Positively Esther could feel herself turning pale with horror at her husband’s remark, but fortunately she had the good sense to laugh.
“Richard Ashton,” she said, “I am not often firm with you, but if you ever dare—Oh goodness, was there ever anything on earth quite so stupid as a man can be! No matter what may or may not have happened between Betty and Anthony there is nothing that you or I can do or say. You know we interfered as hard as we possibly could with Betty’s German lover. We must leave the poor child to manage some of her own affairs alone. Anthony seems to be devoting himself to Meg these days. But he will be in Boston at Christmas, so perhaps if it is only a quarrel that has come between them they may make it up. But how do you suppose I am ever going to be able to get through with all my Christmas church music and give a dinner party with Miss Adams and Mr. Hunt present and perhaps have Betty’s Camp Fire girls here for an afternoon? The child has some scheme or other of taking them for a drive so that they may be able to see the Christmas decorations and then bringing them home for a party.”
“If it is going to tire you, Esther, we will cut it all out,” was Dr. Ashton’s final protest as he disappeared to begin his morning’s work. Dick had been taken into partnership with an older physician and his office was several blocks away.
At his departure Esther breathed a sigh of relief. At least by dwelling on her own difficulties she had taken his mind away from Betty’s odd mood. She did not understand her sister herself, but certainly she must be left alone.
Late that afternoon when Betty and Mollie had been doing some Christmas shopping in Boston and were sitting side by side on the car, Betty whispered unexpectedly:
“See here, Mollie, do you think by any chance it is possible that Polly O’Neill could have written me that letter about the little French girl? Yes, I realize the question sounds as though I had lost my mind, as Polly may be in South America for all I know. Besides, the child never heard of Polly until I mentioned her in talking of our old club. But somehow, for a reason I can’t even try to explain, I keep thinking of Polly these days as if there was something she wanted me to do and yet did not exactly know how to ask it of me. It used often to be like that, you know, Mollie, when we were younger. Polly and I could guess what was in the other’s mind. We often made a kind of game of it, just for fun. Anyhow you will have to try and see what is making that poor child so miserable, as she seems to like you better than she does me. Perhaps it is because you are so like Polly.”
Quietly Mollie nodded. Of course Betty was absurd in her supposition; yet, as always, she was perfectly willing to help in any practical way that either her erratic sister or Betty suggested.
CHAPTER X—More Puzzles
On Christmas eve Mollie and Betty each received notes written and signed by Polly herself, postmarked New York City, accompanying small gifts. Neither letter made any direct reference to what Polly herself was doing nor showed that she had any knowledge of what was interesting her sister or friend. Her information in regard to Mollie’s presence in Boston, she explained, had been received from her mother.
Well, of course, it was good news to hear that at least Polly was alive and not altogether forgetful of her old affections, yet there was no other satisfaction in the communications from her. Indeed the two letters were much alike and on reading her own each girl felt much the same emotion. They were loving enough and almost gay, yet the love did not seem accompanied by any special faith to make it worth while, nor did the gayety sound altogether sincere.