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."