The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World | Page 2

colors! Now Polly is
often pale as a ghost, and yet red always makes me recall her."
A few moments afterwards and Betty moved toward the front window
and stood there staring out into the street, too deep in thought to be
actually conscious of what she was doing.
She had changed in the past six months of struggle with poverty and
work beyond her strength. There were shadows under her gray eyes and
worried lines about the corners of her mouth. Instead of being slim as
formerly, she was undeniably so thin that even the folds of her delicate
crepe dress could not wholly disguise it.
It was not that Mrs. Ashton and Betty had spent this lonely day in their
old home, because their former friends had neglected them. Indeed,
they had had invitations to Thanksgiving dinners from half a dozen
sources. But Mrs. Ashton had not been well in several months and was
today too ill for her daughter to leave her. The two women were now
entirely alone in the house. One by one their boarders had deserted

them, and the previous week they had even felt compelled to give up
the old cook, who had been in the service of the Ashton family for
twenty years.
At first Betty saw nothing to attract her attention in the street
outside--not a single passer-by. It was odd how quiet and cold the
world seemed with her mother asleep in one of the far-away rooms
upstairs and other persons evidently too much interested in indoor
amusements to care for wandering through the dull town.
In another instant, however, the girl's attention was caught by the
appearance of a figure which seemed to spring up suddenly out of
nowhere and to stand gazing intently toward the Ashton house. It was
almost dark, and yet Betty could distinguish a young man, roughly
dressed, wearing no overcoat, with his coat collar turned up and a cap
pulled down over his eyes. Without being frightened, she was curious
and interested. Why should the man behave so queerly? He now
walked past the house and then turned and came back, not once but
several times. Evidently he had not observed the girl at the window. At
last however he gave up, and Betty believed that she saw him disappear
behind the closed cottage of the O'Neills. No longer entertained, she
prepared to leave the drawing room. It was too chilly to remain there
any longer. Moreover, studying the familiar objects she had loved so
long only made the thought of their surrender more painful. Betty once
more faced her three candles.
"Be strong as the fagots are sturdy; Be pure in your deepest desire; Be
true to the truth that is in you;"
"And--follow the law of the fire," she repeated with a catch in her
breath. Then with greater strength and resolution in her face she blew
out two of the candles, and picking up the third, started on her way
upstairs.
The next moment there came a quick, muffled ring at the front door
bell.
The girl hesitated; yet there was no one else in the house to answer the

bell, and only a friend, she thought, could come at this hour. Shading
her light from the wind with one hand she pulled open the door with the
other, already smiling with pleasure at the idea of thus ending her
loneliness.
Close against the door she discovered the young man whom she had
seen only a few moments before in the street.
He did not speak nor move immediately.
"What do you wish?" Betty demanded a trifle impatiently. The fellow
had both fists rammed deep into his pockets and had not the courtesy to
remove his hat. With a slight sense of uneasiness, Betty thought of
closing the door. The unexpected visitor kept edging closer toward her
and was apparently fumbling for something in his coat.
"Please tell me what it is you want at once," the girl repeated almost
angrily. "This is Mrs. Ashton's house if you are looking for it. My
mother and I are entirely alone." Having made this speech Betty
instantly recognized its stupidity and regretted it.
However the young man had at last succeeded in removing a small
oblong package from his pocket, which he silently thrust toward her.
On the wrapper in big letters, such as a child might have written, the
girl was able to decipher her own name. But while she was puzzling
over it, and before she could thank the messenger, he had hurried off.
Betty set her candle down on the lowest of the front steps and kneeling
before it rapidly undid her parcel. Inside the paper she discovered a
crudely hand-carved wooden box, and opening the lid, a blank sheet of
folded