before I join you. Suppose you wait for me on the beach near the sun dial."

The night was warm and instead of sitting down David Hale walked about, thinking of a very different garden where first he had met Bettina Graham, the "Queen's Secret Garden", near "The Little Trianon" in the great park at Versailles.

He remembered his own surprise upon discovering an American girl half asleep in the shadow of a group of statuary and startled into wakefulness by his unexpected approach.

So their acquaintance had begun in a romantic setting that David thought never to find repeated. To-night he was by no means sure the surroundings were not equally lovely.

The moon was rising before the afterglow had wholly faded. A light breeze made the delicate green leaves rustle on a hundred nearby trees, the magnolias were in bloom over the entire island, scenting the night air with their heavy, tropical fragrance.

In the moonlight and the last of the purple twilight, David Hale was devoting little attention to these details. He was thinking with the concentration over which he had a special mastery, of something he wished to say to Bettina Graham and of how he had best say it.

She waved a long blue scarf as she came running down the path toward him.

"I did not keep you waiting long, David, did I? I am sorry you must go to-morrow, but then the house party will break up in another week or ten days and I am returning to New York. After all, it is a shorter journey for you to come back to the 'House by the Blue Lagoon' than for me, and you know mother and Marguerite Arnot are always pleased to see you. I wish I could reach here so easily; for a number of reasons it is going to be very hard to leave the island, our island. I have a fashion of saying 'our island' over again to myself every now and then because it seems so incredible that we can own such an exquisite spot and that it is no farther away from the outside world. Why, except that it is not tropical, we might almost deceive ourselves into believing that we were on one of the south sea islands!"

"Then why do you go, Bettina, unless you wish? There certainly can be no other reason and your mother will be distressed at your departure. It is so impossible for me to understand your point of view. Your home is here and no other place can be so beautiful!"

"I know, David," Bettina answered gently, "and yet I have tried so often to explain to you and to other people: beautiful as this place is and loving it as I do, yet my work and life are no more here than your own. You are going back to Washington, David; you are very ambitious and some day intend to have a political career. Suppose this were your home instead of mine, would you stay here always? Would you give up your work and your ambition and your future to live in an island of dreams?

"No, of course you would not? Then why do you think I should? Oh, I know the answer, I have gone into the subject so many times--because I am a girl and there is no reason why I should devote myself to social work, when my father is a man of prominence and some wealth and my mother all that is sweet and charming and popular. I am not going to talk about myself, only you do know my reason and you could understand my point of view if you would make the effort. Instead of caring less for my work after a few months of effort and experience, I care more than at the beginning."

"I am sorry, Bettina."

Bettina laughed.

"Why should you be? Mother and father are becoming more reconciled."

She and David had not ceased walking now they stopped and Bettina leaned over the sun dial.

"I am glad our garden boasts a sun dial, as it would not be half so picturesque without, yet the inscription is curious and taken from an ancient Japanese poem, which would seem to make it a moon dial and appropriate to-night, David. I can repeat it because I think I know the poem by heart:

"The Eternal Way lies before him,
The Way that is made manifest in the Wise.
The Heart that loves reveals itself to man
For now he draws nigh to the Source,
The night advances fast,
And lo! the moon shines bright.

"See David, even in the poem the Way lies before _him_, not before _her_."

"There is only one way that I wish lay before you, Bettina, the way of learning to care for me. Please don't interrupt me, this cannot be altogether a surprise to you. I think I tried to make you see how I felt toward you at the beginning of our acquaintance, although I did my best to wait until your mother and father had learned to know something of me and until you were older. I would wait now if you were not becoming so absorbed in the work you have undertaken that I am afraid you will lose all interest in me. My dear Bettina, affection is the supreme thing and if you will only wait and have faith in me, some day I may be able to offer you a name and a future of which you may be proud."

Bettina shook her head.

"David, I am glad you said this to me, as I wish to be perfectly frank. No, I am not altogether surprised, yet I am going to sound as if I were unappreciative and unkind. I not only don't care for you in the way you desire, but I never could learn to care. I dread the whole thought of romance and sincerely hope it may never come into my life. I have my work and my family and friends and please never speak of this again."

"But if it should come, Bettina, when you are older and wiser and less self-absorbed, would I, could I have any chance with you then?"

"No, David Hale, never; from the first I have never wanted you to be anything but my friend. Please let me say good-by and good luck to you. There is some one else in the garden and I am afraid we might be overheard."

"Good-night, and good-by for a long time, Bettina. I am sorry to have troubled you."

As Bettina ran on, Robert Burton stepped in front of her.

"You are not going indoors on a night like this, Miss Graham! Why not stay and talk to me for a while? I don't know what the other fellow has done to make you in such haste, but I shall try to be more agreeable. You have been very kind to have asked me here, but I have seen less of my hostess than I counted on seeing.

"Remember when we are back in New York you have promised to take me to one of your settlement houses and make me useful, if it is possible that an idle fellow like I am can be useful to anyone."

"Yes, no, thank you, but I must go in," Bettina protested. "Nothing has happened, but I am in a good deal of a hurry. Why are you idle? Please understand I don't wish you to help with the settlement work on my account, not unless you feel a deep interest in the work itself."

"Yes? Well, that is one way of stating the case," Robert Burton answered. "Wasn't I a good Samaritan when you were lost in New York?"

Bettina did not answer, already having vanished up the path toward the house.

At the same moment that Bettina was escaping in one direction, Mary Gilchrist was hurrying down the front lawn toward the lagoon in search of Allan Drain.

She was a good deal excited and considerably out of breath.

Allan appeared extremely comfortable lying on the bottom of the anchored boat with his face upturned to the sky.

"Oh, Allan, I have the most wonderful news for you!" Gill exclaimed, giving a flying leap and landing in the bottom of the boat which rocked dangerously at her descent.

"If you have, Gill, I think it your duty not to attempt to drown me before I am able to hear it," Allan expostulated, straightening up and removing the sofa cushions upon which he had been resting and tossing one of them to Gill.

"Really, Gill, of late you have been returning to those boyish habits and manners which I found so reprehensible in you at the beginning of our acquaintance. After you have confided to me your thrilling information do you think you can sit calm and speechless in this boat for the next half hour?

"I had escaped from the others in order to enjoy a little peace and solitude, which is so difficult to attain upon a house party. You may not have intended it, but at the instant you plunged into this boat I am under the impression that you destroyed an immortal sonnet. I cannot recall a line at present, that is why I feel so convinced it was immortal."

"A thousand times I crave your pardon, Allan Drain. You know I have a fashion of banishing your poetic muse. However, return to your poetizing, I can sit here in silence for a half hour or more _before_ telling you my wonderful news just as readily as _after_ telling it to you."

Five minutes passed.

Finally Allan yawned.

"See here, Gill, I think you might confide what you came to say. I have an idea that it is of small importance--girls' secrets usually are--but it bores me to have you sit there with your lips tightly pressed together, as if the words would rush through otherwise, and your face white and your eyes shining. If any good fortune has come to you, Gill, please tell me. You know how glad I shall be."

"The good fortune is not mine, it is yours, only it is mine also because I am so glad for you."

"Then let me hear what it is. I know you too well to believe you would try to deceive me," Allan answered, as if he were fighting against a hope he dared not permit himself to hold.

"It cannot be possible that Mrs. Burton has a good word to say for my play!"

"More than that, Allan, she is very enthusiastic. Now do keep still and I shall tell you everything I know. The night of her return to the 'House by the Blue Lagoon', Mrs. Burton was feeling restless and unhappy over something that was troubling her a great deal, and so was unable to sleep. She rose up out of bed and wrote a letter to her husband; when she had finished, as your play was in her desk, she picked it up and began looking it over, with no thought of actually reading it at the time. Something interested her, a line, or a character, and she read on until she had finished. When she lay the play down and turned off the electric light dawn had come. Still she remained unable to sleep."

"You mean she was thinking of my play?"

"Yes, Allan, I do mean that, she was thinking of it, but she was distrusting her own judgment and determined to wait until a day or more had passed in order to read the play again before arriving at a decision or speaking to any one concerning it.

"This afternoon she read it for the second time and after dinner asked Mrs. Graham and Aunt Patricia and me to come into her sitting-room. She explained that she asked me rather than any one of the other Camp Fire girls, because of late we have appeared to be special friends and because accidentally I gave your play its title: 'The Red Flower'. She told me I was to come and tell you how much she liked it before she spoke to you herself, so that perhaps you would forgive me for the loss of your poems a year ago.

"Allan, why don't you say something? What is the matter? I simply go on talking in this stupid fashion because you won't speak."

"I can't, Gill, not for a moment, the wonder and surprise and happiness are too great. Now Mrs. Burton likes my play I shall be willing to consign it to the flames from whence it received its name."

"Foolish boy, do you suppose I believe you? I ought not to tell you this, because I was not given the right, although no one said I must not speak of it. Mrs. Burton wants to play 'The Red Flower' next winter, if her manager thinks the play half so fine as she thinks it. She is to telegraph him in the morning to come to the island and give her his opinion. If they agree she wants to remain here on the island in one of the small fishermen's cottages, which can be done over, and study and work for a part of the summer. There will probably be changes that must be made, so she wants you to spend a part of the time here if it is possible for you."

There was no reply, save that leaning over, Allan lifted the anchor. Then taking both oars he pulled rapidly out into the centre of the blue lagoon and onward toward the bay.

"Don't be frightened, Gill, I'll not get into a difficulty to-night. This is the greatest moment of my life and I cannot sit still and accept it calmly. I want to feel myself a part of all this, of the water and the sky and of creation itself. Don't laugh at me and don't trouble to understand, only thank you and know that I would rather you had shared this moment with me than any one else. We are friends now, Gill, for all time, whatever may seem to separate us in the future, we must both recall this hour and the beauty and peace of the Blue Lagoon!"

* * * * * * * *

*BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK*

*THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES*

The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge The Ranch Girls' Pot of Gold The Ranch Girls at Boarding School The Ranch Girls in Europe The Ranch Girls at Home Again The Ranch Girls and their Great Adventure The Ranch Girls and their Heart's Desire The Ranch Girls and the Silver Arrow The Ranch Girls and the Mystery of the Three Roads

*STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS*

The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World The Camp Fire Girls Across the Sea The Camp Fire Girls' Careers The Camp Fire Girls in After Years The Camp Fire Girls on the Edge of the Desert The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail The Camp Fire Girls Behind the Lines The Camp Fire Girls on the Field of Honor The Camp Fire Girls in Glorious France The Camp Fire Girls in Merrie England The Camp Fire Girls at Half Moon Lake The Camp Fire Girls by the Blue Lagoon

*THE GIRL SCOUTS SERIES*

The Girl Scouts of the Eagle's Wing The Girl Scouts in Beechwood Forest The Girl Scouts of the Round Table The Girl Scouts in Mystery Valley The Girl Scouts and the Open Road