The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows

by Margaret Vandercook

  CHAPTER XV A Boomerang

  Two weeks later Polly received a note at the cabin asking that she comeinto Woodford on the following Friday afternoon for an interview with afriend of Miss Margaret Adams, who happened by chance to be in Woodfordfor a few days and wanted an opportunity for talking with her about herfuture. For whatever resulted from this interview Polly had herselfchiefly to blame. She most certainly should never have replied to a notesigned by a name which was unfamiliar without consulting the guardian ofthe Sunrise club. But Polly knew perfectly well that Rose would neverhave permitted her to have any such conference. She knew also that theirguardian and her mother's friend was almost as much opposed as her sisterMollie to her ambition and considered that she was behaving most unwiselyin letting her mind dwell on a possibility which in any case was veryindefinite and far away. Indeed, Rose had had a quiet talk with Pollyasking her not to discuss the subject of the stage with the other girlsand to try and give her own energy and attention solely to their CampFire work. Polly had agreed and was apparently keeping her promise, sinceshe felt so assured that the Camp Fire ideals must help every woman inwhatever work she undertook later in life.

  Nevertheless, when the first temptation came Polly fell. One night shespent in indecision, wondering why Miss Margaret Adams had not written toher about her friend or why Miss Adams, their elocution teacher, had saidnothing. These questions, however, Polly finally answered satisfactorilyto herself, since it is usually easy to find answers that accord withone's own desires. By morning she had made up her mind that she would goand see the stranger and have a talk with him, since no harm could comeof one small visit.

  The appointment was to take place at the home of Meg, whose Professorfather was one of the most prominent men in the village and Polly wastold to bring a chaperon, so from the standpoint of propriety she wascommitting no offence. She had not seen Meg for a week and so could askher no questions, and as Betty was the only person who could be reliedupon in the emergency, to Betty she confided the whole situation, not inthe least asking her advice, since this was not the way with MistressPolly, but begging Betty to be present with her during the call. If Bettydemurred at first, suggesting Miss Dyer, Miss McMurtry, Miss Mary Adams,as more suitable chaperons, she did finally agree. So early on Fridayafternoon the two girls started into town in their best clothes, sayingthat they were going in on an errand. Betty was driving Fire Star andPolly carrying a volume of "Romeo and Juliet" and "Palgrave's GoldenTreasury." The note had suggested that since Miss Margaret Adams had hadno opportunity to hear Miss O'Neill recite, the writer would beinterested to know what she could do.

  Polly was cold with nervous excitement all the way into town. She was notin the least sure whether she did not dread the coming interview morethan anything that had ever happened to her in her life and she also hadvery uncomfortable twinges of conscience, since this venture of hers hadno grown-up sanction. There had been no time as yet to write her motherabout it and she had not confided in Mollie, who once had known all hersecrets. Indeed, had she not even felt glad that Mollie had decided notto return to the cabin after school that day but to remain in town with afriend, so that no uncomfortable family questions could be raised.

  By special request Betty was invited not to talk on the journey in, sothat Polly could have the opportunity for repeating to herself the poemsshe had made up her mind to recite and go once more over Juliet's famouslament.

  The hall at the Professor's was unusually dark when Meg herself, to thegirls' delight, opened the front door. Polly was by this time in tooagitated a condition to stop for asking questions, but although Betty wasnot, Meg did not seem willing to answer them. Instead she kept shakingher head and pointing mysteriously toward their drawing room door. "Thestranger was already in there, yes, her father knew him, Polly must notmind that the visitor had his wife with him, she was also an actress uponwhose judgment he placed the greatest reliance, but the girls were not todo more than bow to her, as it bored her to meet people."

  If the hall was dark the drawing room was even darker, but then beforejoining the Camp Fire club Meg had been a proverbially poor housekeeper,so she probably had neglected to open the drawing room shutters and, asit was a dark February afternoon, the light that came through the slatswas not sufficient. Betty felt most distinctly that she was not going toenjoy the approaching interview, that there was already something odd anduncomfortable about it, but she had no opportunity for confiding herviews and Polly was not in a critical humor. As for the darkness Pollywas decidedly grateful for it. If she had to get up and recite before Megand Betty and the two strangers it would be far easier to be in the halfshadow than to have their critical glances full upon her. This drawingroom recitation before so small an audience did not appeal to Pollyanyhow, certainly it held none of the glamour of the stage, the music,the footlights, the feeling that you were no longer your real self but aperformer in some other drama in some different world.

  Betty sat down at once in a far corner, as she saw no notice was to betaken of her, but Polly felt herself having her hand shaken coldly by atall, broad-shouldered, middle-aged man wearing glasses, with an irongray, pointed beard and iron gray hair pulled low down over his forehead.He seemed, however, not to have the least desire for conversation, forwaving Polly toward the center of the room, he at once asked her to showwhat she could do, without introducing his wife nor making the leastsatisfactory explanation of his own presence in Woodford, hisacquaintance with Miss Margaret Adams, nor his right to have solicitedthis meeting with Polly.

  However, none of these points weighed upon the girl's mind at the time.The man looked just as she expected an actor-manager might look, and asfor his wife, she could see nothing of her but a figure dressed in a longtraveling coat and wearing a hat and heavy veil, who had not even deignedto glance in her direction.

  "What--what shall I begin with?" Polly inquired anxiously. "Miss Adams,our teacher of elocution at the High School, says that young girls shouldtry simple recitations, that it is absurd for us to attempt to reveal thegreat emotions such as one finds in Shakespeare's plays, or Ibsen's orMaeterlinck's, that we must wait until we know something more of life forthem. I did not feel sure what you would think about it, but I know someEnglish poems, very famous and very beautiful, perhaps you would like meto begin with one of them?"

  There was a slight hesitation in Polly's voice because personally shefound the simple poems much more difficult than the big ones and hertaste did not incline toward Whitcomb Riley, or Eugene Field, toward anyof the simple character work, which would have been the best possibletraining for her at the present time.

  But the critic fortunately agreeing with Polly's point of view shook hishead gravely over her suggestion of English verses.

  "No," he said a little pompously, it must be confessed, "try the mostdifficult thing you know and even if you do not make an entire success ofit I will be better able to judge what you can do." The man spoke in ahoarse, strained voice which to Betty's ears sounded forced and peculiar.

  "Would you--would you think it very foolish if I tried Juliet's speechbefore she takes the poison?" Polly then asked timidly. "I know I can'tdo it very well, it is one of the greatest speeches in the whole world ofacting, but perhaps for that very reason I like to attempt it."

  Polly had thrown off her red coat and hat in the hall, but she waswearing her best frock, a simple cashmere made in a single piece, with acrushed velvet belt of a darker shade and a collar and cuffs of realIrish lace which her mother had sent as a Christmas gift from Ireland.Her hair was very dark and her coloring vivid, so perhaps she did notlook so utterly unlike the Italian Juliet, whom it is difficult for us tobelieve was only fourteen at the time of her tragic love story.

  "Farewell,--and God knows when we shall meet again," Polly began in a farless melodramatic fashion than one might have expected; indeed, Bettythought her voice exquisitely pathetic and appealing and even Meg, whohad not the s
lightest sympathy with Polly's dramatic aspirations, wassubtly impressed.

  "I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes up the heat of life. I'll call them back again to comfort me.-- Nurse!--What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone. Come, phial. What if this mixture do not work at all, Shall I be married, then, to-morrow morning? No, no;--this shall forbid it:--lie thou there--"

  And here Polly is being carried away by the thrill of her ownperformance. Almost she believes she beholds a slight suggestion ofadmiration in the blue eyes of the critic who most assuredly is watchingher efforts with a great deal of interest. Unhappily, however, in herpreparation for this great occasion, Polly has forgotten the necessarystage equipment and now at this instant remembers that Juliet requires adagger to make this moment properly realistic. The girl is in a deliciousstate of excitement. For the time being actually she is feeling herselfthe terrified and yet superbly courageous Juliet, and there on the parlortable, as though by direct inspiration, is reposing a steel paper cutterof the Professor's.

  With a quick movement of her hand Polly seizes the desired dagger, butalso she seizes something else along with it, for the table cover comesoff at the same instant, almost overwhelming Juliet in a rain of papers,ornaments and books.

  Polly feels as though she would faint with chagrin and mortification, sosuddenly and so uncomfortably is she brought back to the hard realities."I am so dreadfully sorry," she starts to say, but before she hasfinished, her attention is arrested by the behavior of the mysteriousveiled lady.

  She had given a hysterical giggle, first one, then another, as though shewere never going to be able to stop. Meg's face is also crimson with theeffort to control her laughter, although she is looking nervously, almostimploringly, toward her strange visitor.

  The solitary man in the room has simply turned his back upon the wholesituation and is gazing steadfastly at the closed windows.

  Polly thinks perhaps she is losing her senses, for there had beensomething familiar in that excited laughter which is now turning almostinto a sob, and yet of course the idea was ridiculous. Polly then turnedentreatingly toward Betty Ashton as her one sure rock of salvation in avanishing world, and Betty never forgot the expression in her friend'seyes, the look of wounded dignity, of disappointed affection, of almostresentful disbelief. For in Betty's returning glance she found aconfirmation of her worst fears.

  The truth of the matter was that Betty had been suspicious of the littlegroup of spectators of her friend's recitation almost as soon as Pollybegan her speech. She was not under the pressure of so much excitementand had time and opportunity to look about and examine people and thingsmore closely.

  The woman in the long cloak--evidently her clothes were of the ready-madevariety, for they certainly did not fit. Also she seemed very slender fora full grown woman, and in spite of her intention to remain unobservedwas curiously nervous.

  And the man? He was trying to keep his face in the shadow, but fromBetty's point of observation a ray of afternoon sunlight fell directlyacross his face. The line where his beard began was extremely distinctand his cheeks above it brown and boyish. Besides, though he did wearglasses, his eyes showed fear, amusement and Polly was right in a way,for they did show a certain amount of admiration, although they werecertainly never the eyes of a censorious dramatic critic. For severalmoments Betty had been longing to interrupt Polly's speech-making but hadnot known exactly how, and indeed had hardly dared. Perhaps if she couldget Polly away before she ever found things out it would be best. Polly'stemper was never very good, and this would hurt her in all the ways inwhich she was most sensitive.

  The girl's face was white as chalk as she now ceased gazing at Betty andwalked quietly across the room toward the supposedly strange woman whohad risen at her approach and was trembling violently.

  "It is a joke, Polly, don't be angry; we thought if you could just seehow silly play acting seemed to other people you would give it up," thevoice shook a little.

  For Polly was ominously pale and quiet as she gently untied the veil andlifted off the stranger's hat.

  "So you wanted to see how much of a fool you could make of me, didn'tyou, Mollie? Well, you have succeeded splendidly, dear; I can't imaginehow you could have had any greater success!" And Polly shut her lipstight together and clenched her hands. If only Betty and Meg and Mollieknew how furiously, suffocatingly angry she was they would probably beafraid to have anything to do with her.

  But Meg was approaching her with her usually happy face somewhat clouded."I am afraid you must think pretty poorly of us all, Polly, really itjust looked funny to us at first, we only meant to tease you. But now,while I am willing to confess, it does seem rather hateful of us and Iwant to apologize to you for my part in this whole proceeding."

  Still Polly made no answer, only when Mollie rather timidly put her armsabout her saying: "Please do, Polly dear, forgive us and don't take thewhole thing so seriously, you are fond enough of a joke yourself," shequietly pushed Mollie aside and turned toward Betty.

  "Please take me home then, Betty, for I am afraid I have furnished allthe amusement this afternoon that I feel equal to." But when Betty's armswent about her, Polly trembled so violently that she had to hide her headon her friend's shoulder and just for an instant a choked sob shook her.Both girls, however, were moving toward the closed drawing room door, butbefore they could leave the room a tall form barred their way.

  "You can't go until I have spoken to you," Billy Webster said almostrudely in his determination to be obeyed. He had taken off his beard, wigand glasses and his face showed almost as white as Polly's.

  But Polly looked directly at him with eyes that apparently did not seehim.

  "I never wish to have to speak to you again so long as I live, Mr.Webster," she said quietly, "And you can be quite happy, because whateverold scores you may think you owe me, you have paid me back this afternoonwith interest."