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 not for 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 as a 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 the little 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, she would 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, insisted that 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 IX

THE 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 mean and 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 chamber where 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 of spoiled 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 England history. 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 roles. 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 good many 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 know what 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 X

CONSULTATIONS 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 put on 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 Linder had 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 was about 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, the spruce 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 so simple 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. Take your 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 godmother and 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. Your father 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 her aunt 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."



CHAPTER XI

OUT 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, with Tory 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 unexpectedly worse, 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 of character. 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 must not 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 XII

RETROSPECTION

"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 he had 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 talk some 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 camping days 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 always charmed 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 XIII

A 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 her to 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 Guide interested 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 more devoted 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 XIV

DISAGREEMENTS

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 the final 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 be less 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 anywhere and 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 role. 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 have me take 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 so far 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 being separated 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 XV

THE 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 be seated 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 when I 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 to you, 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 I would 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 and me, 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 of special 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.



CHAPTER XVI

THE GREEK SPIRIT

"What is the Greek spirit, Mr. Fenton?" During one of the rehearsals for the presentation of Odysseus, Lance McClain made this inquiry.

No one else among the group of boys and girls surrounding Mr. Fenton at the moment would have asked the question. Yet, overhearing Lance, a number of them stood waiting for the answer.

The weeks of outdoor work and study had awakened new ideas and interests.

Mr. Fenton did not reply immediately; instead, he appeared to be considering the question deeply.

Frequently he had talked of the Greek spirit. Therefore, what did he actually mean?

"I am glad you put that query to me, Lance," he returned finally. "Half a dozen times since we began our rehearsals I have spoken of the 'Greek spirit.' I have emphasized the wish that we reveal it in the presentation of our tableaux. One ought not to talk glibly and be unable to offer a simple definition.

"At least I can tell you what the 'Greek spirit' means to me and why I want us to give expression to it in our pageant.

"Try not to be bored if I discuss the subject seriously for a few moments. You know I have been a student, not a speaker, all my life, and there are times when we all wish for the gift of tongues."

Observing that Mr. Fenton was addressing not Lance alone who had asked the question, but the crowd of young people nearby, Memory Frean and Sheila Mason, Captain Curtis and several others came and stood on the edge of the crowd.

This afternoon they were together on the side of the stream of water where the tableaux would be presented.

In nearly every detail Tory had been correct in her original conception. The pageant would be presented in the clear green space with the grove of shadowy trees as background.

Across the water the audience were to be seated in a natural outdoor auditorium. On a slight elevation of land near the stream the Father of the Scouts, who had promised to appear for the evening's entertainment, would read aloud portions of the Odyssey.

This afternoon, however, the Scouts were busy building and arranging details of the outdoor scenery.

It must be as simple as possible to serve their purpose.

Observing the crowd gathering about Mr. Richard Fenton, the builders also stopped their toil to join the others.

A rare experience had come to Mr. Fenton late in life, and although she never realized the fact, Tory Drew was chiefly responsible.

Almost as a recluse Mr. Fenton had spent the years of his middle age. He was under the impression that he was not sympathetic with most people and that they did not care for him. With a sufficient fortune for his needs, he had not found it necessary to engage in an occupation for the sake of making money. Therefore he had devoted most of his time to study and thought.

The result had not brought him a deep satisfaction. In his young manhood he had not planned this kind of existence.

He had contemplated being a public man, a statesman should he reveal the necessary ability. In those days he had been young and meant to make Memory Frean proud of him. They had separated and he had sought consolation among his books.

Then into his own and his sister's well regulated lives Tory had entered the winter before. She was not Tory to them then, but Victoria Drew, as Miss Victoria Fenton still insisted upon calling her niece.

To Mr. Fenton the young girl had made an unconscious appeal. Lonely and feeling herself out of place in a new and strange environment, she appeared like a gay little tropical bird or flower transferred to a harsher environment. When he and Tory became friends the coldness of the old maid and old bachelor establishment changed to a pleasanter warmth.

Introduced to her girl friends, Mr. Fenton had become a member of their Scout Council. But not until this summer had he developed into their chief mentor, and fairy godfather.

Now to his surprise, added to his other unsought honors, he found himself the director of the Greek pageant, one of the performers as well, and far more popular with his fellow-players than he yet appreciated.

Daily they were coming to him with their problems and their ambitions. As yet their confidences related only to the approaching performance.

Lance's question was more general than any other that had been propounded. While Mr. Fenton was replying he looked at Lance with more interest than he had felt in the boy before.

If no one else understood what he was endeavoring to make plain, he believed that Tory and Lance would catch the import of his words.

"Among the nations the Greeks are rarely fortunate," Mr. Fenton began. "They left us such inheritances that we have remembered their great days; with other nations we are too apt to recall the years of their decay, their mistakes.

"Perhaps one reason for this is that the Greeks were our forefathers, a branch of the Aryan-speaking peoples who in the faint twilight of early history, a nomadic, wandering people, moved southward, and combined with the inhabitants of Crete. This gives us the story of the Odyssey, one of the two great Greek poems, but more filled with legend than the story of the Iliad, which is the siege of Troy."

Mr. Fenton paused.

"I am not tiring you too much? Still I must go on. We must try as far as we can to understand what we have undertaken to present to others. And I have not yet told you what I mean by the Greek spirit.

"It revealed itself even as far back as these two poems. The Greeks were then possessed of two great passions, the love of adventure and the love of beauty. Those two possessions I want to be equally the heritage of the American Girl and Boy Scouts.

"Later, in what is known as the Age of Pericles, the Greeks entered into their third ardor, Democracy, the love of freedom. So what I call the Greek spirit is the love and pursuit of these three things: Beauty, Adventure, Freedom.

"I might talk longer and you would understand me less well. Understand, there may be danger in these three desires. One must not seek beauty, adventure and freedom at the expense of other people, but in order to share it with others as the Greeks have done.

"Now I am through with my lecture, will some one give me a hammer? I'll try to assist Don in building a footstool for one of Penelope's maids. I'm afraid I am no better carpenter than I am lecturer. Do you understand what I have been trying to explain, Lance? We may talk the question over together some other time."

Lance nodded.

"I think I do understand what it means in regard to the Scouts."

A moment he stood dreaming when the others went back to work. Beauty, adventure, freedom, the Scouts were finding in the outdoors during the weeks of their summer camp.

At present in front of the grove of trees Mrs. Phillips was starting a rehearsal of the Greek dance that was to form a part of the coming pageant.

Fascinated, Lance stood watching.



CHAPTER XVII

A CLASSIC REVIVAL

Only now and then does nature allow us a perfect thing.

The day of the presentation of the Greek poem of the Odyssey by the Girl and Boy Scouts was a perfect day.

It occurred during the last week in August. Here at the fringe of the deep woods the afternoon was like early September; there was more color, more radiance than one associates with any other month of the year.

Beyond the woods the wheat fields were golden, the final growth of the summer gardens a riot of purple and rose and blue. The corn fields having ripened, bent their green maturity to the breezes, the silk of the corn tassels made valiant banners. In the forests the beech trees showed bronze leaves amid the midsummer foliage, the sumach and the woodbine were flaunting the scarlet signals of autumn.

Along the road leading from Westhaven to the site in the woods where the Greek pageant would take place, from an early hour in the afternoon motor cars moved back and forth.

The first cars transported the players and their costumes and such odds and ends of scenery as had to be attended to at the last.

The same cars returned for the families and friends of the actors. Every automobile and carriage the town could spare for the occasion had been commandeered.

The interest the town of Westhaven and several neighboring villages displayed in the Greek pageant was beyond the realms of possibility in the original conception of the Girl and Boy Scouts.

But the summer was closing. In a short time a good many of the summer residents would be returning to their city homes. The thought of a final entertainment, a final memory of the summer days became inspiring.

Moreover, a Greek pageant was unusual presented by groups of American girls and boys. Probably they would make a failure of so ambitious an effort, yet it would be worth while to see.

The first arrivals among the audience found several hundred chairs placed in more or less orderly array upon one side of a stream that ran straight as a ribbon along this part of the countryside.

Upon an elevation a small platform had been constructed with a table and a chair so banked with golden rod and Michaelmas daisies and green boughs that the wooden outlines were concealed.

On the further side of the water was an ingenious structure, half palace and half tent.

The walls were of a heavy white canvas, the roof had been made of narrow lattice and this covered with green branches.

In front was the court yard of the palace. The furnishings were severely simple, a long bench and a table, a few straight chairs, little more than stools, and painted white to suggest marble.

No other paraphernalia of the approaching performance was visible.

Now and then a figure appeared from the background of trees, never one of the players, only some assistant bent upon an errand.

Not upon the shore-line supposed to represent ancient Greece, but immediately facing the audience waved a giant American flag. On either side were the Scout flags, one bearing the imprint of an eagle's wing, the insignia of the Girl Scouts, the other an elm tree, the flag of the boys.

At four o'clock in the afternoon the pageant began.

Before that hour not only were the seats filled but a number of people were standing.

A guest of honor of the occasion was one of the distinguished men who originated the Scout movement for boys in the United States. Another guest of honor was a member of the National Girl Council, who had come up from the headquarters in New York for no other reason than to be present at the pageant.

With simple Scout ceremonies the entertainment opened.

A few moments after the applause had subsided, a beautiful resonant voice read aloud the first lines describing the Odyssey:

"Sing us the song of the hero, steadfast, skilful and strong, Taker of Troy's high towers who wandered for ten years long Over the perilous waters, through unknown cities of men, Leading his comrades onward, seeking his home again. Sing us the song of the Wanderer, sing us the wonderful song."

A moment later slowly rowing down the stream appeared a solitary figure, Odysseus, seated upon a raft to which were fixed sails and a rudder.

Before reaching the place along the shore where the boat, built by Odysseus on the island of Calypso, was to land, a storm was supposed to beset the hero. The audience beholds him struggle with the storm and then reach a safe harbor.

On the shore he piles up branches and lies down upon a bed of leaves.

A short time passes and Odysseus sleeps.

This opening scene in the tableaux Donald McClain insisted was the most difficult in the entire program. During the rehearsals he had been possessed by the fear that he would not be able to produce the illusion, so that his audience would not take him seriously. Therefore, the tableaux would begin and end in disaster.

Don need not have troubled. Very handsome and heroic he appeared, his dark hair grayed to represent the age of the Greek hero who had wandered so many weary years after the siege of Troy.