“Bettina, who on earth is Miss Patricia Lord? A more formidable lady I never imagined!”
Sitting before a fire in their bedroom, which they had chosen to share so as to be able to talk for as long a time as they wished before retiring, were the two Sunrise Camp Fire girls, Bettina Graham and Vera Lagerloff. Both girls had changed conspicuously in manner and appearance since the summer before when they had been in camp together “Behind the Lines” in southern California. However, there comes a day in every girl’s life when with entire suddenness she seems to understand and accept the revelation of her womanhood.
To Bettina Graham had been given an added social experience. During the past few months, without being formally introduced into society, nevertheless she had been assisting her mother in receiving in their home in Washington. In spite of the fact that there had been but little entertaining on a large scale because of the war, Bettina had gone to occasional dinners and small dances, and on account of her father’s prominence and her mother’s popularity, had shared in the best opportunities. Moreover, Washington had never been so crowded with interesting men and women, and yet scarcely a day passed when Bettina did not whisper to herself that nothing could make her enjoy a conventional society existence. It was only because of the universal absorption in the war at the present time that society had become more endurable. But to continue the life indefinitely demanded an impossible sacrifice.
One afternoon in late fall Bettina and her father, Senator Graham, in an hour of mutual confidence, imparted the information to each other that they regarded themselves as social failures.
“You see, Bettina, my dear, I was not to the manner born in this social game and had no one to teach me until I married your mother,” Senator Graham announced with a certain embarrassment. “Indeed, I never had entered a drawing-room until I was a grown man and then had not the faintest idea how the confounded thing should be done. You don’t think you could have inherited a social awkwardness from me?”
Then, fearing to have wounded his daughter’s feelings Senator Graham added quickly: “I don’t mean that you have not charming manners, little Betty, as charming as any in the world aside from your mother’s. And personally I have not seen a prettier girl in Washington or elsewhere. But if you really are unhappy among strangers and would like to go to France with your old friends to help with the work over there, why, I will try to see how matters can be arranged. I don’t think I would speak of your idea to your mother, not just at present, as there is no point in worrying her.”
In answer Bettina had laughed and promised. Always she was touched by her father’s use of her old childhood name now that she had become nearly as tall as he himself was.
“But, father, don’t think I mind sharing a social disability with you. I am afraid my infirmity goes somewhat deeper,” Bettina answered. “As a matter of fact, I heard one of mother’s friends say the other day that there was no more brilliant or agreeable man in Washington society than Senator Graham, once he could be persuaded to throw aside his social hauteur and condescend to ordinary mortals,” she continued, imitating the visitor’s voice and manner, to the Senator’s deep amusement.
“But of course I won’t annoy mother until I am sure our Camp Fire unit has a real chance of being accepted for the work in France. It is hard upon mother to have had Tony inherit all the family beauty and charm. However, he will make up to her some day for my failures!”
Bettina was doing herself an injustice. In reality she was unusually handsome and as she grew older her tall stateliness increased her distinction. Tonight she looked especially attractive as she sat braiding her long yellow hair into two heavy plaits, with a blue corduroy dressing gown worn over her night-dress.