CHAPTER VII A Study in Temperaments
"But, Vera, you must not continue waiting on Billy in this fashion; he isever so much better and perfectly able to look after himself."
Mrs. Webster had just walked across from where she had been sitting withher sister sewing, to a particularly beautiful spot where Vera Lageloffand Billy Webster had been spending the afternoon together. It had beencool during the morning but, with the coming of the afternoon, the sunhad shone clearly and warmly.
Vera and Billy had chosen a place near the foot of the hill, down whichran the stream of water that supplied the camp, and near the tiny lakewhich the Camp Fire girls had conventionally named their wishing well.
Here, in spite of the warm weather, they had built a small camp fire, forthere was a quantity of wood from the pine trees nearby.
They had been together for an hour or so, and Mrs. Webster had justobserved Vera make the third trip to their group of tents and then returnto Billy.
She was standing now with her arms filled with papers and magazines,which she had just secured.
Vera laughed. "Oh, Billy hates to move, and I don't," she replied alittle apologetically.
But Billy, who should have been the apologetic one, did not appear so inthe least.
He was sitting on an Indian blanket which had been spread by Vera beforetheir small fire, smiling placidly at his mother and friend.
"Don't you think people ought to be allowed to do what they like,Mother?"
Billy did not ask this question in a humorous fashion, as one mightsuppose under the circumstances, but quite seriously. However, Billynearly always appeared serious, and yet one never could be sure whatspirit hid itself behind his large, abstracted blue eyes.
Mrs. Webster sighed as she sat down beside him. Billy was the leastsatisfying of her three children and she made no pretense ofunderstanding him. Yet his illness and his physical need of her broughthim nearer to her than any one in the world.
"I think people ought to do what they like only when they can beperfectly fair to others at the same time," she answered gently.
This time Billy smiled. "If one is wanting a thing very hard for oneself,it is not always easy to remember other people; although, of course, itis right," he agreed unexpectedly. "Still I don't believe I am doing Veraany serious injustice. She does a great deal more of the Camp Fire workthan any of the other girls, and yet none of you realize it. Thedifference between us is that I do realize what she does for me."
Vera had also taken a place on the ground with her two companions andBilly now reached over and took hold of her hand.
There was nothing sentimental or emotional in the unusual friendshipbetween the boy and girl, although their devotion to each other was soapparent, and neither ever made the least effort at concealing it. But itwas the kind of affection that sometimes exists, even if but rarely,between a brother and sister, and only when the sister is older and thebrother unusual.
Vera's hand was the larger of the two, or at least it appeared so,because the palm was broad and the fingers long and capable. It was thehand of a person whose ancestors had worked with their hands, whileBilly's hand was extraordinarily thin and delicate, with blue veins andlong tapering fingers. Vera continued to hold it in hers as unconsciouslyas a mother might have done.
"Oh, don't worry about me, please, Mrs. Webster?" she protested smiling."What I most want is some day to be able to do some kind of work that isworth while. Billy is quite right; I do like work, although I don't callthe little things I do for him by any such name."
Mollie Webster studied the two friends more closely than theyappreciated. Although fond of Vera she could not help, motherlike, beingslightly jealous of the friendship between Vera and her son. She acceptedthe fact of Vera's better understanding of him; or if not understanding,at least her complete sympathy.
"I don't believe I was worrying about you, Vera; I must be truthful,"Mrs. Webster continued. "You see, mothers are pretty selfish, so it wasBilly I was actually thinking of. I don't feel worried over your future;you'll be sure to turn out all right, if you have the properopportunities. But I don't know what will become of Billy. You see, dearyou are so--so--"
"Lazy," Billy drawled, good humoredly, finishing his mother's sentence."Say the dreadful word; I don't mind."
Mrs. Webster shook her head. "I know you don't worry over your future,and that is the worst of it. You don't ever try to think of what you wishto do. Dan has already decided to be a scientific farmer, as his fatheris, and will study agriculture at college. But you, you won't ever talkof what you would like to do. You know you won't even exert yourselfenough at the present time to get as strong as you should. If you wouldonly walk about more. You might have ridden this afternoon with theothers. Dan and Sally both said they would come back with you as soon asyou wished, or if Vera had gone with you, she would have seen to you."
Mrs. Mollie Webster's tone was plaintive. She was apt to be plaintive intalking to Billy; it was so difficult to make him do what she wished. Itwas not that he opposed her, only that he did not seem to be convinced,or even aroused, by other people's opinions of him.
He now remained placidly staring up at the sky.
"Don't you think it foolish to worry over the future when one may nothave any future?" He asked this question in his usual impersonal way, andthen added, as if he were surprised at his own sudden conviction, "Do youknow I believe I might have a good deal of energy if anything everstrikes me as important enough to make me exert myself."
Vera laughed. "I wonder what that will ever be? But I wouldn't worry, ifI were you, Mrs. Webster. Billy will be a great writer, some day. He hassuch queer ideas and is so original."
Billy drew away his hand.
"Don't be tiresome and conventional, Vera, like everybody else," heremarked pettishly, like the spoiled boy he was. "I have told you a dozentimes, whenever you mention that idea of yours to me, that I don't wantto write. It must require a dreadful lot of work. Predict that future forBettina Graham; she yearns after authorship. I would rather talk thanwrite any day; it is so much easier."
Mrs. Webster flushed and looked annoyed, but Vera paid no attention toBilly's protests. She seldom did.
However, their conversation was interrupted by several Camp Fire memberswho rode up and dismounted by the side of Mrs. Burton who had stopped herreading and gotten up to greet them.
The girls had been away for the past two hours, leaving no one in campsave the group of four and Marie, who was busy in one of the tents.
Mr. Simpson had gone with them more as chaperon than guide. He rode infirst, attired in his rusty outfit, and looking much more himself than onhis first and last essay into the realms of fashion. Not once since theevening of Marie's refusal of him had he been seen in his "storeclothes."
He was followed by Bettina Graham and Howard Brent, and behind them cameSally Ashton and Terry Benton. Later, Alice and Gerry returned leadingtheir burros and talking to the two young men beside them, who had comeover with the others from the hotel for the ride. They were bothacquaintances of Howard Brent's.
"Where are Peggy and Ralph Marshall?" Mrs. Burton inquired of Bettinafive minutes later, seeing that they were the only two members of theriding party who had so far failed to appear. The young men were to stayfor supper and the girls had returned early in order to make thenecessary preparations for them. They had been promised a particularlysuperior feast as an evidence of the Camp Fire prowess.
Bettina frowned. "I don't know why Ralph and Peggy did not keep up withthe rest of us. Mr. Simpson insisted that we should all ride as closetogether as we conveniently could. But they kept dropping behind andgetting off their ponies to look at views. I don't understand Peggy'sintimacy with Ralph Marshall for the past few days. I did not think sheliked him much better than I did until just lately. Howard Brent is tentimes nicer and likes her ever so much, but she will have nothing to dowith him. He has to accept my poor society as a
substitute and he getsdreadfully bored with me. I know so little about outdoor things comparedto Peggy."
Bettina's tones were distinctly aggrieved. She and Peggy were suchdevoted friends that she was annoyed at Peggy's sudden friendship with aperson whom she thought so ordinary and uninteresting, as she consideredRalph.
"He and Peggy are about as unlike as two people ever were in this world,"she added crossly.
"Oh, Ralph is nice enough, 'Tall Princess;' you never were altogetherfair in your estimate of him. Some people in this world must befrivolous, and Ralph has never been up against a difficulty, or in factagainst anything that might develop his character," Mrs. Burton answered.
Polly Burton put her arm across Bettina's slender shoulders, giving her aslight squeeze. She was recalling how she used to feel as a girl whenBettina's mother's--then Betty Ashton--developed an interest in people,whom she--then Polly O'Neill--never felt worthy of her.
"Besides Peggy may do Ralph good," she continued. "Peggy is fine, andRalph--well, Ralph is not fine, Bettina, although I do not dislike him asyou do. I suppose they will be along in a few minutes. Peggy would notlike to shirk her share of the work tonight. If anything has happened,however, I think it may be Peggy who will have to look after Ralph."
Bettina then went away to take off her riding clothes and get into herceremonial Camp Fire dress. Mrs. Burton continued watching for Peggy'sreturn. She carefully avoided coming in contact with her sister, hopingthat Mrs. Webster would not observe Peggy's absence, as the camp was nowmore or less in an uproar with the girls' effort to get dinner and theirguests to render assistance, which usually consisted in getting in theway.
Polly tried not to be uneasy, as she thoroughly believed in Peggy'sability to take care of herself and other people as well. However, whennearly an hour passed and she and Ralph had not appeared, she began togrow uncomfortable.
About an eighth of a mile away there was a shelter among the trees whereMr. Simpson looked after the camp burros and provisions.
Thinking to ask him what should be done in order to find the wayfarers,Mrs. Burton slipped apart from the others and started along a narrow paththrough the woods.
But a few yards along the way she heard Peggy's and Ralph's voices andwaited for them to come up to her.
They were walking in single file and also leading their burros.
Peggy was in front. When Mrs. Burton caught sight of her, Peggy's eyeswere shining and her cheeks glowing with color after a fashion they hadwhen she was especially happy or excited.
She passed the bridle of her burro to Ralph.
"Take him to Mr. Simpson along with your's, won't you, Ralph, please, andthen come on to camp?" she asked.
Then she slid her arm into her aunt's.
"Don't be cross, Tante; you look dreadfully severe," she murmured,rubbing her cheek against Mrs. Burton's shoulder in a funny, boyish wayshe had had ever since she was a tiny girl. "I know we are late, butRalph and I have had an adventure since the others left. We did notintend to be so long in returning."