How Ethel Hollister Became a Campfire Girl | Page 9

with one stone. That's why."
Ethel saw a peculiar look come upon her father's face. She had noticed
it when he brought home his disreputable looking friends to dine and

when her mother objected. He turned to his daughter.
"Ethel," he said, "I wish you to help and make your Aunt Susan's visit
very pleasant. I would like you to take her out and show her everything,
and Grandmother must go along also. You will be doing me a great
favor if you will."
"Papa, I'll do my best to make it pleasant," replied the girl, kissing him.
Then, without looking at his wife, Mr. Hollister left the room, followed
by his daughter.
"So that was her object!" he exclaimed, as Ethel helped him on with his
coat. "What would Aunt Susan think were she to know? Your mother
wishes you to ingratiate yourself with my aunt so that she'll leave you
the lion's share of her money. Why, she'd probably leave my brother
John and me a remembrance anyway, and you and Kate would benefit
by it. Well, this is a strange world, my child. I wish your mother was
less politic, but I presume it is done for you, Ethel, so we mustn't be too
hard on her. She's a good mother to you, my dear, and has great
ambition for you. I only hope that you'll be happy. Never marry for
money alone--that's a sin--remember."
"I will, Papa," said the girl blushing. "I may never marry, and then you
and I can live together. Wouldn't we have fun?"
Aunt Susan arrived. Ethel gazed at her spellbound. She had the kindest
face she had ever seen, but oh! how old fashioned she looked. Her grey
hair was drawn tightly back into a cracker knot. In front she wore a
bunch of tight frizzes under a little flat velvet hat with strings,
something of the style of 1879. Her gown was of black made with a full
skirt trimmed with black satin bands. She wore an old-fashioned plush
dolman heavily beaded and covered with fringe. Her shoes were thick
like a man's, and to crown all she carried a fish-net bag. She didn't seem
to realize that she looked behind the times.
Ethel thought that her teeth and eyes were the loveliest that she had
ever seen on a woman of her age, for she was grandmother's senior.

She and Mrs. Hollister looked enough alike to be twins. They fell upon
each other's neck and wept. Ethel was mentally hoping that Aunt Susan
would purchase some modern clothes or that none of her fashionable
friends would meet her, for among them were some who would laugh
at the old lady, and the girl felt that she'd die of mortification and
anger,--not the girls with whom she was intimate and who came to see
her daily, but the girls who belonged to the exclusive set, and with
whom Ethel and her friends seldom went as they were much younger.
The day following Mrs. Hollister phoned for a taxi, and to Ethel's
horror she ordered an open one. Ethel was to take Aunt Susan and
Grandmother for a drive. She dared not demur. Had she not promised
her father to do everything for Aunt Susan? Could she hurt her dear
grandmother's feelings? And last of all, she would not admit to her
mother the fact that she was ashamed of Aunt Susan's appearance. No,
so she went.
As it was early in April and cool, upon this occasion Aunt Susan wore
ear tabs, over which she tied a thick, green veil, when it grew warmer
in the sunshine she removed the veil. They drove up Riverside to
Grant's Tomb, where Aunt Susan insisted upon getting out. Fortunately
Ethel encountered no one whom she knew, but as they were driving up
Lafayette Boulevard they passed Estelle Mason, one of her swell
friends. The chills ran up and down Ethel's spine, while she sat with her
lips compressed. The girl bowed and deliberately giggled. Even
grandmother, who looked lovely, grew red. But Aunt Susan seemed not
to notice it.
"I am a snob just like mother," thought the girl. "I ought to be ashamed
of myself. I'll never speak to Estelle again, the rude upstart! They say
she prides herself on her family, but I can't see that her good blood has
made a lady of her," and into Ethel's eyes came tears.
"Ethel, my dear," said Aunt Susan, "you're looking badly. Your cheeks
are flushed. Do you feel ill?"
"No, Aunt Susan," she replied. "I always grow red when riding in the
wind."

Grandmother had seen it all and pitied the girl.
"Deafness comes early in the Carpenter family," persisted Aunt Susan.
"Here, take this veil, dear, do, and tie it over your ears."
But