“Very well, Aunt Patricia, I shall try to be as conventional tonight as possible, to persuade Bettina’s rescuer that we do not ordinarily permit our Camp Fire girls to spend their nights alone in secret gardens. But so far as dressing is concerned, why Bettina and I are both under the impression we are already dressed. We had our tea together in my room, where we were both lying down, and dressed afterwards.”
Miss Patricia Lord, who was wearing a dingy black costume which she had purchased at a reduced price some months before at the Bon Marché and had worn almost constantly since, now eyed Mrs. Burton’s grey and rose colored gown with extreme disfavor.
“You were not intending to appear at dinner in your dressing gown, were you, Polly Burton? Is that your idea of making a suitable impression upon our guest? I had a gown sent to you today from a shop in Paris. It is now on your bed ready for you to put on. If you do not happen to like it, it does not matter as I admire it very much. It will make you look older than the absurd clothes you ordinarily wear and is also more appropriate for a Camp Fire guardian. Sally Ashton will go to your room with you and help you to dress. Not that you should require assistance, or that your maid Marie is ever occupied with useful work, but because Sally has something she wishes to say to you alone.”
Miss Patricia’s manner then became slightly more gracious.
“You are looking fairly well, Bettina. Marguerite seems to have a gift for understanding the style of costume each one of you Camp Fire girls should affect. You need not change your dress unless you like. Dinner is to be served at eight.”
CHAPTER IX
The Dinner Party
Tonight, as the group of Camp Fire girls were seated at dinner, their appearance afforded a striking contrast to the ordinary simplicity of their lives within the past few years which they had spent together.
The long oval dinner table held a basket of white roses in the center. Above the roses and attached to the crystal chandelier was a white dove. On the table were white candles and two silken flags, the United States flag and the French, which lay one beside the other across the white cloth.
Seated at the head of the table and presiding over her peace dinner was Miss Patricia Lord, but a Miss Patricia whom no one of the Camp Fire girls had ever beheld before tonight.
Vanished was her usually shabby and old-fashioned attire! In its place for this occasion she wore a gown of black satin and lace of unusual elegance. Indeed, through the art of her French dressmaker even Miss Patricia’s ordinary ungainliness had been metamorphosed into a unique distinction. Never lacking dignity even in the shabbiest attire through sheer force of personality, tonight she was almost handsome as well.