CHAPTER XIOUT OF THE PAST
The stranger was a middle-aged man with iron-gray hair. He was carrying his hat in his hand and enjoying the beauty and fragrance of the late evening in the woods.
As Tory rushed toward him, Miss Frean stepped back into a deeper shadow.
The newcomer was Tory’s uncle, Mr. Richard Fenton.
“How stupid of me to have been frightened!” she exclaimed. “I have been taking supper with Miss Frean and she is walking back to camp with me. You were coming to camp to see us?”
Mr. Fenton agreed, walking forward to speak to Memory Frean. Except for an occasional meeting upon the streets of Westhaven, and one or two brief conversations with regard to the Girl Scout camp in Beechwood Forest, they had not seen each other in many years.
To-night in the depth of the woods, withTory walking between them, they talked as if neither of them recalled any past intimacy.
“I have been a little worried about you, Tory,” Mr. Fenton said finally. “You have not been in town to see me in a number of days. I thought it was agreed that we were to see each other once a week.”
Tory nodded.
“Yes, I have missed you dreadfully, but I have been so busy. I thought if you became very lonely you would come and find me,” she announced, with the familiarity of a delightful intimacy.
By and by when Miss Frean and Mr. Fenton continued talking, the barrier between them increasing, Tory scarcely listened, thinking their conversation not particularly entertaining.
They were merely discussing the weather and the scenery.
In another quarter of an hour the lights of the camp showed nearby. Darkness had not completely descended. Outdoors one could still see one’s way.
The chief lights appeared inside the evergreen cabin, while in front of the door stood a large automobile.
Fearing that Kara had grown unexpectedlyworse, Tory darted away from her companions and into the cabin.
The car she saw was not Dr. McClain’s.
Entering the room, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, she found it filled with people.
Kara sat in the center in her wheeled chair. She looked pale but excited and interested.
Three visitors were standing near her. They were Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy Hammond and the little girl, Lucy Martin, whom they had adopted some months ago.
In the years at the old Gray House on the hill in Westhaven Lucy had been Kara’s special charge.
If Tory had been fascinated by the little girl’s extraordinary beauty in the past, she was more startled to-night. The room was lighted only by candles and a single large lamp under a yellow shade.
Lucy wore a pale yellow dress of some filmy, soft material and a large hat circled with a wreath of flowers.
She had removed her hat and held it as one would a large basket. Her dark hair made a stiff aureole about her delicately cut face with its pointed chin, large brilliantly black eyes and full red lips.
Then Tory was both startled and repelled by the younger girl’s expression.
She was staring at Kara with no suggestion of sympathy or affection; instead, she looked shocked and frightened and even disdainful.
Kara was extending her hands toward the little girl with more animation and pleasure than Tory had seen her reveal since her accident.
And actually, with a faint shudder, Lucy was drawing away.
An impulse to seize the little girl by the shoulders and forcibly thrust her out of the evergreen cabin assailed Tory.
She moved forward. In the meantime Mr. and Mrs. Hammond, becoming aware of Lucy’s behavior, were endeavoring to conceal her rudeness.
“Kara, Lucy has been insisting each day that we bring her to see you. We did not know at first that you had gone from the Gray House. Afterwards Mr. Hammond was away for a short time and we were waiting for him,” Mrs. Hammond remarked, speaking hurriedly but with extreme graciousness.
She was a pretty, exquisitely dressed woman of about thirty years with light brown hair and eyes. She appeared an agreeable society woman but without any especial force ofcharacter. Evidently if she cared a great deal for Lucy, the little girl in time would have small difficulty in having her own way.
This would not be equally true with Mr. Hammond.
At present he was divided by annoyance with his adopted daughter and a kind of puzzled curiosity.
He was staring about the gay room filled with girls and then at the figure in the wheeled chair.
Kara appeared to be interested in no one save Lucy.
Now as the child shrank away from her, her thin hands dropped in her lap, her face looked whiter and her gray eyes with the heavy dark lashes grew sadder and more wistful.
A little murmur, not actually voiced and yet capable of being heard, ran through the room.
This time Lucy must have understood the antagonism among the group of Girl Scouts that her manner had created.
At one time, and only a few months before, Kara had been everything to her, sister and nurse and friend. A few months of wealth and she seemed completely spoiled.
“You have many friends, Kara, but if there is anything Mr. Hammond and I could possibly do for you, you have only to let us know,” Mrs. Hammond suggested at this moment, not very tactfully.
“You are very kind, but there is nothing to be done,” Kara returned coldly.
Apparently she had lost all interest in her guests, now that Lucy had so utterly forgotten the old days at the Gray House on the hill. She always had been an odd little creature, passionate, self willed and self seeking. Still, Kara had never doubted her affection.
Not yet eight o’clock and Kara not expected to retire until nine, nevertheless Tory looked about the room in search of Miss Mason. Kara was being wearied. Better the room full of people be asked to go outdoors. They could talk on in the deepening dusk.
At the open door Sheila Mason was talking to Miss Frean and Mr. Richard Fenton. At the moment she was not thinking of Kara and the three other visitors.
Trying to make up her mind to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Hammond herself, Tory saw that Mr. Hammond suddenly appeared restless and at the same time absorbed in thought.
“See here, Miss Kara, I wonder if you would like me to tell you something? I am not perfectly sure and perhaps have not the right to speak. Yet after all I am pretty well convinced that I am not making a mistake and you cannot fail to be interested. You need things to interest you these days, don’t you?”
Mr. Hammond spoke abruptly. Tory considered that his manner was kinder and he showed more interest in Kara than upon the day when he had come to the old Gray House to seek the little girl he had rescued years before. Then he had been fascinated by Lucy and Kara had been disregarded.
Kara looked up now with slightly more animation.
“Yes, I do need something to interest me these days, Mr. Hammond. I am afraid you will find me pretty difficult. Only a few weeks ago I cared so intensely for our summer camp in Beechwood Forest and every one of our Girl Scout occupations that nothing else appeared of the slightest importance. Now when everyone is so good to me I don’t seem interested in anything. There are so many Scout subjects I could study when I have so much time and I don’t care to take the trouble. I really am stronger perhaps than I pretend to be.”
Kara’s tone was so unhappy and listless that Mr. Hammond’s agreeable face clouded.
“Your state of mind is due to the fact that you have not recovered from the shock of your fall. You won’t feel like that always, sure not to, a girl with the courage and good sense you have always revealed. Still, what I am going to tell you is obliged to stir you up. I don’t believe you will object to the other Girl Scouts hearing what I tell you. You are such devoted friends.
“Ever since I entered this pretty room I have experienced an odd sensation connected with it. Somehow it seemed associated with you. This may not appear remarkable, the room is now your sanctuary and I am sure everything in it is for your service. But that is not what I have in mind.
“I was haunted by an almost forgotten impression. As I drove up to the cabin this afternoon, I felt that I had been in this vicinity before. Here something unusual had taken place which had left a strong impression upon me. I felt this more keenly when I entered this room, although I never beheld any other room so gay and pretty and filled with so many girls.
“The room was not always like this, Kara.You Girl Scouts must have seen the room a little as I beheld it a number of years ago, when you chose this spot for your summer camping grounds.
“Did I not once confide to you, Kara, that I discovered a tiny little girl in a deserted farmhouse when I was a young man, riding along a lane in this neighborhood? It looked more like an abandoned farm in those days to a man who knew extraordinarily little about farms. Perhaps the little house was never anything more than a cabin in the woods, with farmlands in the neighborhood. If so, they have vanished. Do you recall, Kara, the little girl I discovered and who she afterwards turned out to be?”
At last Tory Drew felt her senses returning, and at the same time an impulse to action. During Mr. Hammond’s rambling story she had remained quiet, listening and yet all the time knowing its conclusion.
Previously Dr. McClain had impressed upon her the fact that Kara had been found in the little house in which she was living at present. If Mr. Hammond had once called the cabin a farmhouse, Dr. McClain had always been certain of its identity.
It was the doctor’s opinion that Kara mustnot for the present be excited or disturbed by any reference to this fact.
At last Tory was aware that she should have spoken sooner, that any protest from her at present would come too late.
With all her listlessness vanished Kara was leaning forward, her eyes on the speaker, while the other Girl Scouts appeared almost equally interested.
CHAPTER XIIRETROSPECTION
“Now that I look back, the room seems to have been extraordinarily clean under the circumstances, although it was bare and poor,” Mr. Hammond continued. “There was just a bed and some chairs and a table. You were lying on the bed, Kara, and if you had objected to being left alone, you were perfectly agreeable and sweet tempered after I made your acquaintance. I remember you were extremely amiable during our ride together into Westhaven. You gave me an impression which I still carry with me that you would meet most situations with grace and good sense.”
Mr. Hammond began wandering about the room. He appeared embarrassed by the intensity of Kara’s attitude and the conviction that possibly he had not chosen a wise time or place for his revelation.
In fact, he had no intention of speaking of the matter at all. Surprise at finding himself a visitor to the girl in the same spot where hehad discovered her as a baby had influenced his discretion.
“Is there anything else you could tell me, Mr. Hammond? You need not regret having spoken before the other girls. They are my friends and really know as much of my history as I know, there is so little information I have ever received.”
“No, I am afraid not, Kara, I am sorry. Now and then I have considered that possibly we did not make a sufficiently thorough investigation. Yet I do not honestly believe this. At the time I searched the room thoroughly. I waited, thinking that in all probability some one would come back for you. Then, when I gave up this idea and took you with me to Westhaven, we did not fail in making another effort.
“Dr. McClain, I recall, insisted upon this and we came out here together. Moreover, we left a letter stating that if any one desired to find you, information could be had of Dr. McClain in Westhaven.”
“There does not seem to be any doubt, no one ever did return and no one ever wished to find me. I have always thought, almost hoped that my mother and father were dead,” Kara answered.
No one else had spoken during the grave and dramatic conversation between Kara and Mr. Hammond. In fact, Kara herself had said little. Now her words affected the room filled with her friends with a sense of tragedy.
Tory Drew moved near the other girl, standing beside her in a defensive attitude, as if disaster must first meet her before it could again touch the friend so dear to her.
Mrs. Hammond took Lucy’s hand in her own, attempting to draw the little girl toward the open door. Some day she hoped that Lucy might altogether forget the Gray House and think of herself as her own and Mr. Hammond’s child.
At last Sheila Mason had ceased her talk with Mr. Fenton and Miss Frean. She turned toward the center of the room, looking as if she wished to ask Mr. and Mrs. Hammond to say farewell. Then the interest in Kara’s face and in Mr. Hammond’s words forbade the interruption.
Memory Frean had come into the room and Mr. Richard Fenton stood immediately behind her. He was watching Tory.
“I am afraid I have said too much or too little and perhaps tired or worried you, Kara. If you like, suppose we have a long, quiet talksome day alone. I’ll come again to see you and we can go out into the woods together.”
Conscious of the atmosphere and of his own imprudence, Mr. Hammond picked up his hat and stick which he had placed upon a table.
Again his own interest in the situation became stronger than other impressions.
Walking toward Kara’s chair, he pushed the chair a few feet nearer the wall.
Without explaining his purpose he moved aside a rug which lay on the floor and struck the boards with his cane.
“Has this floor ever been taken up and a new one laid down?” he inquired, apparently of Victoria Drew, who chanced to be standing nearer than any one else.
Tory shook her head.
“I don’t think so. The floor was in extremely good condition when we decided to make this cabin the center of our camp in Beech wood Forest.”
“The bed stood just here,” Mr. Hammond indicated with his walking stick the exact spot where Kara’s chair had been the moment before. “I have always felt we should have had this floor removed. Kara, if you will give me permission, when the summer campingdays have passed, I should like to undertake it. There isn’t one chance in a thousand we should come across anything, but it would be worth while to try, would it not?”
Kara’s expression made no other answer necessary.
A few moments after the Hammonds had said farewell and were gone.
An instant it appeared as if Lucy wished to break away and speak to Kara. The other girl never glanced toward her, or seemed conscious of her presence after her first display of affection, so apparently Lucy lost the desire or the courage.
Immediately the Girl Scouts departed for their sleeping tents accompanied by their Troop Captain.
Miss Mason would return to say good-night to Kara and see that she was comfortable for the night. In the meantime there was the final evening ceremony with her Girl Scouts.
In the big room at present were only Tory, Miss Frean and Mr. Fenton, save for the girl in the wheeled chair.
Mr. Fenton approached Kara.
“I trust so many visitors and so much excitement will not be harmful to you,” he said in the dignified fashion that alwayscharmed Kara and his own niece. Mr. Fenton never addressed them as if they were merely young girls and of no special importance.
Always his manner was courtly and agreeable.
Toward Kara he extended a box of candy which he had been carrying under his arm.
“I know candy is to a large extent a forbidden fruit at camp. But as you are a kind of uncrowned queen these days, Kara, I thought you might be permitted to offer a sweet now and then to your ladies in waiting.”
During this conversation Tory had crossed over to Miss Frean, persuading her to be seated on a low bench and sitting down beside her.
“I was deeply offended with you, Memory, an hour ago when you held a ‘mirror up to nature,’ my nature. I detest being lectured. Just the same, I promise to try not to bore Kara too much with my society and to give the other girls more opportunity. But dear me, I did think I was doing the right thing! Often I have wanted dreadfully to go off on our Scouting expeditions and have remained at camp because I thought Kara needed me and did not wish the other girls to be sacrificed. It does require an extraordinary number of virtues to be a good Scout.”
Memory Frean shook her head.
“I don’t believe I would put the case in just that fashion, Tory. To be a good Scout demands first of all common sense. You have the artistic temperament, Tory, and common sense is perhaps more difficult for you. Glad you are willing to be friends again.”
Memory Frean and Mr. Richard Fenton walked back together to the House in the Woods. They had not been alone with each other in more than twenty years.
CHAPTER XIIIA PORTRAIT
Several days later Tory Drew, accompanied by two other of her Troop of Girl Scouts, went forth to spend the morning sketching, not far from their camp.
Her companions were Edith Linder and Martha Greaves, the English Girl Guide, who was her guest.
Personally Tory felt considerable embarrassment concerning her own neglect of the young English girl who had been left dependent in a measure upon her interest and friendliness. She had not intended any rudeness or indifference. Her greater interest and affection for Katherine Moore had dominated all other ideas and emotions.
Even before Miss Frean’s lecture Tory had suffered an occasional moment of self-reproach. However, only within the past twenty-four hours had she talked over the situation frankly and openly with Martha and offered an apology.
It was delightful to have discovered herto be altogether sensible and agreeable. Apparently the young English Girl Guide had understood and accepted the circumstances. She not only failed to express any show of resentment at Tory’s unintentional disregard of her, she appeared not to feel any resentment.
“It has all been a wonderful experience for me, the opportunity this summer to meet and know so many American Girl Scouts,” she explained. “Nor has it been possible to feel either lonely or neglected. The other girls have been so friendly and interested. They have talked to me of your devotion to Kara and told me something of Kara’s difficult life. I would not have you give up an hour when she needs you to look after me.”
Tory was thinking of this and of other characteristics of the English girl, as she sat idly holding her sketch book open in her lap, a drawing pencil in her hand.
Martha and Edith had gone over into one of the fields to look for mushrooms. As Edith had spent the greater part of her life on a small farm, she possessed a good deal of practical outdoor knowledge which the other Girl Scouts were endeavoring to acquire through books and teachers.
Particularly was the English Girl Guideinterested in learning all that was possible in one brief summer concerning the American woods and fields. Now and then they appeared oddly unlike her own green and fragrant country with its miles of cultivated gardens and carefully trimmed hedges.
Martha and Edith were especially friendly. Tory was possessed of sufficient knowledge of the world to appreciate this fact as indicating an unusual sweetness and poise upon the part of their English visitor.
Obviously Edith Linder came of simple people. Her father and mother had been poor farmers and were now working in a factory in Westhaven. Edith made no pretense of anything else and had not received a great deal of education. She had learned much from her winter with Miss Frean, and was learning through her summer with her Troop of Girl Scouts. Nevertheless, there were ways in which she revealed the difference in her past circumstances from the lives of most of the Girl Scouts with whom she was associated at present.
To Martha, Edith’s lack of social training must have been especially conspicuous. Martha had been reared in a careful fashion. Her family had been wealthy before the war and owners of a large estate.
Nevertheless the English Girl Guide accepted Edith’s efforts toward self-improvement and her evident desire to make friends with perfect tact and good breeding.
Tory knew that social distinctions were more seriously regarded in England than the United States. She concluded if ever the moment were propitious to inquire of Martha if the Girl Guides represented an effort toward real Democracy in the sense the American Girl Scouts trusted that they represented the same purpose.
At length Tory took up her pencil and began drawing.
She was seated in an open place in the woods not far from their dancing ground within the circle of giant beech trees.
Later in the day Evan Phillips’ mother was to give the Girl Scouts of the Eagle’s Wing their first lesson in outdoor dancing.
The thought of this in prospect interrupted Tory’s effort. With an impatient gesture she picked up the paper upon which she was working and tearing it into bits flung the pieces to the winds.
Her father insisted that she draw from still life and she had been using a distant tree as her model.
Is there anything in the world more difficult to represent with its dignity, grace and beneficence than a tree?
At this instant Tory certainly was convinced there was not.
Half unconsciously her pencil began indicating the figure of a girl in various attitudes.
For years, whenever left to her own devices, Tory had amused herself in this fashion. However crude her drawings of human figures, since she was a tiny girl they had in them a suggestion of life and action.
A noise, apparently coming from behind a clump of bushes not far off, distracted the artist’s attention.
Tory raised her eyes.
Beyond the bushes she thought she beheld some one move.
“Martha, Edith!” she called out.
At first there was no reply.
The second call brought a response.
From farther away Martha and Edith halloed in Girl Scout fashion.
Again Tory returned to her work, having now acquired the impression that she was no longer alone.
Once more she looked suddenly around.
A figure behind the clump of shrubs undoubtedly stirred.
Rising, Tory walked in that direction.
She had not moved more than a few feet when the intruder, aware of discovery, came toward her.
A small figure Tory beheld dressed in a pale green linen frock, crumpled and torn. The large leghorn hat had a band of green velvet ribbon encircling it. In one hand she bore a small yellow leather suit case.
“Why, Lucy, what in the world does this mean? Are you by yourself? Do Mr. or Mrs. Hammond know where you are?”
“No, you may tell them,” the little girl answered calmly. “I am on my way to Kara. I am going to take her back to the Gray House or somewhere else, where we can be alone. I hated Kara sitting still in a chair and never moving and all of you keeping me from her.”
“Then you do care for Kara?” Tory demanded, putting her arms about the picturesque little figure.
Coldly but politely Lucy drew away.
“Care? What do you mean? Do you mean do I love Kara? Why, I don’t really like anyone else very well except Kara and perhaps Billy and now Mr. and Mrs. Hammond. Mrs. Hammond says I must be moredevoted to her than any one else, but I’m not truly, now that I know Kara is ill.”
“You have run away, haven’t you, Lucy? I am sure I don’t know how you ever got this far without some one stealing you. You are the most delightful looking child I ever beheld. Come and sit down for awhile and rest and eat some sandwiches. I know you ran away before breakfast and must be hungry and tired. Afterwards I’ll take you to Kara.”
A creative impulse had seized hold of Tory.
More than anything she could imagine at the moment she longed to make a sketch of Lucy, of the little figure in the pale green gown against the deeper background of green, the big hat hanging behind her shoulders. The child’s cheeks were a vivid rose, her dark hair still in the stiff aureole that was unlike other children’s.
But it was not the color that Tory wished to represent. That would have to come later. She must try to catch the grace of the small figure, sitting serenely on the ground a few feet from her munching sandwiches.
Tory would have preferred that her portrait model be engaged in some other occupation. But this made no special difference. By and by Lucy stopped eating and Tory, fascinated, went on with her drawing.
CHAPTER XIVDISAGREEMENTS
The decision to take part with the Boy Scouts in the presentation of the Greek pageant representing the adventures of Odysseus was largely brought about through Mr. Richard Fenton’s interest.
He it was who finally persuaded the Troop Captain, Sheila Mason, to give her consent. Of chief importance was her point of view, since she must be responsible for her own Girl Scouts.
For many years Mr. Fenton had been an enthusiastic Greek scholar. To him it appeared more than ordinarily worth while to stimulate among the Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts an interest in the historic legends of the past. In his estimation the history of Greece was of greater importance than any other nation. In the history of Greece one finds the model of the first known Democratic government in the world and according to many historians the best.
The outdoor life of the American Scouts,planned to develop them mentally and physically, to make better citizens and wiser men and women, had its counterpart in the lives of the early Greeks, centered about their Olympian games.
A series of tableaux, accompanied by a recitation of the story of one of the two great Homeric poems, would not alone broaden the outlook of the young people who took part. Mr. Fenton had a shrewd idea that it would awaken among the older people in Westhaven a wider vision of beauty. Like most small towns, Westhaven was too self-centered. Mr. Fenton did not wish the little New England village to share in the opprobrium of “Main Street.”
Why was it not a portion of the work of the Scouts to bring fresh ideals of beauty and romance into their own environments? Mr. Richard Fenton considered this an important part of their service.
To-day, seated with the fourteen Girl Scouts in a circle about her, Sheila Mason was wondering if she had not been more idealistic than practical.
The girls were in their own council chamber in Beech wood Forest. No one else was within sight or hearing.
The story of the “Odyssey” lay open in Sheila Mason’s lap.
Katherine Moore, in her wheeled chair, held another copy. Bending over her, reading from the same pages, were Margaret Hale and Louise Miller.
A few feet away Tory Drew and Dorothy McClain were writing on large sheets of paper the instructions that were offered them from time to time.
Teresa Peterson, slipping her handkerchief to her eyes, was wiping away an uncomfortable moisture. Her cheeks were deeply flushed and her lips tremulous.
Lucy Martin sat contentedly on a cushion at Kara’s feet.
She had not been permitted to bear away the other girl as she had planned. However, she was allowed to stay on with the Girl Scouts in their camp for a visit which made her equally content.
To Mr. and Mrs. Hammond she had explained that she could not leave for two reasons. Kara needed her and Tory was making a picture of her. Either reason she considered sufficient. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Hammond had agreed for the present.
“I believe, although the boys have left thefinal choice with us, that it will be best to follow their selection of characters,” Margaret Hale remarked.
The Troop Captain looked up from her book, first toward Teresa and then Margaret.
“I do not see what else is possible under the circumstances. We are to make two or three changes, but they are not important ones. I am sorry Teresa is disappointed. She insists that Lance originally suggested to her she could represent Penelope, so I presume she has built upon the idea. Yet it does seem more appropriate for Joan Peters to play the part of the famous lady with the web, the wife of Odysseus. There is no question, Teresa, of your not acting as well, but this is scarcely a question of acting, but of appearing to the best advantage in the series of tableaux. And Joan does look more like one’s conception of Penelope than you. Except for Lance McClain’s suggestion to you, and he should not have expressed an opinion without consulting the others, the choice has always been between Dorothy McClain and Joan. The majority finally decided in favor of Joan because Donald McClain is to appear as Odysseus and Don and Dorothy are brother and sister. Perhaps there would beless illusion in having them represent a husband and wife.”
“I suppose it is because Joan is taller and her features more regular and she is prettier, that she was chosen to play Penelope,” Teresa murmured in an injured tone and with such a gentle suggestion of melancholy, that Joan Peters appeared extremely uncomfortable.
“I don’t see it that way, Teresa, and I am perfectly willing to give up in your favor if the others will agree. Of course it is ridiculous to talk of any question of beauty having been considered. You know you are absurdly pretty, Teresa, and are merely trying to make some one say so,” Joan remarked, half serious and half amused.
As a matter of fact, she was not enthusiastic over being chosen for one of the principal parts in the Greek tableaux.
She was not particularly popular with the Boy Scouts. The boys liked half a dozen of the other girls better, although Tory Drew, Dorothy McClain and Teresa were the chief favorites.
“See here, Teresa, don’t be tiresome. If we were all to object as you do to the casting of the characters we will never get anywhereand spend the entire day in argument. Everybody knows I think it the greatest mistake in the world not to have had Dorothy in the leading rôle. Still, I am saying very little and apologize to Joan for what I have said,” Louise Miller protested. “So let us get on with what we are trying to accomplish. Remember, we are to meet the boys and Mr. Fenton this afternoon and choose the place for our poetic drama.”
Frequently Louise Miller was too impatient with Teresa’s small frailties, her love of pleasure and admiration. This was hardly fair because of the difference in their temperaments making any sympathy between them almost impossible.
“Well there is one person whom we all agree to be the ideal choice,” Dorothy McClain remarked, hoping to turn the conversation into more agreeable channels.
She had been sitting on the ground weaving a chaplet of beech leaves. Rising up now she placed it like a crown on Kara’s brow.
“Behold Athena, the wise Goddess with the clear gray eyes!”
A little silence descended upon the group of girls.
Kara flushed.
“It is the kindest and most ridiculous thing in the world to havemetake part when I cannot stir from this chair. I don’t want to seem unappreciative. I’m not really, you know, but do please explain to the Boy Scouts that they must realize it is out of the question,” Kara argued.
“No, dear, we are not going to bring up that question again. Lance and Don and Jack Hardin told you that their entire Troop of Scouts wished you to play the ‘Goddess of Wisdom.’ The tableaux are to be arranged so you need not appear but once. Then you are to be seated upon a throne as Pallas Athena should be. You know how we all feel on the subject. Surely you do not wish to disappoint everyone,” Tory protested.
She was wondering if the other girls had observed what she had. In these days of discussion of the Greek tableaux Kara had appeared brighter and more like her former self. Now and then even a glimpse of the old humor showed in the depth of her gray eyes or about the corners of her of late too serious lips.
“Tory has expressed what we all feel, Kara,” Miss Mason added. “Now, Tory, please read aloud the list of the characters sofar as they have been decided upon. I am delighted to know that the father of the Boy Scouts has agreed to be with us on the evening of the tableaux and will read selections from the Odyssey as the pictures are presented.”
Tory glanced toward the paper in her lap.
“Donald McClain will be Odysseus; Lance McClain, his son, Telemachus; Joan Peters, Penelope; Victoria Drew, the Princess Nausicaa; Mr. Richard Fenton, Eumaeus, the aged servant of the Greek hero. The other Girl Scouts will be the ladies in waiting to Penelope and the Boy Scouts Penelope’s suitors.
“I had forgotten to write down that Margaret Hale will be Arete and Jack Hardin the good King Alcinous, my respected parents. I am glad they assisted the wanderer to end his adventures and return to his faithful Penelope.
“Just as well that we decided to start our tableaux with the arrival of the hero on the island of the Sea Kings! I fear it would have taxed even our talents to have shown the enchanted spots where Odysseus was held enslaved by Calypso with the beautiful hair, who sang sweetly as she wove at her loom with the golden shuttle, or Circe, the sorceress,who mixed the drink in a golden cup that turned men into swine. Representing these Goddesses would have taxed our powers. Except for Kara we are only mortals.”
Tory rose up.
“May I start with Kara to our dancing grounds? It may take me some time and Mrs. Phillips is to arrive in less than an hour for our first dance rehearsal. I have an idea, or perhaps a hope, that our Greek dance which Evan is to lead, will be one of the most beautiful, beautiful things that has ever been seen in Westhaven.”
Tory reached Kara’s chair, but at the same time Dorothy McClain pushed her gently away.
“Margaret and I are going to take turns in pushing Kara’s chair to our dancing grounds. We have already made an engagement with her to that effect. Please remember we are both stronger persons than you, and Kara will arrive far more speedily and safely.”
Tory appreciated that Dorothy was jesting, nevertheless, she bit her lips and frowned.
Kara’s hand reached around and took hold of hers.
“You’ll come along with us, won’t you, Tory? I know I am selfish, but I do hate beingseparated from you. If there is time before Mrs. Phillips arrives why not attempt another sketch of Lucy? We thought the first sketch you made of her wonderful, even if you were not pleased.”
In the last few days Tory had quietly been following Memory Frean’s advice and allowing the other Girl Scouts to share in the care of Kara. As a consequence they did seem to feel more pleasure in being together. But then for more than one reason Kara was in a better state of mind.
CHAPTER XVTHE CHOICE
At four o’clock in the afternoon Mr. Fenton sent a large motor car to the Girl Scout camp to bear Kara, Miss Mason, Lucy Martin and any other girls who chose to ride to the place under discussion as the site to be chosen for the Greek pageant.
The spot lay midway between the two camps.
Earlier in the afternoon Miss Frean had started off with the girls who preferred the hike.
Walking steadily without pausing for rest, before the others they arrived at the proposed place.
When the signal was given to halt, Tory Drew dropped down on the ground and in the fashion supposed to be best for meditation sat looking about her.
Several of the other girls followed her example, while Miss Frean remained standing with three or four companions. They preferred to command a wider view of their surroundings.
They had reached the source of the stream of water which ended in the small lake before the camp in Beechwood Forest.
Here the water was fairly deep but the stream of no great width. On one side was a small clearing with a grove of trees not far away. Where the Girl Scouts stood at present the open space was larger. A dozen yards away a country road connected with the state road that ran through the village of Westhaven.
Beyond were a rim of blue hills.
“I would not be surprised if we conclude this is the proper location,” Miss Frean said reflectively. “There is the disadvantage of being so far from Westhaven. We shall have to transport the scenery and costumes out here and make arrangements for the audience to be seated. Yet the place itself is rarely lovely.”
Tory looked at her beseechingly.
“The place is ideal. Please don’t say a word against it. Uncle Richard insists that the early Greeks possessed a greater love of the beautiful than we possess. Yet surely this spot would have pleased them!
“Our tableaux can be shown on the other side of the water. The audience can beseated on this side. The distance will add to the illusion. The Palace of Odysseus with the courtyard in front where most of the scenes will take place, can be constructed in front of the grove of trees. Odysseus can land on what is supposed to be the island of the Sea-Kings from a Greek galley rowed up the stream. And I shall appear with my maidens who come down to the banks to wash the imperial clothes of my royal family. Until the moment to appear before the audience the players can be concealed beyond the trees.”
Closing her eyes and clasping her hands ecstatically together, Tory exclaimed:
“Can you not see the entire scene, the beauty and glamour, what Uncle Richard calls the Greek spirit that we are to portray?”
Joan Peters laughed and shook her head.
“No, Tory dear, I am afraid not. We cannot all see it, although I must only speak for myself. Can’t you appreciate that we are not all possessed of the artistic temperament and gifted with the power of seeing visions? I am a humdrum person who has to be shown.”
Joan moved away to join another group.
“Tory, yours is a fortunate gift, I am not pretending to deny it. There are times whenI envy you. Still, dear, some of us before we can behold the completed masterpiece, are obliged to consider how we can get a sufficient number of chairs out here to permit the audience to be seated comfortably,” Memory Frean interposed.
The girl looked at her half challengingly.
“I am not so unpractical as you may think. Uncle Richard and I drove out here a few days ago and discussed the very problem of how to seat our audience. He promised to have any number of chairs sent out at his expense. We can guess the number required by the tickets we shall sell. I have an idea our audience will be very large. After paying for our costumes and scenery there will still be a good deal of money to be divided between the Boy Scout Troop and our own.”
“A noteworthy conclusion, Tory. I am glad you have made the necessary decisions and arrangements without waiting for the other arrivals. A confusion of tongues just adds to a confusion of ideas,” Lance McClain remarked, jumping from his bicycle and unexpectedly joining the small group.
Apparently he had ridden on ahead of his Scout Troop.
He turned now and greeted Miss Frean.
Then he came over toward Tory.
“I don’t wish to be teased, Lance. Of course I have not made any decision and nothing positive can be decided until the vote is taken. I have only been entertaining myself by dreaming that this is to be the chosen site. I can see a mental picture that is very wonderful.”
Lance shook his head and laughed.
“I am not wishing to be disagreeable, Tory. Of course this is the ideal spot. It takes you and me to recognize the fact.”
For some reason neither of them understood, Victoria Drew and Lance McClain usually argued unimportant issues and agreed upon the important ones.
From a little distance beyond, the rest of the Boy Scout Troop could now be seen approaching.
“Yes, Don will be here in a little while, Tory. Don’t you and Dorothy worry. I rode over because the camp doctor thought I wasn’t in very good shape. I am not in high favor at camp at present, so I thought I’d do what I was told on this occasion,” Lance remarked.
Only three girls were sufficiently near at this instant to overhear his speech, Tory,Dorothy McClain and Louise Miller. The other girls and Miss Frean had moved over to meet the advancing Troop.
“What are you talking about, Lance? What have you done of late to break the camp discipline? If you don’t care for your own sake, I think you might consider how much Don and I care for your Scout record. It was enough for you to have originated the ridiculous excursion that resulted in the trouble between your Troop and our own that has lasted until now. Please, please don’t get into any more mischief.”
In Dorothy’s tone there was something maternal. Lance alone of all her brothers called forth this spirit in her.
“Sister of mine, you take me too seriously. I have only wandered off from camp now and then for a stroll in the woods. I am obliged to meditate. I have not broken any of the commandments. It is my misfortune to be unlike other people. You have told me this a good many times. So perhaps I am frequently misunderstood.”
Lance’s tone was so indifferent and teasing that Dorothy was seriously annoyed.
“I don’t mind if Louise and Tory do hear what I have been wanting a chance to say toyou, Lance. You had no right to tell Teresa Peterson that she would be chosen to play the part of Penelope in our Greek tableaux. She has been dreadfully disappointed and it has made things hard for all of us.”
“Teresa Peterson to play Penelope! Who says I made any such suggestion, Dorothy? Teresa looks more like a pretty doll than the model of Greek faithfulness and propriety.”
Dorothy looked puzzled.
“Teresa told me herself, Lance. She told me she had met you two or three times by accident and you had talked to each other for a little while. She seemed to feel she ought to speak of it to me and to Miss Mason. Teresa is a dear, but she isn’t as clever as some of the other girls and I don’t think you would ever care to be very intimate friends. She never could understand you as Tory and Louise do. You did tell Teresa she was to be chosen for Penelope, didn’t you?”
Lance whistled.
“I suppose so, if she insists upon it.”
“Well, I wish you would stick to one story or the other, Lance,” Dorothy protested, moving away with Tory Drew and leaving her brother and Louise Miller together.
“I suppose there are not many things Iwould not forgive you, but I never should forgive your not being truthful.”
Lance and Louise remained silent a few moments after the others had departed.
Reproachfully Louise studied the thin, eager face.
“Lance, I can guess it is in your code to protect a girl by telling a half truth. I suppose Teresa somehow got the impression she was to be chosen for Penelope without your having said so. She is a vain little thing. But what I want to say is, please never hurt Dorothy in order to protect anyone else. Perhaps she is only your sister, but she hates deceit more than anything in the world, and you know how devoted she is to you.”
Lance frowned.
“See here, Louise, I’m not in the habit of telling fibs, so don’t preach. I am not going to have Teresa suffer any more criticism from the rest of you girls. I have met her a few times and we have talked. She seemed to think perhaps it was a mistake as long as our two camps were not friendly, so I am glad she has spoken of the fact to Dorothy and Miss Mason. I wasn’t going to say anything first.
“You need not worry over Dorothy andme, Ouida. We have our scraps now and then, but there isn’t another girl I think holds a candle to her at present, not even you or Tory.
“By the way, we ought to be special friends. We are both ‘different,’ and no one ever really likes being. Dorothy says you have got some queer idea in your head that you would like to be a naturalist. That is almost as good as my wishing to be a musician, when we both have our own livings to earn, the sooner the better for ourselves and families. We aren’t all Tory Drews in this world!”
Louise’s earnest pale gray eyes with their dark lashes were staring intently at her companion.
“I agree with the first part of your speech, Lance, but I really don’t understand what you mean about Tory,” she returned.
“Don’t you? Well, nothing important. Only Tory is one of the people who has talent and charm and things are going to be fairly easy for her compared to you and me. When the time comes for her to study art she will have her chance. Most people are fond of her. At present in our family old Don and father will do pretty much anything she asks. So I thought maybe you and I might be kind ofspecial friends, Ouida. I may probably get into a scrape some day and not know the best way out and want your help.”
“You can always count on me, Lance, if for no other reason than because you are Dorothy’s favorite brother,” Louise answered simply.
Observing that Miss Mason’s car had arrived and several others, Lance and Louise moved toward the newcomers.
Three members of the Boy Scout Council and three other members of the girls had driven out with Mr. Fenton. It was rare in the history of the Scout movement that the girls and boys should take part in the same entertainment and the subject was being seriously considered.