<h2 id="c9"><br/>CHAPTER IX <br/><span class="sc">Christmas Eve at the Cabin</span></h2>
<p>“I am so sorry, I never dreamed things
would turn out like this,” said
Sylvia Wharton awkwardly, trying
to control a suggestion of tears. She was
standing in the center of the Sunrise cabin
living room with one hand clasping Rose
Dyer’s skirt and the other holding on to
Polly. However, if she had had half a
dozen hands she would like to have
grasped as many girls, for her hour of
reckoning had come. Instead, her eyes
mutely implored Mollie and Betty who
happened to be hurrying by at the same
moment and had been arrested by the
apologetic and frightened note so unusual in
Sylvia’s voice. And this note had to be
very much emphasized at the present time
to have any one pay the least attention
to it, since there were enough Christmas
preparations now going on in the Camp
Fire living room to have sufficed a small
village.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_111">[111]</div>
<p>On a raised platform, which occupied
about a third of their entire floor space,
Miss Martha McMurtry was rehearsing the
two Field girls, Juliet and Beatrice, who
had only arrived the night before, in the
parts they were to play in the Christmas
entertainment the following night. While
Meg, holding “Little Brother” tight by the
belt, was trying to persuade him to await
more patiently his time for instruction.
Toward the front of this stage, John, Billy
Webster and Dick Ashton were struggling
to adjust a curtain made of heavy khaki.
It had a central design, the crossed logs and
a splendid aspiring fire, the well-known
Camp Fire emblem, painted by Eleanor
Meade, who was at this moment making
suggestions to the curtain raisers from
the top of a step-ladder. Nan Graham
and Edith Norton ran about the room
meanwhile, carrying holly wreaths, bunches
of mistletoe and garlands of cedar, that
several of their Boy Scout friends were
helping festoon along the walls. Indeed,
every girl in the Sunrise Camp Fire was
represented except Esther. She had gone
over to the old orphan asylum where she
had lived as a child, for a final rehearsal
of her song with the German Herr Professor,
who was staying with the superintendent of
the asylum. For what reason he was there
no one knew except that he must have
intended getting music pupils in the village
later on.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_112">[112]</div>
<p>However, in the midst of the prevailing
noise the little group about Sylvia had
remained silent, for their guardian’s face was
flushing strangely, her yellow-brown eyes
darkening and for the first time since she
came into the Sunrise Club it was possible
to see how Rose Dyer felt when she was
truly angry. Although her voice never lost
its softness there was a severity in it that
the girls felt to be rather worse than Miss
McMurtry’s in her moods of disapproval.</p>
<p>“Do you mean, Sylvia,” Rose asked,
“that you and Dr. Barton have arranged
to have a young girl whom none of us know
brought to our cabin to be taken care of
all winter, without consulting me or even
mentioning the subject to a single one of
the girls? And that this child, who has
been so ill she will require a great deal of
care, is actually to arrive this afternoon?
It seems to me that not only have you
broken every principle of our Camp Fire
life but you have been lacking in the very
simplest courtesy.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_113">[113]</div>
<p>Never in her life would Sylvia Wharton
be able to explain herself or her motives
properly in words. She was one of the
often misunderstood people to whom expression
comes with difficulty. Now her
plain face was nearly purple with embarrassment.
“I didn’t mean to be rude; yes,
I know it looks horrid and impossible of
me, but you see I meant to explain and to
ask permission, only I didn’t dream that
she would arrive for another week, and I
was just waiting until our festivities would
be over and you would be better able
to be interested.” She looked rather
desperately at Betty, Polly and Mollie
before going on, but they appeared almost
as overwhelmed as their guardian.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_114">[114]</div>
<p>“You see, Betty, it was something you
said a while ago that made me think of it
first,” she continued. “You said to Miss
Dyer one evening that you thought we
Sunrise Camp Fire girls were getting rather
selfish, that we were not letting strangers
into our club or doing anything for
outside people. So I thought as Christmas
was coming I would like to help somebody.
Perhaps we all would! So when Dr. Barton
told me about a poor little girl (she is
only thirteen, I think) who was ill, probably
dying, and if only she could have an outdoor
life such as we girls are living she might
get well, why, I told him I thought we would
like to have her in our camp.”</p>
<p>Sylvia stopped because her words had
given out, but she could hardly have chosen
a wiser moment, for Mollie, whose gentleness
and good judgment everybody respected,
was beginning to understand.</p>
<p>“I think Sylvia is trying to show
the Christmas spirit of doing good to the
people who need it and letting us help,”
she whispered, coming closer to their guardian
and slipping an arm about her waist.
“Perhaps our Christmas preparations have
been a little bit too much for ourselves.
Of course Sylvia ought to have asked
permission, Rose, and of course the little
girl is not to stay if you don’t want her,
but she didn’t expect her for another
week and—and please don’t be angry on
Christmas eve.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_115">[115]</div>
<p>This was exactly what poor Sylvia would
like to have said without knowing how;
however it did not matter who spoke,
as Rose was plainly softening.</p>
<p>“But it is Dr. Barton’s part I don’t
understand, Sylvia; he is older, a great
deal older, than you, he must have understood
that you had not the right to make
such a proposition without consulting me
or any one,” Rose declared thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“He did,” Sylvia now answered more
confidently, feeling the atmosphere a bit
more friendly. “He said at the beginning
that the idea was quite impossible, that
Miss Dyer would never be willing to undertake
a responsibility of such a character,
that he was surprised she had stayed with
our Camp Fire club so long. It was only
when I promised to try and save you all
the trouble possible that he consented,
Miss Dyer. You see Abbie is the daughter
of a landlady Dr. Barton once had when
he was a student in Boston, and so he is
much interested in her, only he is too poor
to pay her board and hasn’t anybody to
look after her at his little place; and you
mustn’t think it is just goodness on my
part, wanting this girl at our cabin. You
see I do care about learning to look after
sick people more than anything else and
I do want to know if our way of living
really helps.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_116">[116]</div>
<p>“So Dr. Barton thought I would not
wish to help in the care of a sick child,
that I was only playing at being a real
Camp Fire guardian,” Rose Dyer repeated
slowly and then, without adding another
word, somehow she seemed to drift away.
However, there were a dozen voices calling
for her advice and aid at this same instant,
which may have explained her failure to let
Sylvia and the other girls know her possible
decision.</p>
<p>The three older friends exchanged looks
and then Polly patted the crestfallen Sylvia
on the shoulder. “Never mind, dear,
some of us possess all the virtues except
the trifling one of tact. If your little
girl comes we can’t very well turn her out
on Christmas eve, so you had better say
nothing more until Rose has thought things
over and we have had a meeting of our
Council Fire.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_117">[117]</div>
<p>Then the girls hurried off to what was
about the busiest day in their careers,
with little further thought of Sylvia’s
protégé; Polly to a quiet rehearsal with
her elocution teacher of her part in the
Christmas play, Mollie and Betty to assist
with the final details of certain costumes,
and Sylvia, who was never of a great deal
of service in frivolities, to apply her scientific
interest toward helping with the cooking.</p>
<p>However, by six o’clock all the Sunrise
Camp Fire friends and assistants had gone
back to the village and by seven supper
was over and cleared away so that the
girls might have a quiet evening and go
early to bed in order to be rested for the
next day. Esther had only gotten home a
few minutes before tea time, but in the
excitement no one had missed her, nor
did she seem much more tired than the
rest of the girls from the strain of her last
rehearsal. Nevertheless, Miss McMurtry,
who had always a special affection for
Esther, did see that she was even paler
than usual and persuaded her to sit close
to her when the girls grouped themselves
about their great Christmas eve fire for an
hour of Christmas story telling before
separating for the night.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_118">[118]</div>
<p>And it was while their old guardian held
everybody’s attention that Rose managed
to slip quietly away. She was not a child,
she was not even a young girl any longer,
and yet she went straight to the refuge of
her babyhood—to Mammy—who had a
tiny room of her own just off the kitchen.
To-night there was a younger colored girl
in the kitchen who had come out from
Woodford to help over Christmas day,
but as Rose passed their pantry she saw
that Mammy had forgotten her seventy
years and intended giving the New England
girls a taste of an old-fashioned Southern
Christmas. For along with the beautiful
pies and doughnuts, which the Camp Fire
girls had made, there were great dishes
of sugar-powdered crullers, a black cake
as big as a cart wheel and half a dozen
deliciously fried chickens to vie with the
turkey which had not yet been cooked.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_119">[119]</div>
<p>Down on a stool at the old colored
woman’s feet Rose let Mammy brush out
her yellow-brown hair as she had done ever
since she could remember. She was tired
to-night; she had done more work in the
past month than in all the years of her life
and she loved it and was very happy and
was only hoping to grow more capable
and more worthy every day. Yet it was
hard to have a narrow-minded New England
doctor who had been a friend of her
uncle’s criticizing her to one of her own
girls and failing to show faith in her or
her work. Just because he was a recluse
and spent his time in looking after the
sick poor was no reason for being so severe
and puritanical in his judgments.</p>
<p>Rose was not listening to Mammy’s
low crooning else her ears would not have
been the first to catch the sound of a horse
and buggy approaching their cabin door.
If the girls had forgotten the prospect of
a newcomer to their Camp Fire circle their
guardian had not, so now, hastily tucking
up her hair without waiting for a wrap,
Rose hurried out into the darkness. It
was a cold clear night with many stars,
but it was hardly necessary for her actually
to behold the shabby buggy before recognizing
it.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_120">[120]</div>
<p>However, the young doctor did not at
first see her, for he stopped and hitched
his horse and then lifted out what appeared
to be a soft bundle of rugs. “Don’t be
frightened, dear,” he whispered in a voice
of unusual gentleness. “She—they will
be very kind to you, I am sure, even if they
can’t keep you very long. I am sorry I
didn’t understand that things weren’t
exactly settled and that we made such a
mistake about the time, but—why, Rose,
Miss Dyer,” he corrected himself hastily,
“it is good of you to come out to meet us,
I am sorry to be putting this additional
burden upon you.” And then his manner
changed to a doctor’s severity. “Please
go into the house at once, you haven’t
any wrap and on such a cold night as this!
Really I don’t see how you are able to look
after girls when you don’t look after yourself.”</p>
<p>But Mammy appeared at this moment
wrapping her charge in a long rose-colored
broadcloth cape, and Rose’s manner was
unexpectedly humble. “I wouldn’t have
forgotten if it had been one of my girls,”
she apologized, and then more coldly,
“Won’t you come into the house?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_121">[121]</div>
<p>She had so far caught but an indefinite
glimpse of the young girl in Dr. Barton’s
charge and was steeling her heart against
her until she had had time to think of
whether it was best for the other Camp
Fire girls to bring this sick child into their
midst. For she did look such a baby
standing there in the snow with an old-fashioned
knitted blue woolen hood on her
head, such as little girls had not worn for
almost twenty years. And then, suddenly,
the girl began to cry quite helplessly and
pitifully, so that Rose forgot every other
consideration and put her arms about
her as you would comfort a baby, drawing
her toward the cabin and into the kitchen
that she might be warmed and comforted
by Mammy before being presented to a
dozen strange older girls all at once.</p>
<p>The young doctor did not follow them,
indeed Rose had not invited him in again.
But a few moments later she must have
remembered his existence, for she came out
for the second time into the cold.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_122">[122]</div>
<p>Dr. Barton extended his hand, but
apparently Rose did not see it, for she kept
her own arms by her sides, saying in somewhat
the same manner she had used earlier
in the day to Sylvia: “I am sorry, Dr.
Barton, you do not think I can be interested
in the care of a sick little girl, and that
you feel me unworthy to be a Camp Fire
guardian. I know that I haven’t all the
knowledge and character that is necessary,
but I am learning, and——”</p>
<p>Rose would not listen to the young man’s
explanation or apology, for with a quick
good-night she turned and left him endeavoring
to say something to her which
evidently she did not care to hear.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_123">[123]</div>
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