The Campfire Girls On The Field Of Honor Part 13

One evening two days later a little after the hour for bedtime at the farm, Mrs. Burton knocked softly at Miss Patricia's door.

Miss Patricia quickly opened it.

"You are ill, Polly Burton. Well, it is just what I have been expecting ever since the arrival of that strange man and woman. It seems to me that we had quite enough to do without entertaining guests. Besides, it strikes me as pure waste of energy, this riding about through the country with strangers when you should be at some _real_ work."

During her speech Miss Patricia had drawn the younger woman into her room, closed the door behind her and was now gazing at her severely but it must be confessed solicitously as well.

"But I am not ill, Aunt Patricia," Mrs. Burton protested as soon as she was allowed an opportunity to speak. "I only came in to have a talk with you about something important."

Aunt Patricia's bedroom was large and empty, for there was more s.p.a.ce at the old farm house than furniture. A great old-fas.h.i.+oned French bed had been spared from the general wreckage and upon this Mrs. Burton seated herself, drawing her feet up under her and her lavender dressing gown about her, since with so little heat in the house the bedrooms were uncomfortably cold.

There was but one solitary stiff-backed chair, in which Miss Patricia sat perfectly erect.

"Why not come here and sit beside me? There is plenty of room, and you will be more comfortable," Mrs. Burton urged.

Aunt Patricia shook her head.

"I am quite comfortable where I am. Moreover, Polly Burton, if I am an old woman and you no longer a young one, at the same time I am aware that you have every idea of trying to persuade me to some point of view of which you do not think I will approve. I have seen your methods before this evening. Thank you, I shall remain where I am."

Mrs. Burton laughed.

Aunt Patricia did look so uncompromising in a hideous smoke-gray dressing gown made without any attempt at decorations. Her small knot of hair was screwed into a tight coil at the back of her head.

Mrs. Burton's own hair had kept its beautiful dusky quality, it had the dark sheen of the hair of the mythical Irish fairies, for only in Anglo-Saxon countries are fairies of necessity fair. Tonight Mrs.

Burton's hair was unbound and hung about her shoulders as if she were a girl.

Fearing that Miss Patricia might regard her frivolous appearance with disfavor, she now began braiding it into one heavy braid.

"What ever it is you desire to say, I do wish you would begin, Polly, so that we both can go to bed," the elderly spinster remarked.

Mrs. Burton shook her head. "You are not in a good humor, are you, Aunt Patricia? But at least there is one thing you will be glad to hear: our guests, Monsieur Duval and Mrs. Bishop, are leaving our farm the day after tomorrow."

"A good riddance," Miss Patricia answered sharply.

Then observing that her companion had flushed and undoubtedly was annoyed by her plain speaking, Aunt Patricia's manner became slightly mollified.

"It is not that I have anything personal against your friends, Polly. I must say they have both endeavored to be very agreeable since their arrival and to give as little trouble as possible. But I told you on board s.h.i.+p I did not like the att.i.tude of that Frenchman toward you. It was no surprise to me when he discovered he had important business in this part of France. Of course it should not be necessary for me to remind you that you are a married woman, with your unfortunate husband serving his country in France many miles from here and also that you are chaperoning a group of young girls. I suppose you will simply tell me that I do not understand French manners, but that is neither here nor there, Polly Burton. Your Frenchman is polite to your friend, Mrs.

Bishop, I must confess he is also courteous to me; but I am obliged to repeat that his manner neither to Mrs. Bishop nor to me is in the least like his manner to you."

"Aunt Patricia, you are so ridiculous! Still I don't feel like laughing this time; you really are making me angry," Mrs. Burton answered.

"I have made a great many persons angry in my life, Polly. I cannot even flatter myself that this is the first time I have offended you. However, I feel compelled to speak the truth." Miss Patricia's tone remained imperturbable.

"But that is just the trouble, Aunt Patricia, you are not speaking the truth, although of course I know you don't realize it and I beg your pardon," Mrs. Burton argued. "But why do you allow yourself to acquire such prejudices and such foolish impressions? I simply refuse to discuss the suggestion you have just made. Please never speak of it to me again."

Ordinarily when the celebrated Mrs. Burton a.s.sumed an air of offended dignity such as she wore at present her world was apt to sue for pardon.

Miss Patricia revealed no such intention. As a matter of fact, as she remained resolutely silent and as Mrs. Burton had not yet explained the reason for her visit, it was she who had to resume the conversation in a conciliatory manner.

"I presume you won't approve then, Aunt Patricia, of what I wish to speak to you. Monsieur Duval has been ordered to southern France on some work for his government and has asked Mrs. Bishop and me to accompany him, because it is work in which he thinks we may be useful. You know the Germans have been sending back some of the French refugees whom they drove before them in their retreat. There are groups of five hundred at a time who now and then are sent over the border either from Germany or Switzerland. They are penniless and not only have no money or food or clothes; they do not know whether their families are living or dead and in any case have no way to reach them. The French government is to try to arrange some plan by which homes may be secured for these unfortunate people until they can communicate with their relatives or friends."

"An excellent idea, but I do not exactly see your connection with it,"

Miss Patricia returned.

Mrs. Burton shrugged her shoulders impatiently. In all her life she never remembered any one who had opposed her desires in exactly the same fas.h.i.+on Miss Patricia did. Then, a little ashamed of herself, she answered gently but firmly:

"My connection is that I am interested and that Mrs. Bishop and I have both decided to accompany Monsieur Duval. It is barely possible that we may be useful and able to offer a certain amount of advice. So many of the refugees are young women who have suffered impossible things and may require special care and shelter. Besides, I am very deeply anxious to see more of the country. We expect to travel south in the sector the Germans held three years ago. I will thus be able to find out how much restoration work has already been accomplished and how great a task remains. Moreover, Aunt Patricia dear, I have a personal errand. Surely you will think this important.

"You remember my talking to you of the old peasant whose granddaughter, Elsie, had been driven into exile. Except to me the old woman has never spoken of her loss. Now there is a possibility that Elsie has been sent back into France and I have promised Grand'mere to search for her.

"Moreover, Aunt Patricia, each village in the devastated districts has been ordered to prepare a list of names of the missing who disappeared at the time of the German retreat. These lists are to be turned over to Monsieur Duval. A committee is to be appointed near the frontier to take charge of the lists and see that the refugees get in touch with their own people as soon as possible. Don't you think this a wonderful scheme?"

As Mrs. Burton unfolded the plan which had been carefully worked out with a great deal of foresight and care, in her enthusiasm she forgot Miss Patricia's chilling att.i.tude. She had spent many hours during the brief visit at the farm of Mrs. Bishop and Monsieur Duval in the outline she had just explained.

Aunt Patricia continued to look unimpressed and uninspired.

"I told you before, Polly, that I had no idea of criticizing Monsieur Duval's efforts in behalf of his government. I know the situation you speak of is extremely deplorable. Still I fail to see any reason for your a.s.sistance. There is sufficient work for you in this immediate neighborhood. However, I presume you have definitely made up your mind,"

Miss Patricia concluded.

Before replying, Mrs. Burton waited a moment, watching for a sign of yielding in her companion. But as Miss Patricia gave none, she nodded her head.

"Yes, Aunt Patricia, I am going with Mrs. Bishop and Monsieur Duval, although I am sorry you do not approve of my making the trip. I won't be away more than two weeks and I feel I may be of greater service than by remaining here."

"You also feel that traveling about through the French country with a distinguished French politician and a woman author will be far more exciting than staying at the farm and doing your duty, Polly Burton,"

Miss Patricia added, allowing her acc.u.mulated anger to overflow at last.

"Do, please, whatever else you wish to add by way of camouflage, at least confess the truth. I presume it is your idea to leave me to look after the group of girls you undertook to chaperon in France?"

In spite of the fact that by this time, Mrs. Burton, whose amiability was never her strong point, was in as bad a temper as her antagonist, she had to confess to herself that in Miss Patricia's last speech the scales dropped in her favor.

"Why, yes, Aunt Patricia, that is what I wish you to do. But will it be such a serious responsibility? The work at the farm is so splendidly organized now and the girls are so deeply interested, I don't see why you should have any especial difficulty if you will just allow things to go on as they are at present."

Of her own free will Miss Patricia at this moment rose from her stiff chair and came and sat on the edge of the bed facing the younger woman.

She showed no sign of relaxing either physically or mentally, or of any softening in her rigid point of view.

"I wonder, Polly Burton, if you have any reason for believing that things usually go on in exactly the same fas.h.i.+on in this world, after one has carefully arranged that they should? Of course I shall do my best to look after the Camp Fire girls, although they do not like me and I do not understand them. There is no telling what may occur in your absence," Miss Patricia ended so gloomily that Mrs. Burton's eyes shone with merriment, although she carefully lowered her lids.

At the same instant, to her surprise, she felt Miss Patricia lean over and seize her by both shoulders. For a second she wondered if Aunt Patricia had made up her mind to shake her because of her rebellion.

Instead Miss Patricia added unexpectedly:

"Polly, my dear child, I really don't wish you to go on this wild goose chase, partly for the reasons I have given you, but also because I am afraid for you. You know the world is expecting another great German offensive this spring and no one understands why it has been delayed so long. Well, you must realize that as you travel farther south in France the line between the German and the French armies grows narrower and narrower. Only a few miles of victory and the Germans will again occupy their old line! It is possible you might arrive at some district at a crucial moment when a battle was beginning. Then the saints alone could preserve you!"

With the last few words of her long speech Miss Patricia reverted to her Irish brogue and her Irish faith.

Afterwards Mrs. Burton was glad to remember that, although Aunt Patricia certainly was not regarding her with affection at the moment, nevertheless, she slipped her arm about the elderly lady's hard and upright shoulders.

"You are a dear, Aunt Patricia! But please don't worry. We are not going into any dangerous neighborhoods. The drive will not begin for many weeks. In any case there will be no retreat. Yet indeed we mean to take every possible precaution and at no time will we be near the German line. It is good of you to think I am worth worrying over, but this time it is not necessary."

"Have you your husband's permission for this trip, Polly? I presume you have written Richard Burton of your new French friend?" Aunt Patricia demanded as a last forlorn hope.