It was self-evident that she believed Bettina’s act to have been sheer bravado—a deliberate intention to remain and talk alone with the young Indian, in defiance of her own expressed wish.
After a late luncheon the Camp Fire group separated, each one of them going to some chosen spot to rest, the young men returning to the village.
Polly went to her own tent worn out and depressed, knowing that she was not able to talk to Bettina for the present. And, more than this, that she must make up her mind what was best to be done in the future.
Peggy found Bettina, not in her tent but sitting some distance away with a book but making no effort to read.
Peggy sat down beside her and put her arm across her shoulder.
This was a peculiar boyish fashion which Peggy had of expressing affection.
“It is all right, Bettina; I don’t blame you a bit,” she remarked loyally, “only under the circumstances I do think you ought to explain to Tante just what happened. I have not spoken of it to either of you, but I have seen she did not like your being friends with Tewa. Still, I think it is partly because of what your mother would think.”
“There is nothing I can very well explain,” Bettina returned. “It is merely a matter of my word, and I am not even sure myself of what happened. But, of course, I will tell; I have really nothing to hide. Then you see, Peggy, dear, I am not accustomed to having my word doubted.”
Bettina held her chin high with a fleeting look which suggested her mother, though she was not usually like her. And, though Peggy swallowed a sigh, seeing Bettina had no desire even to confide in her at present, she asked no further questions, except to add:
“You’ll go to Tante, won’t you? After all, she is our Camp Fire guardian and must feel responsible for us. I don’t think we will get much from our experience together unless we accept some leadership.”