The Carter Girls' Week-End Camp. Speed Nell
was!” enthused Dum Tucker as Douglas showed them to their tent where three other girls were to sleep, too. “Isn’t this just too lovely?”
“I’m not smart, it’s Helen who thought up this plan,” insisted Douglas. “We are so glad you have come and we do hope you will like it.”
“Like it! We are wild about it,” cried Dee, and Page Allison was equally enthusiastic.
“Where is Helen?” demanded Dum.
“She is chief cook and can’t make her appearance until she has put the finishing touches to supper.”
“Does she really cook, herself?” cried Dee. “How grand!”
“Sometimes she cooks herself,” drawled Nan, coming into the tent to see the Tuckers, who were great favorites with her, too, “sometimes when we get out of provisions, which we are liable to do now as six persons have come who had not written me for accommodations.”
“Mother and father got here from a long trip this afternoon,” explained Douglas, “and we are so upset over seeing them that we are rather late. Helen usually does all she has to do before the week-enders come.”
“Let us help!” begged Dee. “Dum and I can do lots of stunts, and Page here is a wonderful pie slinger.”
“Well, we would hardly press Miss Allison into service when she has just arrived,” smiled Douglas.
“Please, please don’t Miss Allison me! I’m just Page and my idea of camping is cooking, so if I can help, let me,” and Page, who had said little up to that time, spoke with such genuine frankness that Douglas and Nan felt somehow that a new friend had come into their circle.
“We’ll call on all three of you if we need you,” promised Douglas, hastening off with Nan to see that other guests had found their tents and had what they wanted in the way of water and towels.
“Isn’t this great?” said Dee. “I’m so glad Zebedee thought of coming. I think Douglas Carter looks healthy but awful bothered, somehow.”
“I thought so, too. I’m afraid her father is not so well or something. Think of Helen Carter’s cooking!” wondered Dum.
“Why shouldn’t she?” asked Page. “Is she so superior?”
“No, not that,” tweedled the twins.
“Helen’s fine but so – so – stylish. Mrs. Carter is charming but she is one butterfly and we always rather expected Helen to be just like her – more sense than her mother, but dressy,” continued Dee.
“You will know what Mrs. Carter is, just as soon as you look at her hands,” declared Dum. “If the lilies of the field were blessed with hands they would look exactly like Mrs. Carter’s.”
“Well, come let’s find Zebedee. I smelt apples frying,” and the three friends made their way to the pavilion where Mrs. Carter was receiving the week-enders with all the charm and ceremony she might have employed at a daughter’s debut party.
Her reception of the Tuckers was warm and friendly. It had been months since she had seen anyone who moved in her own circle and now there were many questions to ask of Richmond society. Jeffry Tucker, who could make himself perfectly at home with any type, now laid himself out to be pleasant to his hostess. He told her all the latest news of Franklin street and recounted the gossip that had filtered back from White Sulphur and Warm Springs. He turned himself into a society column and announced engagements and rumors of engagements; who was at the beach and who was at the mountains. He even made a stagger at the list of debutantes for the ensuing winter.
“I mean that Douglas shall come out next winter, too,” said the little lady during the supper that followed. Nan, seeing that her mother was having such a pleasant time with the genial Jeffry Tucker, arranged to have the Tuckers placed at the table that had been set aside for their mother and father. The Carter girls made it a rule to scatter themselves through the crowd the better to look after the hungry and see that no one’s wants were unsatisfied.
“Ah, is that so? I had an idea she was destined for college. It seems to me that Tweedles told me she had passed her Bryn Mawr exams.”
“So she did, but I am glad to say she has given up all idea of that foolishness. I am very anxious for her to make her debut.”
Nan, who was making the rounds of the various tables to see that everyone was served properly, overheard her mother’s remark and glanced shyly at Mr. Tucker. She caught his eye unwittingly but there was something in the look that he gave her that made her know he understood the whole situation and was in sympathy with Douglas, who was very busy at the next table helping hungry week-enders to the rapidly disappearing potato salad.
There was a rather pathetic droop to Douglas’ young shoulders as though the weight of the universe were getting a little too much for her. Mr. Tucker looked from her to Robert Carter who seemed to be accepting things as he found them with an astonishing calmness. He was certainly a changed man. Remembering him as a person of great force and energy, who always took the initiative when any work was to be done or question decided, his old friend wondered at his almost flabby state. Here he was calmly letting his silly wife, because silly she seemed to Jeffry Tucker, although charming and even lovable, put aside his daughter’s desires for an education and force her into society. He could see it all with half an eye and what he could not see for himself the speaking countenance of the third Carter, Nan, was telling him as plainly as a countenance could. He determined to talk with the girl as soon as supper was over and see if he could help her in some way, how, he did not know, but he felt that he might be of some use.
The supper was a very merry one in spite of the depression that had seized poor Douglas. She tried not to let her gloom permeate those around her. Helen was in a perfect gale and the Tucker Twins took their cue from her and the ball of good-humored repartee was tossed back and forth. Tillie Wingo was resplendent in a perfectly new dancing frock. The beaux buzzed around her like bees around a honey pot. The silent Bill Tinsley kept on saying nothing but his calf eyes were more eloquent than any words. He had fallen head over heels in love with the frivolous Tillie from the moment she offered to tip him on the memorable occasion of her first visit to the camp. Lewis Somerville, usually with plenty to say for himself, was almost as silent as his chum, Bill. It seemed as though Douglas’ low spirits had affected her cousin.
“What is it, Douglas?” he whispered, as he took the last plate of salad from her weary hand. “You look all done up. Are you sick?”
“No, indeed! Nothing!”
“When the animals have finished feeding, I want to talk to you. Can you give me a few minutes?”
“Why, of course, Lewis, as many as you want.”
Douglas and Lewis had been friends from the moment they had met. That had been some eighteen years before when Douglas had been crawling on the floor, not yet trusting to her untried legs, and Lewis, just promoted from skirts to breeches, had proudly paraded up and down in front of his baby cousin. There never had been a problem in Douglas’ life that she had not discussed with her friend, but she felt a delicacy in talking about this trouble that had arisen on her horizon because it would mean a certain criticism of both her mother and sister.
“Walk after supper?” Bill whispered to Tillie. “Something to say.” Tillie nodded an assent.
Supper over, the tables and chairs were piled up in a twinkling and the latest dance record put on the Victrola.
“Why, this is delightful!” exclaimed Mrs. Carter, looking around for Mr. Tucker to come claim her for the first dance, but she saw that gentleman disappearing over the mountainside with Nan.
“Nan is entirely too young for such nonsense!” she exclaimed with some asperity, but partners were forthcoming a-plenty so she was soon dancing like any girl of eighteen, while her indulgent husband smoked his pipe and looked contentedly on.
Susan and Oscar washed the dishes with more rattling than usual as Oscar had much grumbling in store for the delinquent Susan.
“Wherefo’ you done lef’ yo’ wuck to Miss Helen?”
“I’s