Certainly for the time being the two hostesses had their attention fully distracted by their social responsibilities. For Mollie had direct charge of the luncheon party, while to Betty had fallen the duty of seeing that their friends learned to understand one another and to have a gay time.
It was a pleasure for her to observe what an interest Faith Barton had immediately seemed to feel in her little French girl. For one could only think of Angelique as a child, she was so tiny and fragile with all her delicate body hidden from view save her quaint, vivid face and slender arms.
Faith herself had been a curious child, and though now so nearly grown, was not in the least like an every-day person. She was extremely pretty, suggesting a fair young saint in an old Italian picture; and still she loved dreams better than realities and books more than people. Ordinarily she was very shy; yet here in Angelique, Faith believed that she had probably found the friend of her heart. The French girl seemed romance personified, and delicately and gently she set out to woo her. But Angel was not easy to win, she was still cold and frightened with all persons except her fairy princess. Nevertheless, Betty sincerely hoped that the two girls might eventually learn to care truly for each other.
They were so different in appearance that it was an artistic pleasure to see them together. Faith was so soft and fair; Angel so dark and with such possibilities of restrained vivacity and passion. Then the older girl knew so little of real life, while the younger one had already touched its sorrows too deeply.
After all, it was really Faith’s sudden attachment that kept the guests at the cabin longer than they had intended to remain.
At four o’clock, fearing the excitement too much for her protégé, Betty had persuaded the girl to retire to bed. Faith had at once insisted on having tea alone in the room with Angel so that they might have a chance for a really intimate conversation. It was Faith, however, who did all the talking, nor did she even have the satisfaction of knowing that her new acquaintance had enjoyed her. Certainly the French girl was going to be difficult; yet perhaps to a romantic nature mystery is the greatest attraction.
Actually it was almost six o’clock when the last visitor had finally departed from Sunrise cabin and Mollie and Betty had a few quiet moments together. It had been a beautiful day and now when the sun was sinking behind the hill, spreading its radiance over the world, the two friends stepped outside the cabin door for a short breathing spell.
Betty had completely forgotten her unopened letters; she was thinking of something entirely different, and her gray eyes were not free from a certain wistfulness as she looked around the familiar landscape. All day long, although she had done her best at concealment, she had felt vaguely restless and unhappy. There had been no definite reason, except, perhaps, the pathetic story confided to her earlier in the day.
Suddenly Mollie O’Neill turned toward her friend, at the same instant drawing two letters from her pocket.
“I declare, Betty dear, I have not had a single moment of leisure all day, not even time to read mother’s letter. Have you? I do hope she had nothing of special importance to say. I thought she might possibly come and see us for a while this afternoon.”