  Some days later a number of guests were entertained informally by Miss Lord at her house in Versailles. The trip into the French country had been depressing and if Miss Patricia’s ideas for future work in France were still a little far distant, this was not true with the plans of the Camp Fire girls. For weeks they had been meeting other groups of girls in the city of Paris and interesting them in their program for establishing a French Camp Fire organization. They had written to the central organization in the United States asking them to get in touch with the French for a mutual exchange of ideas. Moreover, Mrs. Burton had also persuaded a woman of unusual charm and high position to take over the work of the French Camp Fire and become its first guardian. But the group of girls who were invited by Miss Lord to her home at Versailles were the original group of poor French girls who were Marguerite Arnot’s friends. Miss Patricia also suggested to Yvonne Fleury that she include her acquaintances in the same invitation. “As a matter of fact, Yvonne,” she insisted, “if democracy is to be the order of the day, I don’t see why we should not try to practice it among the groups of Camp Fire girls. I’ve an idea poor girls may be more in need of just the help the Camp Fire can give than the rich. Also I would like to see a little more democracy practiced in our own household at the present time. You girls and Polly Burton must remember that I was once as poor a girl as one could find in the county of Cork and that is saying a good deal. No one need think I forget it! Now I have no mind to be spoiling any of you by our own fine living for the next few months. This is merely my way of celebrating the dawn of peace and perhaps of rewarding you girls for the sacrifices you made during the war. But if your friends, Yvonne, think they are too fine to meet Marguerite Arnot’s friends and to be members of the same Camp Fire group, then in faith I shall have nothing to do with them and never want them in my house! Of course you may do as you like, Yvonne. Don’t ask them to come here if you think they will object to meeting Marguerite, her friends or me. Neither be a telling of them that Polly Burton is a famous actress and so making them wish to come for that reason. A famous actress Polly may be, but she is often an obstinate and mistaken woman.” Without allowing Yvonne opportunity to reply, which was altogether like her, Miss Patricia then withdrew. Nevertheless, Yvonne thought she understood Miss Patricia’s point of view. She also recognized the difficulty which lay behind it. Originally there had been a mild argument between Mrs. Burton and Miss Patricia on the question of introducing Marguerite Arnot into their Camp Fire family at Versailles. Mrs. Burton was not stupid enough to find fault with Marguerite’s occupation; she had always insisted that she had made her own living by acting from the time she was a young girl, and that therefore persons who felt a sense of superiority to other working women, must also feel superior to her. But she did consider that Miss Patricia had not sufficient knowledge of Marguerite Arnot’s character, or of her previous associations to have so soon invited her into their household. She should have waited until she learned to know her more intimately. There was a possibility that Marguerite herself might not be happy with them under the conditions Miss Patricia had arranged. Her presence might in some way affect the complete happiness of the Camp Fire girls. But Miss Patricia had prevailed, and Yvonne was fairly well able to guess what she must have said to her adored but often thwarted friend. “You yourself, Polly Burton, invited Yvonne Fleury into our Camp Fire family when you met on shipboard and knew nothing but what she chose to tell you of herself. You likewise extended the same invitation to Mary Gilchrist. I made no objection. Please remember that Marguerite Arnot is now my choice.” And of course, since the house at Versailles was Miss Patricia’s and since Mrs. Burton’s objection had not been a serious one, Miss Patricia had had her way. Up to the present time, Mrs. Burton would have been the first person to acknowledge that she had found no criticism in Marguerite Arnot’s behavior. Never had she showed the slightest effort to take advantage of Miss Patricia’s kindness. Moreover, Mrs. Burton, and each one of the Camp Fire girls, had personal reasons for being grateful to her. She had made several of the girls prettier clothes in the last few weeks than they had ever possessed in their lives. And she always seemed to make a special effort in her work for Mrs. Burton. So Yvonne went away to her room where she wrote notes asking her four girl friends, who formed the nucleus of another French Camp Fire unit, to luncheon on the following Saturday. She had sufficient faith to believe they would not feel as Miss Patricia had intimated and her faith was justified. Mrs. Burton had invited as her guest, Madame Clermont, who had promised to take charge of the Camp Fire organization in France. Madame Clermont was in reality an American woman, but she had lived long in France and both looked and talked like a French woman, so that it was difficult not to think of her as one. As a matter of fact she had studied music in Paris for fifteen years and sung at the Opera Comique before marrying a Frenchman. She and Mrs. Burton had known each other slightly for some time, but their acquaintance had developed into a friendship in the interest of the new Camp Fire movement for French as well as for American girls. In the original plan for Miss Lord’s luncheon party, there had been no idea of including any masculine guests. As a matter of fact in a somewhat skilful fashion they invited themselves. But since Miss Patricia did not refuse to allow them to be present, she must really have desired their society. After meeting Sally Ashton so unexpectedly in the streets of Paris, Dan Webster had returned home with them for the evening, but later had received official permission to spend several weeks with his sister, Peggy Webster, and his aunt, Mrs. Burton, in the interval before going home to the United States. Dan was ill from starvation and from his long confinement in a German prison. Mrs. Burton therefore thought it best that he secure a room in their immediate neighborhood and have his meals with them. This arrangement did not please Miss Patricia, who appreciated the embarrassment of including one young man in a family of girls. However, as Dan was Mrs. Burton’s nephew and assuredly needed care, she had made no protest. Later, as usual Miss Patricia had devoted herself to spoiling Dan rather more than any one else. On the day of her luncheon it was Dan who pleaded that Aunt Patricia allow him to appear. Otherwise he was sure he must suffer with hunger through a long winter day. No food to be had at any restaurant could compare with Miss Patricia’s. As Miss Patricia agreed with him in this and her own housekeeping was one of her vanities, Dan had been the entering masculine wedge into the luncheon party. The fact that Dan Webster must not be the only man present, had been Lieutenant Fleury’s plea. Besides, he and Miss Patricia were such old friends, after his visit to her at her farmhouse on the Aisne, that Lieutenant Fleury had protested he could not endure to be cut off from Miss Patricia’s society for a single day. Hearing of Dan’s and Lieutenant Fleury’s good fortune, David Hale had simply looked at Miss Patricia with such unuttered reproach, that she really did weaken to the extent of inviting him. “Young man, I presume you think one more guest cannot make any difference when I have already asked twice as many people as my house can accommodate. You are mistaken. Nevertheless, come along to lunch if you like. No one will have enough to eat, but I would have you on my conscience if you should feel hurt at being left out. Not that you would have the faintest right to be hurt, David Hale. You are absolutely nothing to any of us except a new acquaintance.” After arguing that he was really a great deal more to her than a mere acquaintance, but that Miss Patricia was so far unwilling to acknowledge it, David Hale appeared at the hour of the luncheon with as much cheerfulness as if he had been the most sought after of all the guests. Following a buffet luncheon, at which the three young men had proved themselves extremely useful in helping to serve the guests, who could not be seated at the table, they were invited to go away until after a meeting of the Camp Fire. At the present moment it was four o’clock in the afternoon and the Camp Fire ceremony had ended. The girls were talking together in small groups, Miss Patricia was not in the room, Mrs. Burton and Madame Clermont were arranging for an engagement for the theatre in Paris. “I wonder if you would mind singing for us?” Mrs. Burton asked. “Please don’t if it would trouble you. But I’ve an idea no one of the girls here has ever heard so beautiful a voice as yours!” Madame Clermont smiled. “Of course I shall love to sing. As a matter of fact I have been wounded that you have not asked me before. So it does not require one half that Irish flattery of yours to persuade me! Have you any of your Camp Fire music here with you?” The next half hour the Camp Fire girls listened for the first time in their lives to the Camp Fire music sung by a great artist. In the meantime Miss Patricia wandered back into her drawing room, bringing with her the three young men whom she had found in hiding in her little private sitting room on the second floor of the house. Later Miss Patricia asked for the final song. Madame Clermont had just announced that she could sing but one more song. “Then do sing something more adapted to your voice. This Camp Fire music is fanciful and pretty, but it is intended for young girls and not for you,” Miss Patricia commented with her usual directness. “Hasn’t some one written a song of peace? We have heard enough of the Hymn of Hate for the past four years?” Madame Clermont, who evidently understood and was amused by Miss Patricia’s plain speaking turned at once to answer. “No, Miss Patricia, I have not yet learned a new hymn of peace. We must wait until peace actually arrives before the great song of it can be written. But I would like you to give me your opinion of a song I have just set to music. The verses I found in a New York newspaper and think very wonderful. They tell the story of the visit of a King to France in the old days and then of the coming of our President. I hope you may at least admire the poem as much as I do, even though I may have failed with the music.” Madame Clermont’s voice was a mezzo soprano with a true dramatic quality. Into her present song she put the emotion which France and America had been sharing in the past few weeks. The Old Regime The banners breast the boulevard, The crowds stretch gray and dim; The royal guest nods lightly toward The folk that cheer for him. The King sets out his troops to show The envoy speaks him fair; His eye, it never wavers from From the soldiers marching there. Oh, its gold lace and blue lace And troops in brave array; And it’s your heart and my heart Must bleed for it some day. The Hostess-Queen is fair tonight, Her pearls burn great and dim; The visitor bows low upon The hand she proffers him. The King’s old crafty counselors Sit at the banquet late, Their secret compact safely signed And sealed with seals of State. Oh, it is one year or two years, Or twenty years or ten, Till in the murk of No Man’s Land We’ll pay—we common men. The New Day The folks outsurge the boulevard; Without a crown or sword, A plain man greets the crowds today— They wait a plain man’s word. The hoarse and harrowed peoples wait; For they and theirs—the dead— Have all the savings of their hope With dim deposited. A democrat, a democrat Rides with the Kings today: And can it be the people’s turn, And must the rulers pay? Having finished Madame Clermont came and stood before Miss Patricia. “I hope my song was not too long and that I have not bored you. Thank you for my charming afternoon. I hope I may come to see you at some other time.” Although intending no ungraciousness, Miss Patricia did not reply, instead allowing Mrs. Burton to answer for her. And this was because on one of the few occasions in her life she was permitting herself the enjoyment of a few, hardly wrung tears. Madame Clermont’s song had stirred Miss Patricia’s gallant spirit, with its warm sympathy and love of justice. |
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