Ethel Hollister's Second Summer as a Campfire Girl Part 2

"Why, Mother, where's the man?"

"Never mind," replied her mother, "he'll come."

"Mother, you're a born matchmaker!" exclaimed the girl. "I wish you had had other daughters."

"Heaven forbid!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Hollister with a funny little smile.

"One is enough."

"Is that intended for a compliment?" laughed the girl. "If so it's a doubtful one."

During the month of May, Harvey would invite her to go horseback riding up to Van Cortlandt Park. They had to make it Sat.u.r.days, as that was Ethel's only free day. They usually started early. On the country roads the apple and peach blossoms were like pictures. To the girl they brought back the previous spring at Aunt Susan's, and especially the morning when she had revealed to Ethel the sad story of her married life. On one of these excursions the girl related it to Harvey.

"By George!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed when she had finished, "that old lady is a sport and no mistake. She's all right. I imagined she was made of different stuff from other women, and do you know I sort of suspected that she hadn't all the money that your mother thought she had. She was too refined and showed good blood. Had she been so wealthy, from her dressing people might have taken her for a miser, and gentle folks are seldom misers. I thought that it was necessity that caused her to wear those old-fas.h.i.+oned clothes, so I argued that though Mrs. Hollister imagined her wealthy and that you were in a line to inherit her money there was a great mistake somewhere. But pshaw! as for that every mother is ambitious for her daughter. Why, my mother left no stone unturned until she had married Edith to Lord Ashurst, and I must admit that I was easily led by my mother. Why, I've been out for a rich wife ever since I left school; but, Ethel, I've changed. Now I propose to pay my bills with the money I earn, not with hers; nor shall I allow her to buy what she wears."

"Does your mother realize how you feel?" asked Ethel, pus.h.i.+ng her fair, curling locks from her eyes.

"Bless you, yes. She and I had one long talk, and after it I tell you there was something doing in the Bigelow family; but Nannie who has lots of horse sense sided with me, and together we were too many for mother.

She saw that it was up to her to make the best of it and she did, but like your mother she still cherishes her ambitions. Nan said to her:

"'You have one daughter who has done the grand marriage stunt and she's some cla.s.s. Do let us choose for ourselves."

"What did your mother say to that?" laughed Ethel.

"I think she boxed Nannie's ears and then apologized. She loses her self-control sometimes. Poor mother," and Harvey laughed. "Nannie has some temper, too, and don't you make any mistake."

Ethel was beginning to have a real friendly feeling for Harvey. He asked many questions about her cousin Kate.

"She rings true," he said. "I liked her from the first."

"She _is_ true," replied Ethel. "You'll see her this summer, and I'm sure you'll like Uncle John and his wife. He's just a dear."

Those were red letter days for Ethel. She enjoyed the air, the scenery, and the rides; and she enjoyed talking to Harvey, for now that he understood she could talk to him as though he were one of the family--without restriction and without embarra.s.sment.

"What puzzles me," said Ethel, "is the way our mothers argue. When they plan our marriages it's only money and position. Love never seems to enter into their heads. Oh! I grew so tired of it. Thank G.o.d it's over, and our family are now normal. Even Grandmother wished me to marry well.

I had far rather be an old maid than to be tied to a man for whom I care nothing, and have to sit opposite and pour tea for him three hundred and sixty-five days in a year. Imagine the horrible monotony of that. I heard that advice given to a girl in a play and I never forgot it; and if only girls could be brought to realize beforehand the sin of it there would be fewer unhappy marriages."

CHAPTER IV

ETHEL'S SECOND TRIP

The time arrived for the Hollisters to start. There were tears in Archibald Hollister's eyes as he kissed them goodbye at the train. Within the last year his life had been happier. He had seen more of his wife and had grown to love her better than he had since Ethel was a child. She and he were together nearly all of the time, and it was like reading over a forgotten love story.

"Don't you worry, papa," said Ethel, patting his cheek. "We're going to keep well and have a lovely summer, and when you come up for your vacation you'll be like a boy again."

"Yes, Archie," spoke up Mrs. Hollister "Be sure that Mirinda gives you good things to eat and has them well cooked. She'll have little else to do, and you go out and call on the Bigelows and Judsons. Take in the moving pictures and roof gardens. I'll trust you," she laughed, "but don't fail to write me three times a week, will you, telling me how things are going on. And don't let Mirinda's young man come to the house but once a week and on Sundays."

"Remember everything," laughed Ethel.

Grandmother kissed her son and murmured:

"G.o.d bless you, Archie. I expect to take on a new lease of life."

"Do mother," said the man, "we all need you."

The trip was pleasant. The scenery was fine and the country looked as though it had been freshly swept and dusted, everything seemed so clean.

Grandmother's eyes glistened with pleasure. They were to stop at Akron first, where they were to leave Grandmother, and after a visit of a week Ethel and her mother were to go on to Columbus and hence to Camp.

As the train drew into the depot at Akron, there stood Tom with Aunt Susan, but what a metamorphosis! Tom just escaped being a fas.h.i.+onably dressed swell. He was too manly for that. He wore a blue serge suit, colored negligee s.h.i.+rt with tie to match, a Panama hat, and russet ties.

His handsome face was so full of character that Mrs. Hollister whispered to Ethel:

"What a remarkably distinguished looking man he is. You never told me of his being so."

Ethel blushed when Tom took her up and kissed her as he might have done had she been his sister, and as for Aunt Susan, even Grandmother gazed at her with amazement. She was attired in a modish little automobile bonnet, close fitting and of grey, while her grey linen suit gave her an up-to-date air, for now, she proudly informed Ethel, Tom owned his own car.

"Aunt Susan, you look out of sight," said Ethel, kissing her. "I never knew you."

Mrs. Hollister was happy. Ethel had not half told her, and she was agreeably disappointed. They took their seats in the new and commodious car and soon reached the little house. The ingrain and rag carpets had disappeared. In their places were Oriental rugs. Striped red awnings shaded the windows and piazzas. The porch had been converted into the cosiest of lounging places with willow furniture, scarlet cus.h.i.+ons, rugs, birds, plants, etc., as well as small tables filled with the latest magazines and Aunt Susan's sewing baskets. They had a hammock at either end, and altogether it was lovely. Mrs. Hollister simply raved over it and the artistic interior with its fine old furniture.

"Ethel is responsible for this change," said Tom, removing his hat and wiping his handsome brow. "Last summer when she came here I dressed like a countryman, but in the most tactful manner she suggested high collars, different ties, and fairly talked my army hat right off my head, saying that I looked like a G.A.R. Little by little she's converted Aunt Susan into a fas.h.i.+onable woman. But how careless of me. Let me get you a cup of tea," he said to Mrs. Hollister, placing a table before her and a stool under her feet.

He soon returned, bringing the tray and a plate of delicious jumbles.

"You see," he continued, "Aunt Susan will not keep two girls, so I have to be waitress now and then. She is attached to Jane, who though is a good cook, but her trouble is she's set in her way and refuses to stay if we allow another girl to enter the house. We are handicapped, you see, for we can't spare Jane, nor could we replace her."

Gradually he took Mrs. Hollister into his confidence and told her of his early life and of Aunt Susan's misfortunes. "But bless you," he continued, "the Lord is good to us. She'll never need a penny for my income is increasing and my practice is more than I can attend to. I should have a partner but she won't hear of my taking one. She is too cautious. So I have several young students who study law in my office and help me as well."

Then he proceeded to extol Ethel.

"Mrs. Hollister," he said, "she's a girl of wonderful character and she'll make a magnificent woman. I notice she's improved since she was here."

"Yes, it's her college," replied her mother, "and the life at camp last summer. I must admit she knew more than I when she broke loose from my foolish and unwise influence. I was not fit to guide her, Mr. Harper, I realize it now."

"Never mind, madam; it's to you she owes her beauty. Why, you and she look exactly like sisters," whereupon Mrs. Hollister capitulated to Tom Harper. She couldn't speak of him with enough enthusiasm and praise. She wrote pages to Archibald.

"My dear, everyone says he'll yet be Governor, and while I wouldn't have you breathe it for the world I'm sure he's in love with Ethel. What a couple they'd make. Of course she has no suspicion of such a thing, nor would I hint it to her; but you wait and see."

Mr. Hollister smiled as he read his wife's letter, and his heart was glad. He had known Tom Harper's father and had respected him highly.

"Well," he thought, "this time Bella is on the right tack. I'll not interfere," and he softly whistled "Comin' Thro' the Rye."

CHAPTER V