CHAPTER VIIILIGHT AND SHADE
Victoria Drew sat on the lowest step leading into the evergreen cabin. This was the name she preferred to call it. Inside Kara lay asleep.
There was no one else at the camp in Beechwood Forest at this moment.
The other girls and the Troop Captain had departed for a day’s hike, not to return until late afternoon.
Nevertheless Tory and Kara had not been alone. This never occurred; Edith Linder had remained to be useful and to relieve Tory. As a matter of fact, the Troop Captain, Miss Mason, and half a dozen girls had insisted that Tory go forth for the long hike. The day was a perfect midsummer day and each and every one of them would gladly remain with Kara.
Tory had declined. In face of the argument that it was her duty to give the other Girl Scouts the opportunity to be useful to Kara, who was their friend as well as her own, Toryinsisted that to-day she was too tired for a long tramp. In any case she would stay on at camp. Some other day she would be glad to change places.
At present Edith Linder had gone the half mile or more away to the little House in the Woods on an errand. She had promised to help prepare supper before the camping party could return. Finding herself in need of supplies she had explained to Tory and slipped away. Kara would not be apt to awaken soon and there appeared no immediate need for her.
In truth Tory was glad to be alone for an hour.
In a short time the sun would set.
Weary Tory believed she wanted an hour for quiet thinking.
Earlier in the day Teresa had confessed that she was feeling a degree of disappointment in the summer camp.
Tory Drew was disappointed, but for different reasons.
The past winter had been the most difficult she could remember. After a wandering existence abroad with her artist father, it had not been simple to find her place and to make friends in Westhaven. Yet she had accomplished both. Her aunt, Miss Victoria Fenton,did not regard her with great affection, nevertheless at least she had agreed that the younger Victoria had become slightly less trying. And she and her uncle, Mr. Richard Fenton, at first not liking each other, had become devoted comrades.
Save for his interest and aid the summer camp, now surrounding her like a quiet guard, would never have been a possibility.
Growing a little restless, Tory changed her position.
Would it not have been better had she gone on the errand to Miss Frean and asked Edith to watch beside Kara. Of late Kara frequently showed that she was weary of so much of her society.
Moreover, without confessing the fact, Tory appreciated that she was suffering from the strain. She was tired and nervous oftener than she was accustomed to feeling.
A quiet talk with Memory Frean and a walk to the House in the Woods would have done her good.
Her uncle had said that he hoped this summer would give them an opportunity for a closer intimacy. He believed that her influence would be of benefit to Tory. If their friendship of long ago had ended, he had notfor that reason ceased to admire Miss Frean.
At this moment a breeze swept through Beechwood Forest, setting the leaves shimmering with a fairylike enchantment.
An instant Tory was aroused from her reflections.
She was alone with no one to disturb her. Why not slip into her tent and find her sketch book? She probably would have time for a sketch before Kara awakened or Edith Linder returned.
Unaware of her own action, Tory shook her head.
She was too tired to sketch, and worse, felt no inspiration or desire. Next to her grief over Kara was her disappointment in regard to her summer’s work.
Miss Mason had agreed that she might try for a Merit Badge as an artist during their camp. Surely she had sufficient talent to have won it. She had looked forward to having an arm filled with worth-while sketches of her outdoor summer to show her father upon his return to Westhaven.
Now she must face the fact that she would have not a single drawing she would care to submit to competent judges, not even a sketch she would be willing to have her father criticize.
Of course she would be glad to have sacrificed her summer to Kara, if Kara had revealed a moderate amount of appreciation.
In truth Kara was not even as fond of her as she had been in the past before she had been able to show her devotion. To do one’s best and always seem inadequate is not a condition many persons can face cheerfully.
Inside, in the room beyond the open door, the other girl stirred, and Tory glanced in.
On a cot by a window Kara lay asleep.
The room had changed since her coming. Formerly it had been the Girl Scout living room. Here they had eaten their meals and held their Scout meetings on the occasional rainy evenings when their more splendid outdoor meeting place had been less comfortable.
This could still be managed if Kara were well enough or in the mood to take part. But always her comfort and her wish were first.
Thrown over her at this moment was a gay woolen cover made by her own Troop of Girl Scouts. During the past winter each of them, who had not known how previously, had learned to knit as a part of their home training. The suggestion had come from Teresa that each girl knit a square of her favorite color, and thus a rainbow scarf might shed good fortune upon Kara.
So far, Tory decided, with a sudden trembling of her lips, the promise had not been fulfilled.
Kara was no happier in body or mind since her return to the camp.
Yet the room in which she was lying at present asleep was altogether charming.
The sunlight, fading into its last brilliancy, shone through pale yellow curtains. On the mantel above the fireplace was a brown bowl of yellow wild flowers. Perched above, with wings outspread, was Mr. Richard Fenton’s last gift to the evergreen cabin, the stuffed figure of an American eagle. A splendid specimen, one instinctively looked up toward it on entering the room. Over it were the words, “The Girl Scouts of the Eagle’s Wing in Beechwood Forest.”
A table drawn up near the couch was filled with flowers, books, magazines and small articles. Scarcely a day passed that Kara did not receive a gift of some kind, not only from the Girl Scouts and their families, but from her many friends in Westhaven.
Yet, apparently, Kara no longer cared for what in the past would have given her happiness. At one time she had been glad to feel that Westhaven did not regard her merely asa little waif who had been left upon their bounty and brought up at the “Gray House.” She was the ward of the entire village. Now this was of no further concern to her.
Tiptoeing softly into the room, Tory closed a window without arousing the sleeper.
Strange to think that Kara long ago had slept in this same room and been rescued by a stranger! What would be her emotions if she knew that in this house, tumbled down and uncared for, she had been deserted as a baby?
Tory decided that she must remember to warn Mr. Jeremy Hammond, who had rescued Kara, never to recall the fact to her mind. Dr. McClain had agreed that for the present this would be wisest, as in no possible way must Kara be excited or depressed.
True, Mr. Hammond had never been to see Kara since her accident! He must have learned of her misfortune. A large box of roses had arrived at the “Gray House.” Yet neither Mr. or Mrs. Hammond nor Lucy had come personally to inquire.
At the thought Tory’s face flushed with annoyance. Mr. Hammond had not been attracted by Kara when he appeared at the orphan asylum with the idea of adopting thelittle girl he had discovered long ago. Instead he had chosen Lucy, the little girl whom Kara had cared for as if she were a small sister. Lucy, at least, should have paid daily visits to see if she could be useful. Possibly she had forgotten Kara amid her new wealth.
“Well,shewould never forget or be unfaithful,” Tory thought with a sudden intensity of feeling characteristic of her. Some day Kara must surely find someone or something to compensate her for her difficult girlhood!
If only there might be a treasure, some fortunate inheritance, hidden away in the little evergreen house, left there by the parents who seemed to have cared less than nothing for their baby!
At her own dreaming Tory smiled. She then tiptoed out of the room again. The place had been thoroughly searched for information and not a line had been discovered save the slip of paper with Kara’s name, “Katherine Moore.”
Outside on the veranda Tory did not sit down at once.
She could see some one approaching toward the camp down the long path. Edith Linder was probably returning. It was, perhaps, as well. Miss Mason, the Troop Captain, insistedthat the girls never be at camp or in the woods alone.
If Miss Frean knew she would doubtless come back with Edith. Tory hoped this might be true. There were so many questions to discuss. Kara had proposed an interesting suggestion earlier in the day. Evan Phillips’ mother might be induced to teach their own little group of Girl Scouts outdoor dancing. Where could there be a more perfect opportunity than here in the heart of Beechwood Forest in their own “Choros,” or dancing-ground?
The figure approaching was not a girl’s.
At some distance off Tory recognized Lance McClain. He was strolling calmly along in the most unconcerned fashion, a book open in his hand. Now and then he glanced down and read a few lines.
Not the slightest intimation did his manner reveal that he ought to regard himself as an unwelcome visitor in the Girl Scout camp.
Tory had not seen him since the morning when he had aided in bringing Kara home. On that occasion he had been told that the girls were still undecided whether they wished to have anything further to do with Lance’s group of Boy Scouts during their summer camping season.
“Hello, Tory; I hoped I would find you outdoors,” he called out amiably when within a few yards of the evergreen house.
Tory ran down the steps.
“Don’t make a racket, Lance! What in the world are you doing here? Kara is asleep and I am on guard. You know you are not supposed to come to our camp. I feel as people used to in the old fairy stories and legends. Somehow I must try to save you from having your head chopped off, or some other fearful end. I do consider you deserve it, but somehow it would be unpleasant.”
“Your gentleness and kindness of heart overpower me, Oh, Victoria of Beechwood Forest,” Lance answered. He bowed in the graceful fashion that for some unexplainable reason often aggravated Tory, and Dorothy and Donald McClain; Lance’s own sister and brother.
Lance was too unlike other boys at times not to be trying.
“Come down to the shore of the lake with me, won’t you Princess Nausicaa?” he demanded. “See how well I remember the name some one bestowed upon you when I was here before. I have another reason for recalling it. I shall explain in another instant if you will be so good as to listen.
“What a pleasure to find you alone! Of course I expected it. I can’t say I should have cared to enter this particular camp if I had been forced to face the entire troop of disapproving maiden Scouts. Still, there is something I am anxious to have brought to your attention. Come along, Tory.”
The girl shook her head.
“Not so far away as the lake, Lance. I’ll come to the big beech here near the cabin. I’ll know then if Kara wakes and wants me, yet we will not be near enough to disturb her.”
Under the deep green shelter Tory looked more searchingly at her companion.
“You say you expected to find me at camp with most of the other girls away. Did you see them on their hike or did Dorothy tell you we were planning an all-day tramp?”
Lance shook his head.
“No, I have seen no one and heard nothing from Dorothy. If I have a secret source of information isn’t that my affair? In any case you would not have me betray another?”
Tory sighed.
“Oh, for goodness sake, Lance, do say what you intend to say in a straightforward fashion. I wish you were more like Don. One can always understand and depend upon Don.”
Then, when she saw Lance flush, Tory regretted her speech.
“I am all too accustomed to that remark, Tory. I assure you that if I have seen any one from your camp or received any information concerning you, it is not because I desired to be disagreeable. I was hoping I might be allowed to extend you the olive branch.
“In fact, I have the olive branch with me. It is hidden away in my book.”
CHAPTER IXTHE ODYSSEY
Tory took the book into her own hands. Sitting down on the ground, she opened the leaves carefully.
Nothing to suggest an olive branch met her gaze, not a pressed leaf or a flower which might have served as a symbol.
Seated beside her, Lance’s thin face, with its tanned skin and humorous brown eyes, peered eagerly over her shoulder.
Tory shook her head.
“Explain yourself again, Lance. What has this book, the story of the wanderings of the Greek hero, Odysseus, after the Trojan war, to do with ending the feud between your troop of Boy Scouts and our own of girls?” Tory patiently inquired. “I know you have some idea in mind, but it takes a cleverer person than I to fathom it.”
Gently Lance removed his book from the girl’s clasp.
“Listen, Tory, for a few moments while I read to you. Then I’ll tell you what I meanand ask for your help if you are willing to give it. You look tired and it may rest you.”
Gladly Tory submitted. Clasping her hands together in her lap, she let her eyes wander from their first glance at the little log cabin with its bright covering of evergreens on and away into the deeper green of Beechwood Forest, now shadowy with the approach of evening.
Lance could be agreeable when he liked. The winter before, when first she had been introduced to Dorothy McClain’s six brothers, she had liked Lance better than the others. She even had preferred him to Don, his twin brother, whom people in Westhaven insisted was the handsomest member of the family.
During an illness of Lance’s she had been able to save him from being seriously burned. Afterwards, curiously, they became less friendly. In any case Tory knew that she at present preferred Don. Not only was he handsomer and stronger and more straightforward, he showed a sincerer liking for her.
“So there the stout-hearted Odysseus lay and slept, worn out with all his toil. But meanwhile Athena went to the Sea-Kings’ city, up to the palace of their ruler, the wise Alcinous and into the beautiful chamberwhere his daughter lay asleep, the young princess, Nausicaa, fair as the Immortals. On either side of the threshold two maidens were sleeping, as lovely as the Graces, and the glittering doors were shut. But the Goddess floated through them like a breath of wind up to the head of the couch, and spoke to Nausicaa in a dream. She seemed to her one of her dear companions, the daughter of Dymas, the sailor.”
As Lance continued reading Tory did not listen attentively. He had a pleasant, quiet voice that shed a restful influence upon her as he had hoped.
Tory was not especially fond of reading, not to the extent that her uncle, Mr. Richard Fenton would have liked. He spent the greater part of his time in his library at the old Fenton house in Westhaven.
Miss Frean in her own little House in the Woods gently reproached Tory now and then for her lack of interest in books. Perhaps neither one of them could understand that pictures were what she cared for intensely. The pictures need not of necessity be of the character that hang upon walls. Tory was seeing pictures at this moment which were affording her the deepest pleasure.
If only she had her neglected sketch book in her hands!
Bent over his book Lance’s head would have made an interesting sketch even if she were unable to obtain a satisfactory likeness.
Then Tory forgot Lance and the outward objects surrounding her. The words he was reading aloud were creating a beautiful image in her mind. She seemed able to see “The Princess Nausicaa, fair as the Immortals.”
Her companion read on:
“So the night passed away, and the young dawn appeared on her glorious throne and awakened the princess.”
With a bang Lance closed his book.
“Stop dreaming, Tory Drew. You scarcely know I am present and I want you to be particularly sensible and attentive to what I am going to say. I suppose you know I have been reading the story of the Odyssey, since you told me Miss Frean had read it to you early in the summer.”
Tory laughed. For all his quietness and apparent gentleness Lance’s nature was more domineering than most persons appreciated. Their friends believed that Don ruled in the intimate friendship between the two brothers. More often than not they were mistaken.
“We have been having a great time at our Scout camp, Tory. Hope you girls have had as good! I have enjoyed the summer a lot better than I expected. I know I have improved in the drilling and a few other things. Lucky for me that I am fond of a few outdoor sports; keeps up my end in the Scout proficiency tests!”
“All right, Lance, but why don’t you come to the point? I know it is hard for you to have to give your time and energy to so many things and never be allowed to study the music you love. But then, of course, your father knows best. I can understand his not wishing you to be a musician,” Tory added hastily, fearing she might appear to be criticising the doctor whom she loved and admired. “I can appreciate your father saying that with six sons and a daughter and he only a small town physician, he never could afford to let you have the musical education you would require.”
“All right, Tory, no use going into that subject now. I have heard all that a good many times. What we were talking about was the Scout organizations, yours and mine. I think they are specially good for us; for you, because you are an only girl and kind ofspoiled by pretty nearly everybody. Good for me because I am a selfish fellow who likes to be alone unless I can hang around with Don. We get the combination of freedom and discipline we both need.
“At first this summer I thought the other fellows were not going to have much use for my queer notions. I thought they stood for me because Don is very nearly the most popular Scout in camp. I was kind of pleased when they chose me to come over to camp and extend the olive branch to you Girl Scouts.”
The thin, brown face was now eager and glowing, but Tory remained as completely mystified.
“Remember the tableaux your troop of Girl Scouts gave in Westhaven this spring? They were a great success and I, for one, shall never forget how you looked as Joan of Arc.
“Ever since our Boy Scout Troop has been trying to get up something as good. This summer we decided would be our best chance with all the fellows together and our officers and several members of our Scout Council staying at camp.”
“Yes,” Tory replied, beginning to be anxious to go back to Kara and wishing Lance would finish what he was endeavoring to say.
The other Girl Scouts might come back to camp at any moment. She did not wish to be discovered seated under a beech tree conversing with Lance McClain, whose presence at their camp was neither invited nor desired. Later she would be able to explain, but for the moment she would not enjoy the position.
Lance smiled.
“I appreciate you are in a hurry, Tory, as well as the other things you are thinking. You need not believe I wish to be discovered here until you have had a chance to make things clear to Miss Mason and the Girl Scouts. But I want to put my proposition to you before you have your outdoor meeting to-night to decide whether you wish to make friends once more.”
Again Tory was puzzled to understand how Lance could know so much of their daily program. His next suggestion drove all other thoughts from her mind.
“To get to the point: After a lot of reading and discussion we have concluded to close our summer holiday with an outdoor pageant. I suppose one should call it a pageant. We are not going to do exactly what other people have been doing all summer. We don’t intend to present New Englandhistory. After the big pageant at Plymouth Rock, it would take a good deal of nerve to try to imitate it. So we have decided to present the ‘Wanderings of Odysseus.’ We are not sure as to details. Our plan is to have a series of Greek tableaux that will tell the story and have some one person read certain of the lines aloud.”
Tory leaned forward.
She appeared interested but doubtful.
“That is a pretty big idea, Lance. Do you feel you will be equal to it? Presenting an American pageant is one thing, but gracious! who knows what Greek pictures should be like?
“Of course, I am sure the girls will be delighted if there is anything we can do to be useful. You were awfully kind about helping us,” Tory continued, feeling she had not appeared as enthusiastic as Lance might have hoped. “But where is the olive branch I am to offer the girls to-night when we have our meeting to decide whether we are willing to make friends?”
Lance flushed and looked uncomfortable.
“The olive branch is what I have been talking about, Tory. The Boy Scouts want you girls to take part in our Greek pageant.We want you to take the feminine rôles. Now, don’t say no, right off, Tory, and don’t be so discouraging as you seem to feel. I confess I am counting on your influence in more ways than one. The truth is the suggestion came from me, and I have had a hard enough time trying to make the other fellows see the thing as I do. Suppose we don’t accomplish anything remarkable, it is fun to have had a try. And it is worth while trying to make people see things and think things that have had to do with other nations at other times in the world’s history. I want you to talk to your uncle, Mr. Fenton, and to ask his advice before we go much further. I suppose you know he is a Greek scholar.”
During Lance’s speech Tory’s expression had become more sympathetic and convinced.
“Perhaps the idea is possible, Lance. In any case, I am delighted to help all I can by talking to Uncle Richard and using whatever influence I have with the girls. Only one thing, you must not count on my taking part. I could not give up the time from being with Kara.”
“I understand, Tory; we’ll see how it works out. I was thinking of Kara as I came over here to talk to you. A lot better than a goodmany other people I believe I can understand Kara’s present state of mind. You see, I have been sick myself. Kara will brace up once she gets hold of herself. Don’t you take anything she says or does too seriously.”
Lance and Tory got up and began walking back toward the evergreen cabin.
“You know if this thing goes through I believe it may be a help to Kara. She isn’t strong enough for a lot of excitement, but it will give her an outside interest. Right now she needs to think of something beside herself.
“I suppose I ought to have strength of character enough not to mention it. But there are days when the fact that I am never going to have a chance to be a great musician gets hold of me, and I know there is nobody on earth then who is as disagreeable as I can be. I don’t see why Kara cannot play some part in the tableaux. She could be seated in her chair as if it were a kind of throne,” Lance concluded.
The girl looked at him gravely.
“You can be a comfort when you wish to be, Lance, and you are right, you can be dreadfully disagreeable. Only you are not very often.
“Would your telling me how you knowwhat we are doing at our Girl Scout camp involve some one else?”
Lance nodded.
“Yes, so I decline to mention names. Now, don’t be stupid and think I mean anything serious. If two people meet they have a right to speak to each other. Good-by, I must be off. I think I hear the Girl Scouts returning. Do the best you can for us.”
CHAPTER XCONSULTATIONS AND DECISIONS
At the close of their evening’s discussion the Girl Scouts had not finally decided whether to accept or reject the invitation tendered them by Tory Drew.
They would be friends again. This opinion was at last unanimous. But to take part in a Greek pageant which would require a sacrifice of time and energy from the routine of their camp life? This represented a deeper problem.
There must be a longer period for consultation. The advice of their Girl Scout Council must be asked. Upon this, Miss Mason, the Troop Captain, insisted, before even expressing her own point of view.
By the following afternoon she and Tory and Edith Linder started out for the little House in the Woods to talk over the idea with Memory Frean, who represented one of their chief sources of wisdom.
The summer afternoon was a perfect one. Illimitably beautiful pale dappled gray clouds filled the summer sky, shutting out the fierce rays of the sun.
As they hoped, from a little distance off the three newcomers discovered Miss Frean busy in her garden.
Tory saw her first. She made a motion with her hand to suggest that they approach softly without being observed.
The older woman wore no hat, and a simple outdoor cotton dress of pale gray, with a deep blue scarf over her shoulders.
Her hair was more carefully arranged than usual in the shining, heavy brown braids Tory so often had admired.
In truth Memory Frean had begun to take more interest in her personal appearance since her meeting with Victoria Drew on the wintry road. So long she had lived alone in her little House in the Woods, with her outdoor interests in the summer time and her books in winter, that she had grown too careless.
The meeting with Tory had brought back old friends and memories. Tory had introduced her to the Girl Scouts of the Eagle’s Wing. Now, as a member of their Council, Memory felt as if the girls were her adopted daughters.
Edith Linder had been in a measure her adopted daughter. She had lived for the past winter in the house with Miss Frean.
Now Edith uttered an exclamation of pleasure, which at Tory’s gesture she quickly subdued.
Memory Frean was standing in the center of a plot of grass with her arms outstretched. Fluttering about her head were a family of wrens. Two had alighted within the palms of her hands and were gazing toward her with serious intentness.
In a nearby tree stood a new bird house, which she must recently have placed in position, as not far off was another bird house smaller and shabbier. Outside the door of the new home a feast of bread crumbs had been spread.
By and by one of the wrens flying near the new abode, pecked at a crumb. Something gave him confidence and courage. Inside the open door he disappeared. Instantly the entire family followed.
The three visitors burst into a cry of admiration. Memory Frean came toward them, still with her arms outstretched.
“I have been expecting you all day. No Girl Scout has been near me since Edith came on a borrowing expedition late yesterday afternoon. If you had waited any longer I should have been offended. See, I have puton a clean dress, and the water is boiling for tea, and the table spread in the Shakespeare garden.”
Miss Frean led the way, with Edith and Tory clinging to her and Sheila Mason following.
The herbs in the Shakespeare garden were in the perfection of bloom. In the fragrance of the summer air mingled the pungent odors of thyme and marjoram, sage and rosemary.
A bunch of the herbs decorated the small round table.
Edith Linder disappeared toward the kitchen for the tea, while the three others sat down.
“Edith Linder has been a success as a Girl Scout this summer, has she not, Sheila? We did our best to prepare for the honor last winter. Edith and I realized that Tory opposed her joining your troop.”
Tory flushed.
“Is it very kind of you, Memory Frean, to refer to one’s past mistakes, especially when I am your guest?”
Memory Frean laid her large but beautiful hand, a little roughened from outdoor work, upon Tory Drew’s sensitive, slender one.
“I suppose I should apologize to you, Tory.I only meant to say that I am glad you finally agreed to allow Edith to enter your Patrol. I do not believe any of you quite realize what the honor meant to her. In a brief time she seems to have changed more than any one I have ever known. She had not had much of a chance in the past. Occasionally last winter, when she was with me, she gave Tory the right to her prejudice.”
The large hand had not been raised from the smaller one.
Still weary, from what cause she could not guess, Tory felt as if the strength and vitality of the older woman were flowing gently into her.
Scarcely listening more than was necessary for politeness, she leaned her head against her companion’s shoulder.
“I believe one of the most difficult things in the world to realize is that when people fail to possess the characteristics we have agreed they ought to possess, the failure nearly always comes from lack of opportunity, not from choice. I don’t mean to be preaching truisms, I was only thinking of this in connection with the Scout organizations. They bring opportunities to so many who would have had no chance otherwise. Edith Linderhad never had the opportunity or the spur she needed. Her ambition to be a good Scout has given her both.
“Wake up, Tory. Are you being nice to Edith as you promised me to be? She likes and admires you, and I am sure would not mind my speaking of this.”
“There are three girls in our summer camp who have the greatest personal influence over the others. It is interesting to watch,” Miss Mason remarked, smiling at the older woman. “Of course, under the circumstances I do not include Kara. Her illness makes her influence of a different kind at present.”
Tory lifted her head, more interested in the discussion.
“Yes, I have noticed this about Margaret Hale and Dorothy McClain. I am not so sure, I think the third girl is Joan Peters,” she ejaculated and relapsed into quiet again.
The two women glanced at Tory and then at Edith Linder, who was at this instant coming across the yard with the tea.
The two girls were an apt illustration of Memory Frean’s last expressed opinion.
Edith had grown tall in the past year. Her features were large and a little coarse, but handsome in their own fashion. There wasabout her a look of capacity. If she had desired she could easily have lifted and carried the other girl who was nearly her own age. Edith’s family had been small farmers for generations. Tory Drew’s had been students and artists and writers. She had no appearance of physical strength and yet her vitality was probably as great.
She looked admiringly at the other girl.
“Edith is splendid. She knows more of cooking and practical things than any girl in camp. She was trying to teach me to cook and we were together a good deal of the time before Kara’s accident. Now I see little of any of the other girls, although I really think Kara often would prefer anyone’s society to mine.”
Edith was by this time engaged in pouring the tea.
“I like to behave as if I were more at home in the House in the Woods than any one of the other Scouts,” she explained. “After all, I am the only one who has lived here, although Tory is an older friend and my greatest rival.”
Edith spoke as if she meant seriously what she was saying. Yet she spoke with entire good nature.
It had been agreed not to discuss the subject of the pageant until her return.
The next half hour the two women and two girls talked of nothing else.
“I believe you should speak to other members of the Council beside me,” Miss Frean argued. “Mr. Fenton is fairy godfather to the camp in Beechwood Forest. He is Tory’s uncle and I think should be consulted. If I remember correctly he used to be a Greek scholar. He is not apt to have forgotten, and if he thinks well of the idea can be of great assistance.”
Before dusk Sheila Mason and Edith Linder started back for camp. They left Tory to have supper with Miss Frean, who promised to bring her home later.
The suggestion had originated with the Troop Captain.
Tory protested that Kara would need her services and be hurt if she failed to appear.
“No, I want Miss Frean to talk to you for a special reason, Tory. I am sure you will find that the other girls, with my help, are capable of caring for Kara this one evening without you.”
The little edge to Miss Mason’s speech Tory had never heard her use before. It left her flushed and silent. She remained alone in the Shakespeare garden while Miss Frean walked a few yards into the woods with her guests.
In what fashion was she failing as a Girl Scout, that her Troop Captain felt compelled to ask some one else to lecture her? Why had she not told her wherein lay her fault?
Tory found her eyes filling with tears. She was glad to be for a few moments alone. Not often was she given to this particular form of weakness. She disliked it in other persons, but of late her nerves had been troublesome. Were the other Girl Scouts finding her a difficult member of their camp group?
By and by the older woman returned. At first she and Tory said nothing upon any intimate topic. They continued to stroll about the garden until dusk.
Their supper was to be a simple meal of bread and milk and fruit that would give no trouble.
Since she had begun to study and love the New England country this garden of Memory Frean’s had become of intense interest and affection to the young American girl who had spent so much of her life in foreign lands.
Within the yard and upon the border of the deep woods beyond she had learned the names of a wide variety of trees, birds and flowers. She knew the differences between the white and black and yellow pines, thespruce and the cedar and the several species of maple trees, the ashes and the birches. She had learned that the beech tree is singularly arrogant and permits few other trees to grow inside its woods.
At this season of the year the birds were less in evidence than earlier in the spring. Now, as darkness fell, Tory discovered that a greater number sang their evensong in Memory Frean’s garden than near their own camp in Beechwood Forest. True, Miss Frean made everything ready for their reception.
Placed about the yard were half a dozen wide open bowls filled with fresh water.
The garden boasted a hedge of currant and raspberry bushes at present loaded with ripe fruit. There were no scarecrows about and no one ever made an effort to drive the birds away, so they were accustomed to plucking the unforbidden fruit of this garden.
This evening Tory assisted at the daily scattering of crumbs. This took place when possible at exactly the same hour.
Afterwards she and Memory Frean hid behind a shelter, where concealed they could watch the flight of the birds into the garden.
Some floated in from outside, others came down from their nests in Miss Frean’s own trees to partake of her hospitality.
This evening, appearing with the more regular visitors, was a golden-winged warbler, splendid with his conspicuous yellow wing bars. Close behind him came a pair of tanagers.
The female Tory did not recognize until Memory Frean explained that she was a dull green olive in color, unlike her brilliant, scarlet-coated husband.
In fact, Tory and Miss Frean did not go indoors until, from somewhere deep in the woods, a whippoorwill began his evening call.
In the meantime Tory had happily forgotten there was any subject to be discussed between herself and her friend that might not be an altogether happy one.
She did think of it, however, while she was eating her supper on a small table in Memory Frean’s living-room, drawn up before a small fire.
The night was not particularly cool, yet the fire was not uncomfortable, and had been lighted at Tory’s request.
The older woman had finished eating and sat holding an open magazine in her hands.
Tory’s eyes studied the room, with which she now had grown familiar, with the same curiosity and pleasure. The room was sosimple and odd. The hundreds of old books in their worn coverings, only a few new ones among them, lined the walls. By the window, the couch was covered with an old New England quilt, of great value, if Tory had realized the fact. The furniture was so inexpensive, the little pine table before her, the larger one with Memory Frean’s lamp and books and a bowl of flowers, the chairs and long bench.
What a contrast to her own austere and handsome home in Westhaven, now the property of her uncle and aunt, Mr. Richard Fenton and Miss Victoria Fenton. If Memory Frean and her uncle had not ceased to care for each other perhaps there would have been no little House in the Woods.
Tory finished her supper and her reflections.
“Memory Frean, what is it Miss Mason wished you to talk about to me? How am I failing as a Girl Scout?”
When no one else was present she used the older woman’s first name, loving its dignity and soft inflections.
Memory Frean put down her magazine.
“You are not failing, Tory, not in one sense. You are trying to accomplish too much. This is, of course, another form of failure. Takeyour dishes in to the kitchen and then sit here on the stool by me.”
Five minutes after she continued:
“You see, Tory, it is with Kara you are making a mistake. You are doing yourself and Kara both injustice. Miss Mason tells me she has talked to you and that the other Girl Scouts have protested, yet you remain selfish about Kara.”
The girl made no answer. If she did not like the accusation, she did not at present deny it.
“From the first you have been sentimental over your friendship with Katherine Moore. Kara first made a strong appeal to you when you were lonely and antagonistic toward your new life in a small New England town. This drew her closer to you than had you grown up together in ordinary girl fashion. Besides, you are romantic, Tory. You respond to the people who call forth that side of you. The mystery surrounding poor Kara has fascinated you. The fact that she knew nothing of her parents has made you feel that you could be more to her than had she enjoyed the family affection other girls receive. I believe in your heart of hearts you have planned some day to be Kara’s fairy godmotherand make up to her for what she has failed to receive.”
“Well, if I have, is it so wicked of me?” Tory demanded.
Memory Frean smiled.
“I am afraid so, Tory dear, although many wise persons may not agree with me. I don’t think it often is allowed us to play special Providence to other people. Since Kara’s accident more than ever have you been trying to accomplish this for her. You have been wearing yourself out and Kara feels this and cannot enjoy it. In their own ways the other Girl Scouts resent your belief that Kara must always prefer you to be with her and to care for her. She was their friend and they knew and loved her before she came into your life.
“Together you agreed to bring Kara to camp and to see if you could make things easier for her. The other girls want their chance too, Tory. Don’t you realize, dear, that you are growing tired out from too much responsibility. You can’t help Kara if you are tired and nervous and, though you may not confess it to yourself, a little resentful of your own disappointment in the summer.
“Remember you told me what a lot of outdoor sketching you intended to do. Yourfather had given you permission to work at your painting and drawing in the summer time, provided you gave your time and energy to your school in the winter. You have not shown me a new drawing since Kara’s accident.
“Then, don’t you suppose the other girls miss having you with them on some of their excursions? Martha Greaves, the English Girl Guide, must have felt many times that you have been neglecting her. She is a stranger and in a way has the right to depend upon you. Am I reproaching you for too much all at once, Tory?”
The girl arose up from her low stool and stood with her hands clasped and a frown on her forehead.
“You have said a good deal, Memory Frean. If you don’t mind, suppose we start back to camp.”
Tory made no other reply. After a little she and Memory Frean were walking along the path that led in the direction of Beechwood Forest.
Tory was no more fond of criticism than most persons, and less accustomed to it. Her mother had died when she was a small girl, and her father had been her devoted friend and admirer, rarely her judge. To heraunt Miss Victoria Fenton’s efforts at discipline Tory had yielded little. Her uncle, Mr. Richard Fenton, made no attempt at discipline, but had been sympathetic toward her after the birth of a rare understanding between them.
To-night Tory was angry with the person whom, next to Kara, she had believed her dearest friend in Westhaven.
Mistakes she may have made in her devotion to Kara. But Memory Frean, Sheila Mason, her Troop Captain, and her own Girl Scouts might have appreciated the situation.
She had been with Kara when the accident took place that might result in the tragedy of her life. Dr. McClain and the two surgeons with whom he consulted could only say there was a possibility of a future recovery. But before anything could be hoped for Kara must reach a happier state of mind and body.
Never had there been any pretence that she and Kara were not more intimate and devoted than any other two girls in their Troop, save perhaps Dorothy McClain and Louise Miller.
Then what was one to do but give Kara all that one possessed?
However, if Kara were wearying of this and really preferred the other girls, Tory appreciated that she was probably being a nuisance. She would not speak of it to Memory Frean or Miss Mason, but in the future Kara should not be so bored by her society.
Walking on together through the woods, once Memory Frean attempted to put her arm inside Tory’s. Quietly Tory drew away.
The dusk was deepening. After a time footsteps behind them could be heard. It was as if some one were following them.
A screech owl called and startled her; Tory had a sudden attack of nerves; running ahead a few yards, she stumbled. The footsteps were coming nearer.
Memory Frean put an arm about her.
“Stand still, Tory. Let us wait here and see who is approaching.”