<h2 id="c19"><br/>CHAPTER XIX <br/><span class="sc">Memories</span></h2>
<p>Betty arrived at her home before her
visitors. Esther was engaged for
another half hour with a music lesson
and besides Betty wished to see that the
house was in order for her visitors.</p>
<p>It was a curious sensation to come home
alone and to wander from one end of the
big house to the other, hearing only the
sound of her own footsteps, for Mrs.
Mitchell, the caretaker, was in the kitchen
preparing afternoon tea to be served the
guests a little later, while her husband was
working in the yard. Betty had an uncomfortable
feeling of desolation, as though she
were a kind of a ghost. First she went
straight to her mother’s room, but there
the pictures were covered with sheets, the
mattress rolled up, the curtains down, and
the tables and mantel so bare of ornament
that Betty hurried away to her own blue
sitting room across the hall. Would her
father and mother never be back? Surely
they would both be returning in the early
summer when the weather would be less
severe upon her father’s health and the
great house would be reopened as it had
always been.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_213">[213]</div>
<p>At the cabin with the other girls the time
had not seemed so long to Betty, nearly
ten months now since their sailing, but here
at home why it seemed that years might
have passed. A sudden fear clutched the
girl’s heart—would things ever be quite the
same again; did life ever repeat itself in
exactly the same old way? And yet Betty
had no regrets, only pleasure, that she had
been the moving spirit in the first organization
of the Sunrise Camp Fire club. How
much they had learned in their summer and
winter together! And though she might
count herself as having learned least of all,
yet surely she would never be quite so
spoiled and selfish as on that May day
when she had accidentally discovered Esther
Clark singing the Camp Fire hymn in their
formerly deserted back room.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_214">[214]</div>
<p>When her mother returned she would
relieve her by taking the care of the housekeeping
upon her own shoulders and certainly
she would be able to cut down
expenses. Now that her father’s income
was so reduced, this would be a great
assistance to him, as Mrs. Ashton had
no idea of possible household economies.
Betty smiled, not in the least mournfully.
There was no thought of any real poverty
to be grappled with in her mind. She was
only considering in what an unexpected
fashion she was going to be able to show
to her mother and father the benefits of
her Camp Fire training, for which she had
plead so earnestly not quite a year before.</p>
<p>The young girl was in her own room at
the time of these reflections, seated in her
own blue rocking chair with her feet tucked
up under her and her chin resting in her
hand, looking out her open window at the
desolate garden, for this April afternoon
was just as cold and uninspiring as that
other May afternoon, and there was also
no fire in her grate, although downstairs
a big blaze had been lighted for the expected
company.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_215">[215]</div>
<p>That Betty had changed in the past
year, her parents would be able to see
readily. Really she was prettier than ever;
from her outdoor life the color in her cheeks
was deeper, her lips a more vivid scarlet
and the selfish, sometimes discontented
lines about her mouth and forehead had
wholly disappeared. Now thinking of her
parents return, of how she would be able
to prove her love for them by greater
devotion to her father in his ill-health;
that perhaps he would even teach her something
of his business cares and responsibilities
since Dick would be so long away
completing his medical studies, her expression
was very thoughtful and charming
and her gray eyes unusually serious. Yet
the next instant with a gay laugh Betty
jumped to her feet.</p>
<p>“My goodness, I must hurry downstairs
and see how the drawing room looks!” she
exclaimed aloud. “I have been forgetting
what an interesting interview we are going
to have this afternoon! Dear me, I wonder
what the trouble is and why Esther and I
should be privileged to attend this romantic
meeting? Perhaps there is going to be
some kind of marriage contract, arranged
in German fashion, and Esther, Rose and
I are wanted as witnesses. It matters not
just so I am allowed in the secret.” And
Betty started running down the hall.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_216">[216]</div>
<p>However, before arriving at the front
steps a moment’s hesitation overtook her
and she paused. The next second she had
gone to the end of the passage and stood
with her hand on the door-knob of the very
room where she had once surprised Esther.
But to-day she could hear no sounds of
singing on the inside.</p>
<p>“I am going to peep into Esther’s old
room; I wonder if she will wish this same
one when she comes back to live with us
again. Somehow it must affect me like
the locked chamber did Bluebeard’s wife;
there isn’t the least reason why I should be
peering into this empty place to-day.”</p>
<p>The door opened quickly and Betty gave
a sudden scream of terror. The room was
not unoccupied, some one was kneeling
over in a corner by a closed window.</p>
<p>The figure rose slowly to its feet. “I am
sorry, Betty, I didn’t mean to frighten you.
Really, dear, I didn’t dream of your coming
in here.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_217">[217]</div>
<p>It was Esther Clark. In the half light
Betty was now able to distinguish her
perfectly. Esther’s face was extremely
white, there were tears in her large pale
blue eyes and her lids were red and swollen.
Her big hands worked nervously as they
had on that former occasion when Betty
had thought her so plain and unattractive
looking.</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s you, Esther,” Betty exclaimed
in relieved tones. “Gracious, how you
startled me! But I thought you were
taking your music lesson. What in the
world is troubling you, child, and how did
you get into this house and upstairs without
my knowing?”</p>
<p>“I came in through the kitchen and crept
upstairs as quietly as possible, since I
wanted to be alone here for a few minutes,”
Esther explained. “Will you please leave
me for a little while?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_218">[218]</div>
<div class="fig"> id="pic4"> <ANTIMG src="images/p3.jpg" alt="“Do As I Tell You, Princess, Please”" width-obs="399" height-obs="624" /> <p class="center"><span class="sc">“<span class="sc">Do As I Tell You, Princess, Please</span>”</span></p> </div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_219">[219]</div>
<p>“Most certainly not,” returned Betty in
her most autocratic tones. “If you have
anything on your mind that is worrying
you, come on downstairs and tell me what
it is. You have a dreadful tiresome fashion,
Esther, of just hugging your grievances
to yourself, when if you just told outright
what they were, there would probably be
nothing for you to fret about.” Betty was
annoyed and her tone was far more irritable
than usual. Nevertheless, Esther crossed
the short space between them and taking
Betty’s lovely face between her hands
kissed her two or three times in succession.</p>
<p>“Do as I tell you, Princess, please,” she
spoke in unusual tones of authority. “I
will join you downstairs in a very little
while, but I must get back my self-control
first.”</p>
<p>So there seemed to be nothing left for
Betty but obedience, so plainly did Esther
appear to know what she wanted. Very
slowly the younger girl walked down to
the drawing room. “Esther did find it
difficult to confide things to people, but
usually she was willing to tell them to her,”
Betty thought. “Well, perhaps her shyness
and reticence came from having been
raised in an orphan asylum where no one
was really deeply interested in her or her
personal affairs. Nothing very serious
could have happened, however, since Esther
had left school only about an hour before.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_220">[220]</div>
<p>In the drawing room everything was far
more cheerful, the fire was burning, the
window blinds were drawn up, the grand
piano was open and on it rested a vase of
white roses. It was perfectly impossible
for Betty Ashton to learn to be economical
all at once, and with the thought of a
possible betrothal in the house that afternoon
she had stopped at a florist’s and
brought the flowers in with her. Now she
could not help feeling a little glow of pride
over the beauty of their old drawing room,
especially noticeable after the simplicity of
the living room at the cabin.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_221">[221]</div>
<p>Feeling rather nervous over the idea that
Esther might probably be continuing with
her crying upstairs and so unable to take
part in the coming interview, Betty walked
slowly around the great room studying the
portraits of her ancestors,—a favorite
amusement with her so long as she could
remember. They were stern persons most
of them. Betty did not believe that she
could ever have such strict views of the difference
between right and wrong, be so
harsh in her judgments as they had been,
but then the world had moved on to a wider
vision since those days. One of her great,
great uncles had assisted in the burning of
witches. Betty turned from this self-righteous
looking portrait to the picture of
the aunt whom she had always believed
herself to resemble, the young woman in the
white dress with the big picture hat, then
the girl smiled at her own vanity. How
absurd to think that she could look like
any one so lovely! And yet here was the
auburn hair, only a shade more golden than
her own, big eyes that were blue instead of
gray and a kind of proud fashion of tilting
her chin. Very probably Betty had always
held her own head in this fashion because
she had always so wished to be thought
like this special great aunt.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_222">[222]</div>
<p>“Well, it was a good thing to feel a certain
pride of ancestry,” the young girl
thought, “in spite of all of Polly’s teasing.
Surely the possession of a great name ought
to keep one away from littleness or meanness,
make one strive to fill an honorable
position in the world. If she had not the
ability to be a great woman certainly she
intended to be a good one. And then the
recollection of Esther came to her again.
Poor Esther, who had not even a name of
her own! For this very reason had she
not always been more ambitious for her
friend than Esther had seemed for herself?
If she had no position, no money and no
family, Esther did have a real talent and
must make a place for herself some day.”</p>
<p>But there sounded the first ring at the
door bell! Let one hope it was not Herr
Crippen arriving first, since, with Esther
still upstairs, how could she ever hope to
keep him entertained until the arrival
of the others? But probably the elderly
violinist had never seen anything quite so
handsome as their drawing room. Betty
had the grace to laugh and then blush
over her own foolishness, snobbishness Polly
might call it. What did she know of Herr
Crippen, his past, what he had seen, where
he had traveled in the forty-five years or
more of his life?</p>
<p>With a smile of welcome and her hand
extended Betty then moved forward toward
the door to receive her first guest.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_223">[223]</div>
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