“It’s quite out of the question, Ruth.” Emmy’s chilly accents conveyed distinct displeasure. “You know what I said to you last night. I now say it again. Blanche has an axe to grind. She is very shallow in some respects and very deep in others. She isn’t in the least interested in the Camp Fire movement. She has some other secret reason for—for—”
“Butting in,” cheerfully supplied Sarah.
“Exactly,” nodded Emmy, then cast a reproachful glance at the offender whose ever-ready chuckle burst gleefully forth. Knowing Emmy’s horror of slang, Sarah had slyly taken advantage of this glowing opportunity to trap her.
“I forgive you, Sarah.” Emmy readily joined in the laugh at her expense. “You said exactly what I meant. Slang appears to have its uses as well as its abuses. To go on with what I was saying, Blanche has her own reasons for this sudden change of heart. If we agree to let her come to the reunion, she will surely do something to make us sorry we invited her. She’s not to be trusted. She’s likely to do all sorts of foolish things. Her head is filled with beaux and clothes. Do you suppose her mother would engage a companion to look after Blanche while she is gone, if she really trusted her?”
“I’m glad you said that, Emmy,” put in Ruth quietly. “It paves the way for me. I’ve gone over almost the same things to myself. But it only makes me feel all the more that we ought to have Blanche with us. As Camp Fire Girls, we ought to be willing and ready to give her the benefit of any doubts we may have of her sincerity. Suppose I go to her to-morrow and say: ‘We don’t want you.’ How do you suppose she will feel, if she is really in earnest? What will she think of us?”
“But she invited herself, and I am fairly certain she knew what she was about, even if she did pretend that she had misunderstood about the reunion,” maintained Emmy stubbornly.
“We can’t be certain of that,” asserted Anne gravely. “I think Ruth is right in saying that we should take Blanche on faith.”
“Thank you, Anne.” Ruth cast her one supporter a grateful smile. “There’s another thing I’d like to bring forward. It’s about my mother. I’d love to have Blanche learn to know her. Mumsie will share our good times, and I can’t help thinking that—that—well, that Mumsie could help Blanche a great deal. Don’t you believe, too, that if we make this—I must say it—little sacrifice, afterward we shall look back at it and say that we are glad we made it? Blanche won’t interfere much with our plans, if we don’t allow her to do so. Ever since that time when I was so perfectly horrid about Marian, I’ve vowed always to try to make the best of things and not run out to meet calamity. Of course, Anne and I are two against five. The majority rules, I suppose.”
“Ruth, you make me feel ashamed of myself,” was Emmy’s penitent cry. “After the hateful way I treated Marian last summer, I have no right to object to Blanche Shirly or anyone else whom you may choose to invite to your home. As our hostess-to-be, you are privileged to invite whom you please. Go ahead and invite Blanche.” It had cost proud Emmy no little effort to say this. Ruth’s sturdy avowal of past failings had brought back to her the memory of her own lapses.
The sudden brightening of Ruth’s sober face, repaid Emmy for her impulsively spoken words. “That’s sweet in you, Emmy,” she commended. “Please believe, girls, that I wouldn’t take advantage of being hostess to invite Blanche to the reunion. That has nothing to do with it. The only way to look at the question is impersonally. It is the Equitable Eight who has the only right to decide it; not Ruth Garnier.”