Polly believed in destiny, or at least in her own destiny as we all should, but now and then, fear taking possession, her faith was less secure.
There had been a few of these hours in the past six weeks while she had prayed, hoped and willed one thing, but almost always she had believed in it with her whole heart. Waking at daylight on this morning of the thirteenth of August and seeing a particularly wonderful sunrise, a curious wave of conviction had swept over her. To-day she would see her desire fulfilled!
Truly the day was a beautiful one, a day for all lovely dreams to come true, and as Polly walked through the fields, heavy and golden with the ripened grain, the Irish buoyancy of her temperament a.s.serting itself, made each object appear an omen of good luck--the sight of a bluebird meant happiness of course, the flight of a carrier pigeon the arrival of a longed-for message. Weary finally of thinking delightful things Polly fell to reciting poetry aloud. As a small girl and in spite of her mother"s and sister"s protests she had made up her mind to be an actress and had devoted all her spare hours to the memorizing of poetry and plays. Therefore there were many hours when she loved dearly to be alone just in order to repeat some of the lines over and over, trying to read into them their deeper meaning, without an audience to be either bored or amused.
Particularly had she loved and learned the strange, musical Irish poetry of William Butler Yeats. Perhaps because the Irish believed in fairies Polly did too, although she called her fairies by other names.
Now all alone in the yellow fields she recited the closing lines of "The Land of Heart"s Desire," doing her level best to put into it some little portion of its mystical beauty. She was not altogether successful because she was only a girl without any training or knowledge of her art, but perhaps because of her youth she was less afraid and filled with a sincerer enthusiasm.
"The wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away While the faeries dance in a place apart, Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, Tossing their milk-white arms in the air; For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing Of a land where even the old are fair, And even the wise are merry of tongue; But I heard a reed of Coolaney say, When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung, The lonely of heart is withered away."
And then, after having repeated her verse three times and feeling that she was no nearer than at first to expressing its beauty, Polly found herself through the fields and after pa.s.sing by a small stretch of woodlands would be out on the high road and therefore no longer alone.
And here, just at the entrance to the woodland, Polly"s foot struck against something, and stooping over she picked up from the ground the answer to her desire, not the expected answer but one that would do as well in its stead.
Naturally she forgot to be reasonable or sensible, forgot everything save the good luck that seemed to come as an answer to prayer.
At the village post-office she did not even think to ask for her mail, although stopping long enough to write a short letter to her mother, enclosing a portion of her discovery and asking that it be used to purchase a present for the new English cousin about whom her mother had lately written so much.
Neither was there a confession made either to Mollie or Betty or any one else at camp that evening, since it was far pleasanter to appear cloaked in mystery; but Polly secured peace for herself by bringing back with her a large basket of peaches to glorify their supper party, and then later that evening quietly presented Betty with the amount in full advanced for Nan Graham"s expenses. She said nothing about the way in which the money had been obtained and although Betty was curious to know, good taste forbade her asking questions.
CHAPTER XVII
THE SUSPICION
Miss McMurtry and Betty had been alone together in one of the tents for the past half hour. Not that this was in any way remarkable or at first excited any suspicion, for the young woman and girl had become good friends in the past weeks, often consulting with one another concerning questions of camp life. Indeed Betty had been chiefly responsible for bestowing on their guardian her pretty new t.i.tle, although the name had really developed from the suggestion first made by Mollie O"Neill and later turned into a jest by her sister.
"Our Lady of the Hill" was now Miss McMurtry"s t.i.tle as guardian of the Sunrise Camp. But because the expression was too long a one for ordinary conversation, "Donna," the soft Italian word for "lady," was more often subst.i.tuted.
"I don"t think I can be mistaken, Donna," Betty now returned seriously, her face flushed and her gray eyes unusually grave. "I don"t want you to think I would make trouble in camp for all the world, as it is all probably my fault, but Esther was with me and has the same impression I have. She thought I ought to speak to you as a kind of warning to the other girls. I wish you would let me call Esther."
Miss McMurtry agreed, frowning uncomfortably and resting her head on one hand. Since outdoor life gives one whatever help is needed, she had grown far less thin with her months of fresh air, her figure was less angular, her expression less learned and her whole manner more like a girl"s than an old maid"s. Possibly the gracious dignity of her new t.i.tle was also worth living up to.
"I must not be in too much of a hurry or too severe," she afterwards murmured to herself, "but from the first I have been dreadfully afraid of something like this."
Esther was discovered sitting with the other girls in a group surrounding Polly, who had been reading aloud an old folk tale while the others worked at their various hand crafts. Betty apologized for the interruption in leaning over to whisper to Esther, but half guessed at Polly"s irritation as they hurried off together. However, if it could be prevented, Polly was to hear of their trouble last of all!
And Polly, although not acknowledging it, was annoyed, for lately Betty and Esther had seemed more intimate than she could ever have dreamed they might be. Not that Betty appeared to feel any affection for the older girl, but having heard through her of her father"s illness they had been drawn together by Esther"s constant sympathy and devotion, and although Mr. Ashton was now better Betty had not yet forgotten. Of course Polly was not jealous, that would be too small minded and absurd, only it was curious for her dearest friend to be sharing her secrets with other persons than herself.
Inside the tent with their guardian, Esther was being more explicit in her explanation than Betty had been.
"You see," she said, "I understand better about temptations of that kind than Betty, because I have been brought up so differently, so when the letter came I begged her to be particularly careful, and we hid it together in a small lock-box in our tent. The strange thing is that the letter is still there and the outside envelope, but the envelope in which the package was enclosed I found crumpled up near Nan"s cot when I was cleaning this morning."
Miss McMurtry shook her head more cheerfully. "That isn"t enough evidence, children, to use against any human being! And just because this poor Nan has one story against her, don"t you think we ought to be especially careful about adding another?"
Instead of replying at once Betty looked more miserable instead of less, and then biting her lips for an instant answered steadily:
"Yes, you are quite right, Donna, and we won"t say another word about the loss. I am sorry and I confess a little disappointed, for father wished us to have a party in honor of his being better, but the party couldn"t make us nearly as happy as this story would make us unhappy once we allowed it to be told."
Miss McMurtry caught Betty"s hand and kissed it unexpectedly. Betty was spoiled, accepting love and good fortune too much as a matter of course, but when it came to a question either of generosity or good breeding Betty Ashton could always be counted upon.
However, Esther Clark was not so persuaded. "I am afraid Betty may be angry with me and that you will be more uncomfortable, Miss McMurtry,"
she added after a moment"s hesitation. "But this is not all the evidence we have. You see Mollie told us yesterday that just the next day after we girls made our trip to town and returned with the mail, she came across Nan in our tent with Betty"s bunch of keys in her hand. It is true that Betty had left her keys out on the table, but I don"t see what Nan could have wanted with them?"
"She told Mollie that she wanted to peep in my trunk to look at a dress I have because she wanted some day to make herself one like it and did not know just how," Betty interposed, using no effort to hide the tears that had been gathering in her gray eyes and were now coursing down her cheeks. "Oh dear me, I do wish I had not brought the wretched money into camp, for I promised Polly I would not put temptation in Nan"s way and she will be dreadfully cross with me if she hears!"
"I don"t think you should blame yourself, dear," Miss McMurtry interrupted, drawing Betty closer to her and looking almost ready to cry herself as they both turned toward Esther for advice. For somehow Esther might have a shy and awkward personality and not seem of much importance when things were going happily, yet in sorrow or difficulty, insensibly her gravity and unselfishness counted.
"Don"t you think we had better send for Nan and let her offer us some explanation," Esther unhesitatingly suggested, "perhaps she will be able to make everything clear?"
Miss McMurtry and, Betty were both silent and Betty moved quietly toward the opening of the tent. "You really will have to let me go away," she pleaded, "for I can"t stand up and accuse one of our own Camp Fire girls of having--" Her sentence remained unfinished, but Miss McMurtry was able to catch hold of her skirt. "You can"t leave us in the lurch, Betty, child, though I do understand your feelings, you must stand by to help Esther and me out. Certainly we shall not accuse poor Nan of anything, merely ask her a question. Esther, will you find her for us?"
Betty smiled tearfully as Esther went away on the errand, wondering if this time Miss Martha feared to trust her.
Ten minutes pa.s.sed and then fifteen and yet neither Esther nor Nan appeared. Finally, however, Esther returned looking unusually angry and crestfallen. "Nan says she won"t come until Polly has finished the story she is reading, and that probably may take another half hour," she reported. "I told her that you wished her particularly, Miss McMurtry, and waited as long as I could, but she showed no sign of obeying."
"That isn"t true, or at least it is only half true, which is as bad," a voice declared at this instant at Esther"s elbow, and Nan Graham pushed her way saucily into the tent, rather pleased at making serious Esther flush with displeasure. But at the sight of Betty, whom she always admired, and their guardian, whom she a little feared, her expression became less bold and, indeed, before any one spoke the girl"s face had a strange look of guilt. Why else should she toss her head and bridle so unnecessarily, why stare into Miss McMurtry"s eyes with her own hard and defiant, even while her lips trembled with nervousness?
"I haven"t done anything; what do you want with me?" she asked quickly.
"No, Nan, we only want to ask you a question," Miss McMurtry answered, speaking as gently as she knew how. "Would you mind telling us what you were doing with Betty Ashton"s keys the other afternoon and how you happened to get hold of them?"
"I didn"t have her keys, that"s a lie," Nan returned fiercely, taken off her guard and using a word she had always been accustomed to hear in her home.
To save the situation Betty came quickly forward. "Please don"t say that, Nan," she begged, "for Mollie has already told us you merely wanted to look at my blue dress and that was quite all right. But if you deny it, why--"
"Why what?" Nan demanded sullenly, her black eyes on the ground and her face, which had turned a healthier color with her weeks in the woods, now white and drawn.
"Why we might not believe you when asking a more important question,"
Miss McMurtry said sternly, angered in spite of herself by the girl"s disagreeable manner. "How many times have I told you that when people are untruthful about little things one does not believe them in large.
The fact is that Betty has lost a large sum of money and--"
"And you believe I stole it!" Nan burst into such a violent storm of weeping at this suggestion that Betty for the first time in their acquaintance actually put her arm about her.
"No, we don"t believe you took it just because it has vanished," she whispered comfortingly, casting appealing glances at her guardian and Esther, "only we want to ask you to try to help us find out about it. I wouldn"t be in the least surprised if it should turn up again!"
Neither Miss McMurtry nor Esther spoke, but Nan was not to be so appeased.
"I am sure you are very kind to give me this opportunity to put your old money back," she answered bitterly, "but as I did not take it I should find that pretty difficult. I didn"t even know you had any money, although I confess I did look into your trunk when perhaps I ought to have asked permission and I did take out an old blouse, but I was sorry the next minute and put it back again. But I expect I might as well have kept it and anything else I could lay my hands on. It is the old story, if a girl does a wrong thing once no one ever believes in her when she tries to be straight again. I suppose you will be telling your suspicion to Polly O"Neill and the other girls so they won"t let me stay any longer in camp. I don"t care, I am innocent!" Nan"s voice rose to a shrill cry of protest, but in spite of this there was a note of sincerity in it that almost convinced Betty, although unfortunately the effect was not the same upon Miss McMurtry and Esther.
"No one shall say anything against you, Nan, nor spread this story in any possible way until more is found out," Miss McMurtry now remarked, briefly dismissing them.