The Camp Fire Girls in Glorious France

by Margaret Vandercook

  CHAPTER XVI Another Afternoon in Paris

  On this same day Sally Ashton and Dan Webster spent the latter part ofthe afternoon together in the city of Paris.

  They had started out with the others, but before they had walked morethan a few blocks from the house, Dan joined Sally who was beside hersister and Lieutenant Fleury and deliberately interrupted them.

  "I say, Sally, I want you to go into Paris with me for the afternoon. Ihave an especial reason. Oh yes, I realize it isn't considered the thingto do in France, but you and I are like brother and sister. Besides Iasked permission and Tante wishes you to go."

  Dan's bluntness, his boyish straight forwardness were a trifle annoying,nevertheless, after a little demurring and a slight shrugging of hershoulders, Sally agreed.

  She was looking a good deal better than she had in some time past; therewas more than a hint of the former and more familiar Sally in themischievous gleam in her brown eyes and in the fleeting suggestion ofdimples in her more rounded cheeks.

  And the change had been gradually taking place in Sally ever since theday of her meeting with Lieutenant Robert Fleury and of Private DanWebster on the streets of Paris.

  Since childhood Dan and Sally had known each other, had played togetherwhen Mrs. Ashton brought her two little girls to the old Webster farm inNew Hampshire, near the original Camp Fire grounds.

  As, at the time of Dan's invitation, they were not far from the railroadstation, in something over half an hour Sally and Dan had reached Paris.

  "I thought we would drive out the Champs Elysee and into the Bois,Sally," Dan explained, signaling a cab, as soon as he had guided hiscompanion out of the crowd and on to the edge of the sidewalk.

  "It is such a beautiful afternoon I don't want you to miss being out ofdoors. And as I want to have an intimate talk with you, this would seemabout as good an opportunity as we can ever have."

  Nodding her agreement, Sally allowed Dan to assist her into thedilapidated cab with as much grace and dignity as if she had beenentering a royal coach. But Sally was the type of girl who very muchenjoyed men wait upon her and take care of her in the small matters oflife; although perfectly capable of caring for herself, she had too muchwisdom always to reveal it.

  Settling back now into the seat of the cab Sally remarked amiably, as shewas feeling in an unusually cheerful frame of mind:

  "Well Dan, what in the world can you have to talk to me about thatrequires all this secrecy? All I can say is that you are looking fiftypercent better than when I discovered you. So please remember if you haveanything unpleasant to say that you owe your improvement to me."

  In spite of the fact that Sally was talking in this agreeable fashion,Dan was perfectly aware that at the moment she was paying but littleattention to him, or to what he might possibly be going to say.

  They had reached the Champs Elysees and were now moving on toward the Arcde Triomphe. Down the broad avenue the "marrons," or horse chestnut treeswere green if not yet in bloom, while apparently every person of leisurewho was not visiting the park at Versailles this afternoon was drivingout toward the Bois.

  "Perhaps we had best wait and I'll explain what I wish to say after wehave enjoyed our drive for a little while," Dan replied wisely.

  Therefore he and Sally discussed only casual matters for the next quarterof an hour. But finally, when they had passed under the Arc and were inthe Bois, the wooded park on the outskirts of Paris, Dan remarked withoutfurther preparation:

  "Sally, I want you to promise me to go back to the United States and toyour own people at the earliest opportunity. I have been watching youpretty carefully ever since our unexpected encounter a few weeks ago andI never saw a girl more changed than you have been by your work inFrance. It is true you are looking a little better today, but that isbecause you are entertained for the time being. When no one is supposedto be paying any attention to you, you appear terribly depressed. As amatter of fact, Sally, you are not the type of girl who should ever havecome over to do war work. The fellows have all said that some of thegirls had better have stayed at home and made bandages and knit socks."

  At this Sally appeared deeply hurt.

  "You are not kind, Dan, even if what you say is in a measure true.Recently it has seemed awfully difficult for me to take the properinterest in the work of organizing the Camp Fire in France, as the othergirls are doing. But I think if you ask Aunt Patricia or Tante, they willboth tell you that I tried to do my share of the work at our farmhouse onthe Aisne. And don't you think my returning home at once is a questionfor Tante or for my mother and father to decide?"

  Dan Webster was one of the fortunate persons who was rarely troubled byindecision.

  In answer to Sally's question, he shook his head positively.

  "No, I don't. In the first place your mother and father are not here andso are unable to see what a difference there is in you. Tante is one ofthe most charming persons in the world, but I have never thought herremarkable for good judgment. Besides, Sally, you must not consider thatI intend being rude or unkind to you. It is really because I have alwaysbeen fonder of you than of most girls, that I take the trouble tointerfere. I don't mean that you have not done your best in France and Idon't mean that your work hasn't been jolly well done, and of course youhave always gotten on with fellows and understood them better than mostgirls. I was thinking more of the effect upon you of what you have seenin France during the war. I have seen enough myself, never to expect tobe exactly the same again, but somehow a man does not want a girl he isfond of saddened, especially when she is so young and such a gay littlething as you used to be. I am pretty stupid at trying to say things,Sally, but I wish you to know that Tante and I had a talk about you andshe told me to go ahead and see if you would confide in me. She says shehas noticed that something has been the matter with you for a long timeand your friends have seen it too. But you have never told her or Alicewhat troubled you and apparently, if there is anything serious thematter, you have only talked to Miss Lord."

  At this instant and for the first time during his long speech Danhesitated and colored hotly.

  He was a splendid looking young fellow nearly six feet high with shiningblack hair and deep blue eyes. Ordinarily he had a brilliant color, butat present his complexion had not recovered from the long months spent ina German prison.

  "Is there anything I can do, Sally? Oh, I might as well speak plainly, Idon't know how to speak in any other way. My sister Peggy told me thatyou had nursed that French lieutenant, Lieutenant Fleury through anillness of some kind months ago and that a few of the girls believe youcare more for him than you would like people to know. That is why I wishyou please to go on back home, Sally. You are too young and you are anAmerican girl and he is a Frenchman, and oh, I should hate it, Sally!Forgive me, you know I want to do what your brother would do under thesame circumstances, we have known each other so long and you have nobrother of your own."

  Sally stopped gazing at the scenery at this moment and turned her goldenbrown eyes to stare into Dan's blue ones.

  There was a mischievous gleam in their centers and yet oddly there wasalso a suggestion of tears.

  "But I have had another offer of a brother, Dan, oh, not so very longago! Lieutenant Fleury also suggested that he would like to be a brotherto me. I don't like being ungrateful, but I declined. Really so long asfate sent me no real brother I don't think I care for an adopted one.

  "Just the same, Dan dear, don't feel I do not appreciate what you havejust said. It is true I have never been happy since our retreat to Paris.I am not in love with Lieutenant Fleury, no one need worry over thatpossibility, but something did happen on the way here which might nothave affected any one else seriously, but which I have never been able toforget. You cannot forget the sights and sounds of a great battle,neither can I forget what I saw and heard on our retreat to Paris.

  "I saw poor old women and children dying from cold and hunger and babiesas well.
I saw them being driven a second time penniless and broken fromtheir little homes. Yet it was not these things altogether, Dan, it wassomething else."

  Along the seat Sally slid her small hand until it was held comfortinglyin Dan's large one.

  "I think I would like to tell you, Dan, perhaps it would be easier tospeak to you than anyone else and afterwards I shall feel happier.

  "One night on our way to Paris from our farmhouse, Aunt Patricia and VeraLagerloff and I discovered a young girl, not perhaps as old as I am,sitting alone by the side of the road.

  "When Aunt Patricia spoke to her, she did not answer, or even look at us.Then Aunt Patricia got down from her wagon and spoke to the girl andasked if she could help her. She found that the girl could not speak andso we took her into the wagon with us."

  Sally's voice shook a little and she looked so particularly soft andchildlike that Dan would have given a good deal to have been able tocomfort her at the instant.

  Nevertheless he did not interrupt, knowing it was best that Sally beallowed to tell her story in her own way.

  "For some strange reason the girl we were trying to be kind to took anextraordinary fancy to me. If Vera or Aunt Patricia asked her a question,she seemed terrified, but she sat for hours as we jogged along the roadwith her hand in mine and her eyes staring tragically toward me.

  "By and by she began to be able to talk to me, just a few words at atime. Toward night she was so weak and ill that Aunt Patricia wasfrightened, so we halted at one of the deserted French villages and foundan old doctor, too old to serve at the front, who was doing his bit forFrance by treating the refugees as they journeyed on to Paris. He told usthat our young French girl had received a terrible nervous shock, perhapsa long time before. He also told us that she was extremely ill, dyingfrom exhaustion and perhaps from other things that she had suffered. Sothat night we delayed our trip and in the night the girl died. She diedwith her hand in mine and before she died, Dan, she was able to talk andtold me what she had endured. Do you wonder that I do not want to talk ofit? I suppose I would have told Tante except that she has been ill and Idid not wish to make her unhappy. But of course I can never feel just thesame, although I suppose after a time I'll forget a good deal. You areright, Dan, I do not believe I was really fitted for the work here inFrance, I was too selfish, too self absorbed and worst of all I knew toolittle of life. Oh Dan, I can never bear to live in a world again wherethere is another war.

  "But please do let us talk of something else now and never mention thissubject again."

  Taking out of her pocket book an infinitesimal handkerchief, Sally nowdried her eyes and the next moment pointed toward a small house a fewyards from the road.

  "Dan, please go in there and get me some tea and cakes won't you? I amdreadfully hungry. It is a funny thing about me and always amuses theother Camp Fire girls, but it makes me dreadfully hungry to be unhappy.No, I would rather not go with you, we might stay too long and must be inVersailles again before dark."

  In the interval while Sally waited alone a carriage drove past and in thecarriage was a tall man with a serious, kindly face, whom Sallyrecognized at once. Beside him was an attractive middle aged woman withshining brown eyes and hair.

  Instinctively Sally bowed and smiled, her lips unconsciously framing thenames: "President and Mrs. Wilson."

  Then as they both returned her greeting, a little prayer went up from thegirl's inner consciousness, that this great man who so desired the futurepeace of the world, might be able to help in bringing it to pass.