CHAPTER X A Good Samaritan
Ellen Deal came out into the September sunshine with a breakfast tray inher hand. The tray chanced to be a flat pine board, but it was coveredwith a neat little paper napkin. And, although the china on it was roughand failed to match, the aroma of the coffee, the fragrance of thefreshly broiled bacon, made one indifferent to details.
The tall young man, who had been lying back in a steamer chair mournfullyreading a torn newspaper several days old, suddenly straightened up andsmiled.
The instant after he had taken the tray from Ellen's hands his faceclouded.
"Isn't your breakfast all right?" she asked, a little furrow appearing inher forehead. Ellen's expression was nearly always serious, but it waseven more so now. Although it was so early in the morning and she hadbeen cooking, she looked exquisitely neat in a fresh white blouse, a darkkhaki skirt and one of her big hospital aprons. Her sandy-colored hair, alittle redder from the past week's outdoors, was drawn English fashioninto a kind of bun at the back of her head. But, although Ellen tried tobe prim, and although she could control her face, she had rebellioushair. One knows the kind--it would break out into little ripples on herforehead and at the back of her neck. And her skin, where it was notexposed, had the peculiar whiteness and beauty that belongs to her typeof coloring.
The young man in the chair laughed at her question.
"My breakfast is perhaps the most perfect thing that ever happened, or atleast that has happened to me in many a day," he answered. "You see Ihave been living under my Sister Marta's ministrations for a year, andMarta thinks herself above cooking. She prefers to follow the fine arts.Truth of the matter is the child has never been taught anything and hasnever had the right kind of feminine influence. You see, my mother andfather died when Marta was a little girl and she and I have spent ourlives in boarding houses. I don't mean to criticise her; the child hasmade a terrible struggle to take care of me, and it has been awfully hardon her, staying out here in the wilds with a hopeless stick of a brother.You can't imagine what it means--her discovery of the Camp Fire girls andyour kindness. As for you, Miss Deal; well, I haven't words to express mygratitude. It positively takes away my appetite for breakfast because Ifeel under such obligation to you."
Ellen flushed uncomfortably. Her companion was a Southerner and talkedeasily and charmingly. He might say he did not know how to express hisgratitude, but this was not true, for few hours passed in the day withouthis showing it in one way or another.
However, Ellen had not the gift of self-expression, and cordiality fromanother seemed to freeze her up. It was this trait of her character whichhad made Mrs. Burton not care for her much at first, and which kept herfrom greater intimacy with the girls, except Alice Ashton, who was notunlike her.
Now, instead of appearing gracious, she looked annoyed.
"I have asked you several times not to mention gratitude," she returned,staring ahead and turning undeniably red. "If I must tell you the truth,I like it better here than at our own camp. That is, I like beinguseful--not your camp itself--there is no comparison."
This time her companion showed embarrassment.
"Naturally there is no comparison. My sister's and my arrangements are ofthe simplest and I have no doubt Mrs. Burton's camp leaves nothing to bedesired. That is one of the causes of my gratitude. I am afraid we havenot been able to make you comfortable, though there is little doubt ofwhat you have done for us."
Robert Clark glanced around his own quarters. Even outdoors there was apleasanter sense of order and comfort. An outdoor camp can be made themost disorderly place in the world.
This morning the fire was burning in the right place so that the smokeblew away from the two tents--not toward them. There was no litter ofpaper and of cans; no broken sticks cluttering the ground. The wood wasneatly piled; the very earth itself appeared to have been swept.
"I wish you would eat your breakfast," Ellen replied curtly.
Then she watched her companion so carefully there was no mistaking herinterest, even if her manners were somewhat abrupt.
However, her companion was not in the slightest degree offended. In someway he seemed to understand Ellen's curtness and her domineeringattitude. Perhaps, if she had cared more for herself she would have triedto make herself more agreeable.
"Of course I'll go back as soon as Marta is strong enough to take propercare of you," she announced a few moments later as she arose to take awaythe empty breakfast dishes. "I know my being here makes the place morecrowded, but I really would like to stay a few days longer and let Martahave a good time. She is better now and can get about after a fashion,and the Camp Fire girls want her to go on a few of their excursions. Mrs.Burton has taken a fancy to her, I think."
"Then Marta will be in a seventh heaven. Only, I hope Mrs. Burton willget the nonsense out of her head that she wishes to be an actress. I amafraid, however, just the sight of her may have the opposite effect. Yousee, Marta and I used to plan to set the world on fire. Most youthfulpersons do, I was to be a great author and she a great actress. You seewhat our plans have come to."
The young man's tone was utterly despondent.
"I see nothing at all except that you are ill and have come out toArizona to get well. You have been here a year and I presume you arealready better." There was not the least trace of sympathy in Ellen'stone.
"As for being a great author, you seem to write all day as it is; so Idon't see how your illness interferes. I don't suppose you were becomingfamous as a newspaper reporter."
Rob Clark sat upright, his whole face changing, both in color andexpression.
"Miss Ellen Deal, you are the best tonic as well as the best nurse I haveever run across. I believe I would have a fighting chance in more waysthan one if you were going to stay in my neighborhood until I do getwell."
He had spoken spontaneously and without thinking beforehand. Of coursethere had been no serious meaning in his words.
But Ellen continued to stand holding the tray and looking at him.
"I am seriously considering staying with you, if you will allow me," sheanswered so unexpectedly, that her companion could only stare at herincredulously. "In the last few days I have decided that there is noreason why you should not recover if the right care is taken of you. ButI doubt Marta's ability. She is too untrained and too undisciplined. I amglad she is to come into our Camp Fire circle, where she ought to learn agreat deal that will be valuable for her. But it will take some time."
Robert Clark reached up and took the tray away from Ellen.
"Please sit down again for a moment," he asked, pointing to the campchair she had just occupied.
"What you have just said does me more good than you imagine. My sisterand I haven't many friends; we have always been poor, and an ancestrythat has not made good in the last generation does not count for muchnowaday--not even in the South. Then, you are very kind to try to braceme up; but a fellow is a quitter who breaks down in his early twentiesand has to live on the money a few friends and relations furnish him andhis sister. So you see, even if I would give my right hand to have youremain with us until you get really tired, why we just can't afford it. Anurse like you. Miss Deal, is a luxury no man is rich enough to deserve."
Although Ellen had sat down as her companion requested, she did not seemto be paying much attention to his words. But, at the last sentence, shefrowned.
"Don't be absurd. Of course, I know you can't afford the expense of atrained nurse or you would have had one. You haven't even a cook, and acook may be more important than a nurse in your present condition. But Iknow how to cook as well as nurse. I have known ever since I was a littlegirl. New England girls are brought up sensibly. And I am not a trainednurse. At least I am not a graduate. I have simply been staying out herein the West as a guest of Mrs. Burton until I got over a slightbreakdown. There was nothing the matter with me but being tired, and Ifeel splendid now."
Ellen
stopped a moment and seemed to be thinking deeply.
"I don't see why you can't let me stay here for a while with you and yoursister without paying me. I have accepted Mrs. Burton's hospitality whenI didn't even know her. I thought I might be useful in case any of theCamp Fire girls were ill, but they keep perfectly well. I think I amtired being idle, and I have money enough to pay my share of expenseswith you. They cannot be much."
Ellen was tactless.
Robert Clark was a Southerner and shrank from a discussion of moneymatters at all times. Ellen's speech had touched him where his nerveswere raw.
"Thank you, very much, but your suggestion is entirely out of thequestion," he answered coldly. He had a sensitive, well-bred face, mademore so by illness. Now his manner showed a hauteur of which he waswholly unconscious.
Ellen felt strangely ill at ease. She had a sensation of shrinking, ofshriveling up, inside her. Then, to her intense anger, her eyes filledwith tears. She hated herself for having hurt her companion and she hatedhim for having hurt her. But, most of all, she was horribly ashamed ofher own tactlessness--her fashion of making people dislike her when shehad intended being kind.
"I am sorry," she said a little huskily in spite of her efforts to speakcalmly, "I did not mean to force myself upon you and your sister. Ofcourse you will be happier alone, and I am sure you will soon bestronger."
What the young man would have answered could not be known, for just thenMarta came out of her tent. She still limped a little but was not using acrutch.
Her eccentric, somewhat irregular face was radiant, and she was wearingher same best grey-green dress.
"When do you think the Camp Fire party will come for me, Miss Deal? Youare an angel to stay here and let me go on this expedition with them. Iam so happy I would like to dance with one leg, even if the other isslightly out of commission. But what is the matter, Rob; why are youlooking so grouchy?"
Marta had come up close to the older girl and her brother and nowsurveyed him severely.
"Don't mind Rob, if he is having a tantrum, Miss Deal. He does now andthen, though I must say he has a better disposition than I have. If Iwere you I would just go away and leave him for a little while. When hegets lonely he is sure to behave better. Come with me, won't you, and letus see if the Camp Fire party is nearly here."
Ellen and Marta moved a few steps away. They had not gone far before theyheard the old Camp Fire call.
"Wo-he-lo for work, wo-he-lo for health, wo-he-lo for love."