*CHAPTER VI*
*THE BOX PARTY*
The group of people entered the box nearest the stage a few momentsbefore the curtain was to ascend.
In the effort to find places there was the usual brief confusion; in theend the youngest of the girls was seated in the chair next thefootlights, with two other girls in the adjoining chairs, the chaperonand a fourth girl behind them, while a little in the background werethree young men.
"Mother, do take the outside chair; I am afraid you will not be able tosee properly, Bettina Graham suggested.
"Besides, Mrs. Graham, we wish the handsomest member of our box party tooccupy the most conspicuous place."
Betty Graham arose to change places with her daughter.
"Never mind, David, I am perfectly willing to allow you to talk toBettina rather than to me, without such arrant flattery which is not aptto make you popular. Besides, as I have not seen Mrs. Burton's new playand am deeply interested, I do not wish to be interrupted. I am afraidyou young persons may wish to talk."
"There will be little danger of conversation once the play is started,"a third voice interposed, "I have seen it three times and found it asabsorbing the last time as I did the first."
Bettina Graham turned toward the speaker.
"I am glad you were able to come with us to-night, Mr. Burton. Do youremember that you were the first person in New York to mention, 'A Tidein the Affairs' to me? In any event, mother, you need not fear we shallbe guilty of such bad manners as to attempt to talk while theperformance is going on even if we dared. It is odd that I don't knowthe story of the play, but then I have done my best not to find out soas not to affect my pleasure."
Dressed in a new evening gown of pale green chiffon, which had been hermother's gift since her arrival in New York, with a silver girdle and afillet of silver wound about her fair hair, her cheeks flushed withexcitement, Bettina Graham had never been more beautiful.
At least this was the impression she made upon two of the three youngmen who were members of the same party; the third was too absorbed inhis own train of thought and in his excitement over seeing Mrs. Burtonact for the first time to pay any particular attention to any one of thefour girls. Such interest as Allan Drain had expressed had been forMrs. Graham, who was his especial friend.
As Robert Burton had seen Bettina only four times before this evening,his opinion was hardly of the same critical value as David Hale's, whomBettina had met and known intimately several years before in France.
Robert Burton, however, had never made any effort to find out whyBettina Graham had attracted him since the first moment of theirunconventional meeting. To analyze his own wishes had never been hishabit. Accepting her half laughing challenge, he straightway had gone tocall upon the Mr. Richard Burton, who was her host, and discovered himto be the Captain Burton he had known in France.
Telling the story of his accidental meeting with Bettina he had asked tobe properly introduced and Captain Burton had been glad to agree. Heknew something of Lieutenant Robert Burton's war record and also thathis father was a prominent New York lawyer; but particularly he likedthe young fellow's straightforward fashion of setting out to accomplishhis design.
Twice in the past week Robert Burton had called to see Bettina and beenintroduced to her mother and Mrs. Burton. This evening he had beeninvited to be a member of their theater party. For the same pleasureDavid Hale had come from Washington.
"Some night you hope to be sitting in the theater like this, Allan, andhave Mrs. Burton produce your first play. I wish you luck. Suppose inthe spring you make us a visit at my 'House by the Blue Lagoon'. Mrs.Burton will be with me, resting, and perhaps we may be able to persuadeher to read the play you are working on this winter. I shall alwaysfeel responsible for the loss of your poems,[*] although Mary Gilchristwas actually the guilty person," Mrs. Graham declared, leaning a littleback in her chair and turning her head to speak to the young man behindher. "I still hope some day to make things up to you, or perhaps Mrs.Burton may."
[*] See "Camp Fire Girls at Half Moon Lake."
Allan Drain flushed. He was a tall fellow with strong features andreddish gold hair which he wore fairly long. A student of medicine, hewas in reality only interested in writing. He had met the Sunrise CampFire girls, their guardian and Mrs. Graham during the past winter whichthey had spent in the Adirondacks.
"You have fully repaid me for any loss by your friendship," he answered,with a slight huskiness of voice. "To hope that Polly O'Neill Burtonwill ever be interested in my poor efforts at play writing is too muchto expect, yet if it is possible I shall come for the visit with thegreatest pleasure. There is nothing I should so enjoy."
A hush at this moment preceded the raising of the curtain. Out of sightof the audience an orchestra began the strains of an Irish melody famoushalf a century ago.
A suppressed quiver of excitement passed through the small group of CampFire girls.
In her seat nearest the stage Sally Ashton bit her lips to hide theirtrembling, feeling her cheeks suddenly flame. She had been scarcelyaware of the conversation going on about her, or that the eyes of anumber of persons in the audience had been admiringly turned toward her.She wore a dress of rose-colored net with no trimming save a broad satingirdle of the same shade.
Vera and Alice Ashton were in white, Mrs. Graham in an amber satin witha string of topazes about her throat, her wonderful auburn hairexquisitely arranged, her skin of a beautiful warm clearness, was morelovely than the girl of years before.
Waiting to see the curtain rise she was the Betty Ashton of long ago,who had been one of the first persons to believe in the genius of thegirl, Polly O'Neill, always her dearest friend.
"I have not seen Polly act for so long a time, Bettina, I am almost asexcited as if this was her debut night. Yet Polly is sure enough of herlaurels these days!" Mrs. Graham whispered.
Then the curtain rose.
The first scene disclosed a small cabin set on a green hillside with aminiature lake in front.
A girl in a green skirt, a white blouse and a green velvet bodice isseen seated on the grass near the water. She is slowly crooning a lovesong with the words scarcely audible.
Finally becoming impatient, she rises and wanders about, a frown on herface, a pathetic droop to her slim figure.
"Mrs. Burton looks about sixteen, doesn't she? Younger than any one ofyou!" David Hale murmured.
Bettina paid not the slightest attention to his remark, and scarcelyheard it, as at this moment a second figure entered the stage, a boy whois about to set forth on a journey; one recognizes this from his costumebefore any words are exchanged. He has come to say good-by.
The first act is devoted to their farewell. One learns that the girl isto be left behind with an old aunt who has been her foster mother, whilethe boy goes to the United States to seek a fortune for them both.
"Mother," Bettina said softly when the curtain had fallen, "don't youthink Tante makes the parting between herself and her lover too tragic?It seems to me perfectly natural and there is no special reason forbeing unhappy, yet just because of her gift for expressing emotion sheseems the most pathetic figure in the world as he goes away and leavesher."
Mrs. Graham smiled and shook her head, but made no effort to conceal thetears in her eyes.
"Perhaps you are right, Bettina, I don't know. Polly did not believeyou Camp Fire girls would care for her play. It begins in a moresentimental age than the present one. Fifteen years elapse, remember,between the first and the second act. Perhaps the modern girl would notregard the separation from her lover so seriously; she has moreinterests, more occupations, and sometimes I wonder if love may not meanless to her; I am not sure.
"The girl whom Polly portrays is left utterly alone, save for the oldwoman, who, we have learned, is harsh and querulous. She has only herdream and her affection."
Talking to Bettina alone, Mrs. Graham discov
ered that, as the applausedied away, the other members of the box party were listening to herlittle speech.
"I agree with Bettina," Alice Ashton interposed.
"See here, Mrs. Graham, if you believe in sentiment don't look for itamong girls these days," Robert Burton protested. "If you want to knowthe kind of impression that parting scene of Mrs. Burton's inspires, askany one of the three fellows in your party to-night. If I cared for agirl and was compelled to leave her for an indefinite length of time, Itell you I should expect her to feel as the heroine does in this play.If she didn't feel that way, I would not believe in her love."
Mrs. Graham arose.
"I'll leave you to argue the point without me. I want to speak to Mrs.Burton for a few moments and she asked that no one else come behind thescenes until the performance is over."
Immediately David Hale slipped into the chair beside Bettina, whileRobert Burton moved forward to talk with Sally Ashton who seemed apartfrom the others. Allan Drain joined Alice and Vera.
"It cannot be possible, Bettina, that you are not returning toWashington to spend the winter," David Hale remarked in a low tone ofvoice. "Your mother spoke of it to me and then said perhaps you wouldexplain to me yourself."
Bettina flushed, as the subject was not an altogether happy one and shewas a little annoyed at its introduction at this instant.
"Why no, I believe not, anyhow not for some time. A group of theSunrise Camp Fire girls has taken a little apartment together in NewYork and we are planning to work and study here. We are not to be withour Camp Fire guardian. In fact we are not even to have a chaperon withus permanently. You remember Miss Patricia Lord; one is not apt toforget Miss Patricia. She has a house near Boston and is to appear nowand then to see how we are getting on. Alice Ashton and Sally, and VeraLagerloff made the plan for the winter originally and are allowing mylittle English Camp Fire girl and me to join them. I am to do somestudying, but what I shall like much more, I am to work in one of thesettlement houses on the East Side. I shall try to organize new CampFire clubs, as I don't believe there are many of them in thatneighborhood."
David Hale stared at his companion incredulously.
"You cannot mean you prefer a winter of this kind to making your debutin Washington, where you would be invited everywhere! I don't supposeit occurs to you, or that it makes any difference, but I am bitterlydisappointed?"
"Oh, you will have mother and Marguerite Arnot who will more thancompensate for my absence. You know I long have hated the prospect ofhaving to come out in society. I am too serious, I suppose, although Irealize this is not an attractive trait of character. But, David Hale,do you recall how much you used to talk to me of your ambitions for thefuture in the days we knew each other in France? Well, I don't see why Iam not allowed an ambition of my own even if I am not gifted. I havealways been more interested in the Camp Fire organization than the otherSunrise Camp Fire girls. Now I see an opportunity to enlarge itsinfluence along with other work I am undertaking. Mother did notapprove at first, but she is an angel and has finally agreed. You seeshe was once upon a time a Camp Fire girl herself."
At Bettina's indifference to his point of view David frowned.
"Well, your mother is right; the new girl is hard to understand, even ifone happens to belong to her generation; that is, hard for a fellow likeme! I--"
Bettina was not paying a great deal of attention. In the alcove at thefront of the box Sally Ashton and Robert Burton were laughing andtalking together, Sally wearing her usual demure expression which couldchange to sudden gaiety. Evidently her companion admired her.
Her mother's return to her place and David Hale's vacating it,distracted Bettina's attention; moreover, the bell was ringing toannounce the second act of the drama.
Fifteen years have gone by, but now for the first time the traveler, whohad departed as a boy, is returning to the Irish village high up amongthe lakes and hills.
The report has come back that he has become wealthy and the village ispreparing to welcome him. Hovering on the outskirts of the crowd onediscovers the girl, no longer young, with whom he had parted many yearsbefore. She has not heard from him in a decade. Still she isinterested and anxious to know if he will remember her, or if by anychance he may still care a little. She never has forgotten. Somemisunderstanding may have divided them, which a few words, a touching ofthe hands, a meeting of the eyes may explain.
The hero returns. He has forgotten and even fails to recognize the girlwho represented his youthful romance, is shocked by the change in herwhen she recalls herself to his memory.
At the close of the act she goes back to the little cabin and the lakeand the green hillside, where she has lived alone these ten years, theold aunt having died.
The pathos of the years of waiting has departed. The meeting in thevillage has ended an old illusion.
In the third and last act the heroine has established herself in apicturesque little house in the town, where she has gathered about hermany friends. She is witty and gay, her clothes are pretty andfashionable. In the lonely years she has read a great deal and hasinterested herself in politics. The friends and admirers she might havehad, save for her faithfulness to a memory, are discovered around her,among them the man, who so easily had forgotten his plighted word. Inthe end he proposes a second time and is refused.
"Love has no value without faith and I have no faith in you;" with thisline the drama closes.
"The play is delightful and Polly reveals all her gifts of laughter andtears, nevertheless it leaves one dissatisfied," Mrs. Graham insisted,as she allowed Allan Drain to help her with her coat. "Allan, in yournew play give us a happier ending."
"My dear mother, what a sentimentalist you are! I could not imagine amore delicious climax. My sex is avenged!" Bettina replied. "Come, letus go back behind the scenes and offer our congratulations!"
"My Dear Mother, What a Sentimentalist You Are."]