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.