The Camp Fire Girls on the Field of Honor

“I remember escaping from the Germans who had taken me prisoner and then wandering, wandering about in a country where there were no trees, no grass, no houses, nothing but the upturned earth and exploded shells. Afterwards I was not sure I had reached the French country. I know I used to hide in the day time and prowl around at night. I think I must have become ill soon after my escape, because I have an indistinct impression that I was trying to find my old home, the château where I lived before the outbreak of the war. I suppose that is one reason why I hid myself in here. But nothing I can remember explains you.”

Sally sighed.

“I do not understand what you are talking about, at least not exactly. I am not even convinced you do. But if you really are a French soldier and managed to escape from the Germans, I am glad. I know you will think me stupid, but still how could I have been expected to understand that you were a French soldier when you seemed so horribly afraid of being discovered? You were in your own country and among your own people! Personally there is very little for me to tell about myself.

“I am an American girl, I don’t suppose you consider me French, and I am living at a farm house not far away with some American friends. One day I was taking a walk and just from curiosity slipped over here to look more closely at the château. It frightened me when I discovered you were hiding in here. You can never guess how you startled me! At our first meeting you told me some mixed-up story and asked me to bring you some food. I thought you were an escaped prisoner and I did not want to have anything to do with you. But you insisted if you were caught you would be hung. The next day when I arrived with the food you were too ill to recognize me. There is nothing more to tell.”

“That is all,” the soldier repeated. “But that sounds more like the beginning, does it not? You were not even sure of my nationality and yet you have been coming here every day to care for me. Suppose I had been your enemy?”

By this time the soldier was sitting up and intently studying the face of the girl before him. He was wearing a faded dark blue shirt which Jean had generously bestowed upon him the day before, this being the first occasion for which he had made an effort to dress himself.

“Strange human beings, women! I wonder if we men will ever understand you? I have no doubt you would blow up the united armies of the Central Empires if it were possible without a qualm and yet you would make any sacrifice to save the life of one prisoner.”

“But I was never convinced about you,” Sally apologized. “Then after you became so seriously ill I never thought. But I am sure I beg your pardon. As you are a Frenchman of course you would have been infinitely better cared for in a hospital. If anything had happened to you it would have been my fault. But really I did not know what was done to prisoners who ran away from their captors and you suggested such an uncomfortable fate for yourself.

“Now you are better I don’t think I will come back to the château again. You see you made me promise not to tell anyone that you were hiding here, and my sister and friends think it strange because I have been spending so much time away from the farm recently. I don’t suppose I shall ever be able to make anyone understand. It is hard, isn’t it, to be blamed for things and then find they have been of no use? Jean will do whatever is necessary for you until you are entirely well. He can bring me news of you and he will take a message to anyone you care to see if you do not feel strong enough to be moved to a hospital immediately.”

Sally rose as if she meant to leave at once, then something in her companion’s expression made her sink down into her chair.

“No, you must not come to see me again,” he answered, “although I shall wish to see no one else. Perhaps it will not be long before I am able to call upon your friends if you will allow me. I am stronger than you realize; but you have not told me what you are doing in this neighborhood.”

Unexpectedly Sally had a remarkable sensation. It was as if suddenly her position and the soldier’s changed and as if he had begun to think of her welfare rather than to have her devote herself to his.

“Oh, we are doing reclamation work,” Sally returned; “that is, my sister and friends are. I have not accomplished anything that is important. I told you I was stupid.”

All at once Sally’s soldier broke into a peal of clear boyish laughter which was of more benefit to him than either of them appreciated.

“No, you have done nothing except save my life. It is not kind of you under the circumstances to announce you consider it unimportant. Some day when I am able to rejoin my regiment perhaps I may be able to prove your work worth while. Thanks to you, perhaps I shall again serve France as I have never served her before! The enemy has taken from me everything else, my mother, my sister, my little brother and my home. I made up my mind that they should not hold me a prisoner whatever might befall me. If I had to give up my life I meant to die in the open.”

Then more excited and exhausted than either he or Sally had appreciated, the soldier lay down again, closing his eyes.

It was a part of Sally’s recent training which made her continue sitting quietly beside him for the next few moments without speaking or moving.

In the interval she studied the soldier’s face.

For the first time he was appearing to her as a man. Up until now he had simply been a human being who must be cared for, allowed to suffer as little as possible and at last be restored to health.

In considering him at present Sally did not particularly admire his appearance. She thought his nose was rather too large and his lips too thin and in spite of Jean’s devotion, his services as a barber left a good deal to be desired.

“Your arm is nearly well, still I think I should like to bandage it once more before I go,” Sally suggested. “You do not realize it, of course, but I have learned a great deal about nursing since I began to look after you. I don’t like sick people, else I suppose I could become a Red Cross nurse after more training if I wished. But I don’t think I should like the work.”

As Sally talked she was accomplishing her task, certainly with a good deal more skill than she had shown several weeks before.

However, her patient was not conscious of the fact. At present he was not thinking of his wound but of his nurse.

There was something about her so deliciously frank and ingenuous. At least she seemed ingenuous to him, although it was difficult always to be sure concerning Sally.

When she had finished the young Frenchman took one of her hands and touched it lightly with his lips.

“Will you tell me your name, please, and where to find you before you say farewell? I am Lieutenant Robert Fleury of the French-cuirassiers.”

Ten minutes later Sally was walking back home alone to the farm house, having left Jean to continue to care for their patient.

She was not to go back to the château again and she was to tell her friends exactly what had taken place in the past few weeks. She seemed to have promised this to her patient.

Yet Sally was not sure when she would tell her story. She had no desire to make a confession to Alice, and Aunt Patricia was not to be considered. If only she might arrange to wait until Mrs. Burton’s return from her journey into southern France.

CHAPTER XVI

AN UNEXPECTED SHELTER

It was after the hour for their midday dinner when Sally finally arrived at the farmhouse; however, she was able to reach her own room without any questions being asked concerning her delay.

Undressing slowly with the idea of lying down for a little while before facing her friends, Sally was interrupted for the second time that day by the unexpected appearance of her sister. On this occasion Alice’s expression made any further discussion not only unnecessary but impossible.

“Will you come with me, please, to Aunt Patricia’s room?” she began at once. “I have been talking to Aunt Patricia and she says it is only fair that we should hear your explanation before passing judgment. I have spoken to no one else, although I suppose it will be impossible to hide the facts from the other girls. In reality, I believe they already have guessed a great deal and have been trying to keep the truth from me.”

At the moment of her sister’s entrance Sally had been slipping into a little blue dressing gown which had been her mother’s final gift the day before their parting. The dressing gown did not have a utilitarian appearance, since it was made of a soft blue, light woolen material with little clusters of yellow roses scattered over the design and with blue ribbons and lace about the throat and sleeves.

In response to her sister’s speech Sally gathered about her the dressing gown, which she had not yet fastened, and immediately started to leave the room.

“I shall be very glad indeed to talk to Aunt Patricia, but not to you, Alice, nor do I ever intend to forgive you. I suppose you followed old Jean and me to the château and have drawn your own inference from what you observed. Do you know, Alice, I have often wondered why the puritanical conscience is always so suspicious of other people?” And in this last speech of Sally’s there was more of truth that she could fully appreciate.

But if in this final analysis she were speaking the truth, the first part of her remark had been a complete falsehood. At the present time there was nothing she desired so little as being forced into making her confession to Miss Patricia Lord, a severe spinster with no consideration for human folly. Would any one else on earth be more difficult or more unrelenting?

In the past hour or more, following her conversation at the château, Sally had been facing one of the hardest experiences of life.

Her weeks of self-sacrifice and devotion had been not only unnecessary, they had been absurd. If only she could have enjoyed the inward satisfaction of considering herself a heroine or a martyr! But she had risked her own reputation and the young French officer’s life to what end?

As the two girls entered Miss Patricia’s room, Sally, accompanied by her sister, whose existence on earth she refused to recognize, considered that Miss Patricia appeared as implacable as a stone image. Yet one could scarcely compare her to the Sphinx. That ancient stone figure with the head of a woman and the body of a lioness looks as if she had devoted the many centuries since her creation to solving the riddles of human life.

Miss Patricia would consider anything but plain speaking a sheer waste of energy and truth. There were no riddles in Miss Patricia’s mental category.

Nevertheless, Miss Patricia’s voice did not sound unkind when she suggested that Sally occupy the solitary chair in her bedroom, although undoubtedly this would leave the elderly woman standing as well as Alice. But then Sally did not realize how appealing her appearance was at this moment even to so harsh a critic of human nature.

Sally indolent, Sally dreaming her own small and rather selfish dreams, or a Sally self-assured and self-content were not unfamiliar figures to her world. But Sally confused and tired, hurt and bewildered, not by her own actions or any one’s else, but by a web of circumstance, was a new study.

“No, I would prefer not to sit down, Miss Patricia, and in any case I would not have you stand,” Sally answered, still with an innate sense of her own dignity and value which at no time in her life was she ever wholly to lose. “Alice seems to have told you some disagreeable story about me. So I think it just as well for me to tell you the exact truth. I hope I can make you understand. I suppose I should have confided in some one before, but until a few hours ago I did not feel that I had the privilege.”

Sally’s golden brown eyes with the heavy upcurling lashes, which gave to her face the expression of unusual softness, were now gazing upward into Miss Patricia’s. The latter’s eyes were gallant also and steadfast, nor did Sally find them so distrustful as she had anticipated.

“Very well, my dear, go on with your story. I thought Alice was too much excited,” Miss Patricia returned, seating herself in her upright chair, as Sally seemed to prefer her to be seated.

Then with her little dressing gown wrapped about her as if it had been a Roman toga, Sally told the history of the past weeks, her unexpected discovery of the wounded soldier amid the ruins of the old French château, her belief that he was a runaway prisoner and notwithstanding this, her effort, with Jean’s assistance, to restore him to health.

Sally’s explanation was less confused than her conversation with the French soldier a short time before. However, since that hour many things had become clearer in her own mind. She did not break down until her story was completed and only then when she turned toward her sister.

“I don’t know, Alice, what you and the other Camp Fire girls have been thinking of me, and I don’t believe I care to guess. I know you have not been generous. But since I don’t wish to discuss the subject with any one save Aunt Patricia, and with Tante of course when she returns, I wish you would offer the other girls any interpretation of my behavior you care to give.”

At this Sally’s voice broke in spite of her efforts at self-control. When Alice made a step toward her with her arms outstretched to ask forgiveness, Sally stepped back only to find herself enfolded by Miss Patricia and to hear Miss Patricia declare:

“I think it would be wiser, Alice, for you to leave Sally and me alone for a little time; she is tired and unstrung. If you and the other girls have been unfair, you will have an opportunity to apologize later. Then Sally herself will feel more inclined to be reasonable.”

Afterwards, when Alice had reluctantly disappeared, unexpectedly Sally found herself seated as if she were a child in Aunt Patricia’s lap and listening to a very wise and tender conversation, one she was never to forget, from a woman of deep and broad experience.

When she grew less disturbed Aunt Patricia made no effort not to scold Sally for her unwisdom and her lack of reliance upon older judgment than her own. But the great fact was that Aunt Patricia was never unfair, that she had no sentimental suspicions and made no accusations with which Sally could not fairly agree.

In their half hour together Sally Ashton learned to appreciate for the rest of her life Aunt Patricia’s value, learned to understand why Mrs. Burton cared for her so devotedly and considered her a tower of strength in adversity. In this uncertain world in which we live there are fair weather and foul weather friends. Miss Patricia belonged to the number who not only fail to strike other people when they are down, but who spend all their energy and strength in the effort to lift them up again.

Later on the other Camp Fire girls were also to form a new estimate of Miss Patricia’s character, but simply by force of circumstance Sally was the first one of them to be admitted inside the stern citadel with which the elderly spinster surrounded her great heart.

“In the morning, Sally, when you have rested, and if I were you, child, I would spend this afternoon in bed, why I intend to walk over with you to your château and make the acquaintance of your soldier. If he is a gentleman my dear, or even if he is a real man, I mean to bring him here to the farm house to remain as our guest until he has completely recovered. Now, don’t argue with me, Sally. Mrs. Burton will tell you that I am a hopeless old woman with whom to have an argument. I simply never do any one’s way except my own. I do not wish to discuss this side of the situation with you to any extent, but don’t you see, my dear, that it is better for you that we have your soldier here? No one shall think your friends have not understood and approved of your care of this young Frenchman.”

Sally murmured her acquiescence and her gratitude. Yet suddenly she felt that she wished never again to see the young officer who for the past few weeks had been her constant thought and care.

He had recovered sufficiently no longer to need her services and although he was not wilfully responsible, nevertheless he had given her a great deal of care and trouble.

“Of course you must do what you think best, Aunt Patricia,” Sally added a moment later, as she was preparing to start to her own room. “But don’t you think we had best wait until Tante’s return?”

Aunt Patricia shook her head.

“What Polly Burton may think or desire in the matter will not have the slightest influence with me. She cheerfully surrendered you girls into my charge in order to make this trip, of which she knew I thoroughly disapproved. However, in spite of the fact that I am very angry with her, I do not wish any one else to feel uneasy, although I shall not have a happy moment until she returns.”

CHAPTER XVII

TWO OFFICERS

A week later two young officers were guests at the farm house on the Aisne, one of them an American aerial lieutenant, the other a lieutenant in the French cavalry.

Following his telegram within a few days, Lieutenant Ralph Marshall had arrived to spend a short furlough, ostensibly with the entire group of American Camp Fire girls, although in reality his visit was to Peggy Webster. Notwithstanding the fact that he and Peggy were not supposed to be engaged, chiefly because of Peggy’s youth, they shared a different conviction from their families.

The other young officer was none other than “Sally’s soldier.” Absurd as the title appeared, particularly to Sally herself, nevertheless under this name he was discussed secretly and at length in the Camp Fire household.

Toward late afternoon on the day after Sally’s enforced confession, accompanied only by Old Jean, Miss Patricia Lord had tramped across the fields to the French château and had there interviewed its inmate with a directness and a searchlight quality worthy of a public prosecutor.

As a result she had received more valuable information than Sally Ashton had acquired in the hour of their mutual and confused avowal. Among other things Miss Patricia had learned that the wounded officer’s extraordinary outfit was due to the fact that he believed it would make his escape more feasible.

But whatever the details of his story, he was able to inspire Miss Patricia with sufficient interest and faith to admit him as a temporary guest at the farm house in spite of the absence of Mrs. Burton.

However, although undoubtedly a guest, he was a guest according to rules and restrictions laid down and adhered to by Miss Patricia and her household.

In the first place, until he had completely recovered he was to remain in his room at the farm house, cared for only by old Jean with occasional visits from Miss Patricia. Under no circumstances was he to see or meet for the present a single one of the Camp Fire girls. This rule was particularly to be observed with regard to Sally Ashton.

Miss Patricia made no effort to conceal her intention of making a thorough investigation of the account of his life the French officer had imparted to her. She knew it would not be so difficult to verify his statements. It was possible to communicate with the commander of his regiment and also his friends, as he claimed to have lived in the French country not many miles away from their neighborhood in the valley of the Aisne. After his recovery doubtless he would be able to find a number of his former acquaintances by returning to his old home.

It was in his favor that the French officer entirely agreed with Miss Patricia’s attitude in every particular save one. But he was wise enough not to argue with her concerning this. In truth, thirty-six hours after his installation at the farm house, the young Frenchman and Miss Patricia had become surprisingly intimate friends. One could explain this by stating that the officer had a delightful sense of humor and a valuable appreciation of character. Miss Patricia announced that no friendship could have been possible between them if Lieutenant Fleury’s mother had not had the good sense to have him taught English by an English governess when he was a small boy. His accent Miss Patricia considered as peculiar as her own French one, nevertheless they were able to understand each other amazingly well.

One brilliant morning Miss Patricia entered the French officer’s room bearing a cup of bouillon to find him staring out a window which he had just opened in order to let in the air and for another purpose which Miss Patricia instantly suspected.

“Breaking parole,” she commented tersely.

The young officer had not heard her entrance. In return he swung round and laughed.

“Is that fair, Miss Lord? A cat may look at a king, comme cá why not at a number of queens? Besides, don’t you realize it is a miracle for a French soldier to be able to dream that these devastated fields of France are soon to become green and fruitful again? Having lost everything in the early days of the German invasion, my family, home, my small fortune, nevertheless I rejoice that for other French soldiers there may be a happier future when they return to their former homes, thanks to the great hearts of the American people!”

The young officer’s deep feeling and his quiet self-contained manner caused a lump to rise in Miss Patricia’s throat and a mist before her eyes. Therefore her manner became more belligerent than ever.

“Here, sit down and drink this,” she commanded. “I suppose you consider that you have entirely recovered your strength and that I am the veriest old termagant not to permit you to enjoy your convalescence with a group of more or less charming American girls. But as a matter of fact I am really protecting you as well as the girls. We have lived without masculine society, unless you wish to count old Jean, ever since our arrival at the farm house. So whatever your impression, I am afraid you would soon be overpowered with attention once I allowed you to leave this room.”

Lieutenant Fleury finished his bouillon with a proper degree of gratitude and enthusiasm before replying.

Afterwards he gazed at Miss Patricia for several moments in silence as if carefully considering a number of important matters.

The young French officer was of more than medium height, had dark eyes and hair, and except when he was talking, his expression was grave and sad. His arm remained bandaged.

“Miss Patricia, I do not wish to meet all your Camp Fire girls. I agree with you I am not strong enough to make myself agreeable to them. But I do wish to see one of them again. You are aware that I mean Miss Ashton. If ever a man had cause to be grateful to a girl – ”

“Nonsense!” Miss Patricia interrupted, picking up the empty cup as if she were intending to leave the room immediately. “Sally was a goose and ran the risk of being the death of you instead of saving your life as you like to think. Besides, she has not the slightest desire to see you; she told me this herself. She feels now that she was ridiculous. She should never have paid any attention to the disjointed tale of an ill man, or to the promise which you seem to have exacted of the poor child in your original interview. As for being grateful to Sally, that is also a waste of energy when you have none too much to spare. The one dream of every girl in the world these days is to be allowed the privilege of caring for a good-looking soldier. Sally had her opportunity under particularly romantic and nonsensical circumstances. Besides, men will always be grateful to Sally Ashton for something or other as long as she lives, grateful because she is pretty and soft and selfish and, dear me, I suppose she is what one calls essentially feminine! I confess I have rather a tender feeling toward the child myself.”

And without further answer to his request Miss Patricia hurriedly departed.

Outdoors at the same time Sally was occupied in the garden digging in a desultory fashion. As soon as there was no further danger of the ground freezing the Camp Fire girls were planning to plant a garden.

Sally was alone at her task and alone because she preferred solitude.

After her fantastic escapade had been disclosed to the other Camp Fire girls, those of them who had been particularly annoyed by her mysterious behavior were frankly regretful of their condemnation. They did not whole-heartedly approve of what she had done, but no one doubted Sally’s good intention or the unselfishness of her motive. Aside from Yvonne, whose attitude continued puzzled and distrustful, each girl individually had approached Sally with a carefully veiled apology. However, Sally, who was not in a friendly state of mind toward the world at present, received their advances coldly.