“Oh, no. I merely thought I’d like to congratulate you,” Blanche answered in anything but a congratulatory tone.
“Thank you ever so much.” Privately, Ruth was at a loss to account for this sudden interest in herself on Blanche Shirly’s part. Long since, she had reached the rueful conclusion that she and Blanche had little in common. It was only of late that the latter had begun to treat her with condescending friendliness.
During her first year at Miss Belaire’s she had earnestly tried to find under Blanche Shirly’s shallow, snobbish exterior some vein of intrinsic worth. Toward the close of that memorable year, when the Camp Fire spirit had begun to manifest itself strongly throughout the freshman class, Ruth had had high hopes of Blanche’s conversion to a more earnest scheme of life which offered loftier ideals than fine clothes, beaux, theatres and dances, and Blanche had even gone so far as to express a desire to be a Camp Fire Girl. Nevertheless she had not put her desire into execution. She had merely made vague promises to join the organization in the fall, before departing homeward on her summer vacation.
Afterward, when the seven friends had chanced to encounter her at Haines Falls, a summer resort in the Catskills, she had apparently changed her mind. On the momentous occasion when Emmeline Cerrito’s perverse stand was responsible for the call Blanche and her mother had paid Betty Wyndham at Wanderer’s Roost, both mother and daughter had offered a most unflattering opinion of the Camp Fire movement. Blanche expressed herself loftily as having lost all interest in it.
Through the major part of her second year at Miss Belaire’s, she had pointedly steered clear of the Equitable Eight. Later, for reasons best known to herself, she had abruptly changed her tactics. Greatly to their surprise she and Jeanette Hayes had recently joined the Drexal Camp Fire and religiously attended the meetings.
Slightly mollified by Ruth’s cordial reception of herself, Blanche marched serenely along between the two whom she had interrupted, apparently oblivious to the fact that Emmy had said not a word to her. Emmy was not only incensed by Blanche’s lack of ceremony, she was also darkly considering the reason for the invasion. She had no illusions concerning Blanche. Far from feeling jealous at this inexplicable display of friendliness toward Ruth, she was nevertheless not favorably impressed by it.
“What’s the matter with you, Emmy?” It had suddenly penetrated Blanche’s somewhat obtuse brain that Emmy was not specially overjoyed at seeing her. “Are you deep in one of your black moods? Anyone might think you weren’t glad on Ruth’s account.”
In the darkness Emmy’s eyes flashed ominously. An angry reply leaped to her lips. Forcing it back she merely said with acid sweetness: “What reason have you for thinking that I’m not?”
“None at all,” Blanche hastily assured. “I was only fooling.” Warned by Emmy’s tone that she had gone too far, Blanche continued nervously, “I must go back to Jean. She will wonder what has become of me. See you to-morrow.” Promptly beating a retreat, she left the danger spot and returned to Jeanette with, “Thank goodness, that’s done. My, but Emmeline Cerrito hates to have anyone say two words to Ruth Garnier! She makes me tired. If it weren’t for certain reasons, I wouldn’t bother my head about Ruth Garnier.”
Left alone, neither Emmy nor Ruth spoke for a moment. It was Emmy who broke the silence. “Blanche has an axe to grind,” she burst forth. “I’ve noticed for over a week now that she is trying her best to be sweet to you, Ruth. Don’t think I’m jealous. I hope I’ve learned that jealousy doesn’t pay. But I know Blanche. Jeanette is the only girl at Miss Belaire’s that she really cares about. They are two of a kind. Mark what I say. Blanche has thought of something that she wants you to do for her.”