The Carter Girls' Week-End Camp Part 6

It was a wonderful night. The sun had set in a glory of clouds while Oscar was still endeavoring to fill 'em up. The moon was full and "round as the s.h.i.+eld of my fathers." It was very warm with not a breeze stirring. Jeffry Tucker drew Nan down on the first fallen log they came to out of reach of the noise from the pavilion.

"It is fine to be able to leave the city for a while," he said, drawing in deep breaths of mountain air. "And now, Miss Nan Carter, I want you to tell me what was the reason for the S. O. S. that you sent out to me as plain as one pair of eyes can speak to another. I am a very old friend of your father, have known him ever since I was a little boy at school where I looked up to him and admired him as only a little boy can a big one. I see he is in poor health, at least in a nervous state, and I am wondering if there isn't something I can do. I don't want to b.u.t.t in--you understand that, don't you? But if I can help, I want to."

And then Nan Carter did just exactly what everybody always did: she took Jeffry Tucker into her confidence and told him all of the troubles of the family. He listened attentively.

"I see! The rent from the house in Richmond is the only income you can depend upon just now, and your mother wants to live at home again and have Miss Douglas make her debut in state. She has given up college for lack of funds, but she is to make her debut instead--a much more expensive pastime, I fancy. What does your father say?"

"Oh, that is the terrible part of it! We don't want anyone to appeal to father--he is sure to say that mother must do just as she chooses. He always has said that and he thinks that he is put on earth just to gratify mother's every wish. Mr. Tucker, please don't think mother is selfish--it isn't that--she is just inexperienced."

"Certainly not! Certainly not!" But that gentleman crossed his fingers and quickly possessed himself of a bit of green leaf, which was the Tucker twins' method, as children, when they made a remark with a mental reservation, the remark for politeness and the mental reservation for truth.

"You see, if father begins to think that mother wants things that it will take more money to buy, he will go back to work, and Dr. Wright says that nothing but a complete rest will cure him--rest and no worries."

"Can't Dr. Wright have a plain talk with your mother and explain matters to her?"

"Ye-e-s, but there is a kind of complication there, too. You see, Dr.

Wright had a horrid time at first trying to beat it into us that father was in a bad way. Helen kicked against his diagnosis like I don't know what, treated Dr. Wright mighty badly. He was fine about it and so patient that by and by Helen came to her senses, and began to appreciate all he had done for father, and she and Dr. Wright are real good friends. Now Helen is siding with mother and thinks that whatever mother wants to do she should do. She even wants Douglas to go to White Sulphur with mother for several weeks, right now in our very busiest season."

Mr. Tucker could not help laughing at the child by his side, so seriously discussing the trials of her family and now talking about their busiest season like some veteran hotel keeper.

"White Sulphur would mean an added expense, too," he suggested.

"Of course, and Helen says she will take her share of the summer's earnings and send mother. Helen is very generous and very impulsive, with no more idea of saving for winter than a gra.s.shopper."

"This is what I take it you want me to do: make your mother change her mind about going to White Sulphur and decide of her own accord that this winter it would be a mistake to bring Miss Douglas out to make her bow before Richmond society."

"Exactly! Oh, Mr. Tucker, if you only could without having father even know that mother is not having everything she wants!"

"I'll do my best. I may have to take Dr. Wright into consultation before I get through. Already a plan is surging in my brain."

"Let's fly back to the pavilion then and you start to work!"

Nan forgot to be shy in her eagerness to thank Mr. Tucker for his interest in their affairs and her hurry to get him launched in the undertaking of coercing her mother without that little lady's knowledge.

She wondered if she had spoken too plainly about Dr. Wright and Helen.

Nan was sentimental, as one of her poetic nature would be apt to be, and the budding romance that she thought she could spy springing up between Dr. Wright and her sister, far be it from her to blight. She felt sure Dr. Wright would feel it to be his duty to protect his patient from mental worry, but she was also sure that Helen would be quite impatient if Dr. Wright ventured to criticize her mother. What a relief it was to have unbosomed herself to this dear, kind Mr. Tucker, who understood her so readily and still did not seem to think her poor little mother was selfish or silly! (The crossing of fingers and holding something green had escaped her notice.)

"I won't tell Douglas I have said anything to him," she promised herself. "It would be difficult to explain that I caught his eye at the supper table and he divined that I was in trouble. That is the truth, though, no matter how silly it sounds."

She wondered what the plan was that had begun to surge but she determined to leave it to Mr. Tucker. That gentleman, whatever his idea of attack, did not immediately approach her mother but made his way to the middle of the pavilion where he awaited his chance to break in on a dance with Page Allison, his daughters' friend.

"She may be part of his plan! Who knows? At any rate, I believe he is going to get us out of the trouble somehow."

As Douglas and Lewis left the pavilion they took the path straight up the mountain. "Let's go this way and shake the crowd for a little while," suggested Lewis.

"But we mustn't be long. Helen will have too much entertaining to do.

We can't get it out of our heads that we must treat these boarders as though we were having a house-party."

"Well, I reckon that's the reason you have been so successful. I have heard some of the fellows say that they never hear the c.h.i.n.k of coin here. It really seems like a house-party."

"I am so glad, but I am glad of the c.h.i.n.k of coin, too."

"But, Douglas, I did not bring you out here to talk about boarders and coin--I have got something else to say. Bill and I have just been waiting until Cousin Robert and Cousin Annette got back because we couldn't leave you without any protection----"

"Leave us! Oh, Lewis!"

"Do you mind really, Douglas?"

"Mind? Why, I can't tell you how much I mind!"

"We know we have no business staying here indefinitely and we feel we must get to work. We are going to enlist for the Mexican border. We have got over our grouch against Uncle Sam for firing us from West Point and now that he needs us, we are determined to show him we are ready to serve him in any capacity. You know we are right, don't you?"

"Ye-e-s, but----"

By that time Lewis had taken possession of Douglas' hands and with a voice filled with emotion, he said:

"I can't bear to leave you, but now Cousin Robert is here he will make it safe for you. I have tried to help some----"

"Oh, and you have! We couldn't have done a thing without you and Bill."

"I don't know about that. I believe there is no limit to what you Carter girls can do--but, Douglas--honey--before I go to Mexico--I--I just have to tell you how much I love you. I don't mean like a cousin--I'm not such close kin to you after all--I mean I love you so much that the thought of leaving you is agony. You knew all the time that it was no cousin business, didn't you, Douglas?"

"Why, Lewis, I never thought of such a thing. You are almost like my brother," and Douglas devoutly wished the moon would hurry up and get behind a big black cloud that was coming over the mountain.

"Brother much! I'm not the least little bit like a brother. Bill's got sisters and I don't believe he is bothering about leaving them one-tenth as much as he is leaving Tillie Wingo. Why, honey, ever since I can remember I have been meaning to get you to marry me when we both grew up. Of course, I can't ask you to marry me now as I haven't a piece of prospect and will have to enlist in the ranks and work up, but I mean to work up fast and be so steady that I'll be a lieutenant before Carranza and Villa can settle their difficulty. Won't you be engaged to me so I'll have something to work for until I can see you again?"

"Engaged to you! Why, Lewis, I--I--how can I be when it is so sudden?

You never told me before that you cared for me the least little bit."

"Told you before! Ye G.o.ds and little fishes! I've been telling you for pretty near eighteen years."

"Well, I never heard you!"

"Why don't you say you don't give a hang for me and let me go?"

"But, Lewis, I give a whole lot of hangs for you and I don't want you to go."

"Oh, I know the kind of hangs you give: just this brother and sister business," and the young man dropped the girl's hands.

Douglas felt like crying, but Lewis was so absurd she had to laugh. What time had she to think about getting engaged? She felt as though the whole world rested on her young shoulders. Here was her mother wanting her to make a debut, and Helen wanting to spend on a silly trip the pitiful little money they had begun to save from their boarding camp.

And now Lewis Somerville and Bill Tinsley, the brawn and sinew of their undertaking, suddenly deciding that they must enlist and hike out for the Mexican border!

"We must go back to the pavilion," she said wearily. Her voice sounded very tired and she stumbled a little as she turned to go down the path.

"Now, Douglas, I have distressed you," and Lewis was all thoughtfulness and consideration. "I didn't mean to, honey--I just want you to say you love me the way I love you."

"And I can't say it, because I never thought of your caring for me in any different way. You are the best friend I have in the world."

"Well, that is something and I am going to keep on being it. Maybe when I come back from Mexico you will think differently. You will write to me, won't you?"