CHAPTER IV
THE COMPACT
"Girls!" exclaimed Ruth, who lay curled up on the foot of her bed in apale blue silk kimono. "I feel like offering a libation to the StormKing to-night for sending us that squall."
"Why?" inquired Grace, who was not gifted with an Oriental imagination.
"Because, if there had been no storm, there would have been no CountessSophia," replied her friend.
"She is hard to understand, but she is so beautiful, so gentle and sonoble," observed Barbara.
"And she kissed me!" cried Mollie.
"As, yes, Mollie darling, she had a fearful crush on you," laughed Ruth."We are already green with jealousy. It's those golden baby curls ofyours that do the business, I suppose. First, it was the lovely Mrs.Cartwright you won from us at Newport. Now your cerulean eyes havehypnotized the Countess Sophia. What shall we do to her, girls?"
"Destroy her beauty!" cried Barbara. "Cut off her curls and give her twoblack eyes."
The three girls pounced on Mollie. There was a real tom-boy romp whichended in a burst of joyous laughter. For Miss Sallie's familiar rap-tapwas heard on the door. Her voice was raised in mild protest:
"Children, remember that this is a hotel."
The girls subsided.
"Do you suppose it would be good form to call on the countess to-morrow,when we met her only this afternoon?" asked Ruth, as soon as she hadregained her breath.
"It would be rather rushing things," answered Barbara.
"If you will be good, and promise not to lay violent hands on me again,I will tell you something," Mollie volunteered.
"We promise," cried three voices in unison.
"The countess is going to ask us to luncheon to-morrow. She whispered itto me just before we left her villa this afternoon."
"Oh, joy!" exclaimed Ruth. "Do you mean that she intends to invite theentire party--the De Lancey Smythes and all that aggregation?"
"No," Mollie declared, answering Ruth's previous question. "The countessintends to invite only Miss Sallie, Mr. Stuart and the 'AutomobileGirls.'"
"But what are we to do about Maud Warren?" queried Ruth. "Father haspromised Mr. Warren we would help him out with Maud. Here we are alreadytrying to shake her off. If we are going to see a great deal of thecountess, how shall we manage? I am sure the stern old dowager wouldnever endure Maud's grown up manner for a moment. And Maud won't give upthose De Lancey Smythes."
"I think it would be a good idea to take the Countess Sophia into ourconfidence, if we have an opportunity," suggested Barbara. "It would notbe a betrayal of trust. Because what we wish to accomplish is topersuade Maud Warren to see the difference between really well-bredpeople like the countess and those who pretend to be. I think theSmythes are pretenders, the mother at least. She seems to be continuallyon the alert. I watched her yesterday, and that high and mighty air thatshe assumes is a cloak to hide her real character. It seems to me thatshe and that Duval man have some sort of secret understanding. Ithink----" Barbara paused.
"Well, Sherlock, what do you think?" queried Ruth impertinently. "Andwhen you unearth her family skeleton may I go along and play DoctorWatson?"
"How ridiculous you are, Ruth," returned Barbara, laughing. "I suppose Ideserve to be teased. I'm always suspecting people's motives. But reallyI do believe that that Mrs. Smythe has a hurtful influence over Maud.Mr. Warren doesn't like to have Maud with her, either. You heard the wayhe spoke this morning."
"Yes," exclaimed Ruth. "We also heard Miss Maud defy him. She isdreadfully spoiled, and we shall be obliged to handle her verycarefully. If she even suspects we are trying to reform her, she willshun our beneficial society as she would the plague."
"I believe I could bear that misfortune," sighed Mollie.
But Barbara was serious. "I am truly sorry for Maud Warren," shedeclared. "I think she is just like a blind person. She can't seeanything that is good and true. She thinks of nothing but money, titlesand sham society. I don't see how we can do her any good."
"Well, her father thinks we can," Grace added. "He told me on our wayback from the launch party, that he hoped we would be friends with Maud,for she needed the companionship of sensible girls. He said that hehoped she would take more interest in outdoor sports, and drop some ofthe newfangled society ideas she has adopted."
"I'll tell you a secret," said Barbara slowly. "I think that Maud wasimpressed with the Count de Sonde, or rather his title."
"And the count seemed to be equally impressed with Maud," interposedRuth. "I believe he is one of those foreigners with no money, and plentyof title that one reads about in the Sunday papers."
"Some of them don't have even the title," said Mollie with a worldly airthat contrasted oddly with her baby face. "They are just waiters whopretend that they are real counts."
"Hear, hear," cried Ruth, "Mollie the worldly wise is holding forth!"
"Well, you needn't make fun of me, Ruth," said Mollie stoutly. "It's alltrue. I read about one last week who married a rich American girl. Shefell in love with his title. After she had married him she found outthat his name was Jean, something or other, that he had been a waiter,and was wanted by the police for forgery. Just think girls howdreadfully she must have felt!"
"I should say so," averred Grace, who always championed Mollie's cause.
"What's your opinion of the Count de Sonde, Barbara?" asked Ruth.
"He didn't impress me favorably," replied Bab. "He's too artificial, andtoo conceited. He reminds me of a comic opera Frenchman. He looks asthough he were ready to run about on his toes and shrug his shoulders atthe slightest pretext."
"That exactly describes him," Ruth agreed. "I imagine him trilling asilly French song:
"'Bonjour, mesdames! bonjour, messieurs! Je suis le Comte de Sonde!'"
Ruth bowed low, first to Mollie and then to Grace. She shrugged herdainty shoulders in a perfect imitation of the count.
"But what about Monsieur Duval?" queried Mollie.
"He's the backbone of the little count," said Barbara. "He's the brainsand strength of the company. If there is any little game to be played atPalm Beach--look out for Mr. Duval!"
"But do you suppose they really have a game to play?" persisted Ruth.
Bab shook her head. "I don't know. I suppose I am only joking," sheanswered. "But did you notice how often Mr. Duval came to the count'srescue? He helped him out of a number of tight places. Of course it isridiculous to suppose those men have any scheme afoot. They arecertainly not thieves, like Harry Townsend at Newport. I wonder whatthey are after?"
"Oh, nothing, Bab. You are too mysterious," protested Mollie. "I thoughtwe were talking about Maud Warren and how we could best make friendswith her."
"Girls, let's enter into a solemn compact," Ruth suggested, lowering hervoice to a whisper in order to persuade the other girls to listen.
"What kind of compact, child?" Bab demanded.
"A compact to do our best for Maud Warren," said conscientious Ruth. "Itell you, girls, it won't be easy, for Maud isn't our kind. And you knowhow we like to keep together and don't care much for any outside girl. Iknow we shall have to make a good many sacrifices. But Maud must not runaround with the Smythes and that little French count all the time. Let'smake a compact to do our best for Maud. Come, join hands."
The four girls clasped hands. They could not foresee into whatdifficulties this compact would lead them.
Tap! tap! Miss Sallie knocked again at the door.
"Go to bed at once; it is very late," she ordered.
Ruth dreamed that night that the four girls were sitting in a circlewith the Countess Sophia von Stolberg. They had hold of one another'shands. They were repeating their vow about Maud. Suddenly they wereinterrupted. Monsieur Duval appeared in their midst. The Countess Sophiasaw the Frenchman. She gave a cry of terror and fainted.
Ruth awakened with a start. The night was still. The moon shone brightlythrough the open windows and the air was filled with the perfume ofmagnolia blosso
ms.
"I wonder what the Countess Sophia's history is?" thought Ruth sleepily,as she dropped into slumber once more.
At her villa, looking across the moonlit lake, the beautiful youngcountess was at that moment writing a letter. It was a long letter,penned in close fine handwriting. When she had finished she slipped theletter into an envelope, which she addressed carefully to "M. Le ComteFrederic de Sonde."