A FEW days later Tory Drew and her Troop Captain were driving out toward the evergreen cabin. It was a mild winter afternoon, with light patches of snow where the sun had not shone and the ice melting between the ruts in the road.

“It is good of you, Miss Mason, to drive with me to see Mr. Winslow. Uncle Richard and I came out yesterday to find if he were comfortable, and Memory Frean has offered to be of any service. Just the same, he might have been lonely if I had not kept my word and brought you!

“Mr. Winslow asked me yesterday to whom he was indebted for the suggestion of the cabin and I told him you. I told him a great deal about you.”

Sheila Mason laughed.

She was looking very lovely in a dark-blue velvet coat suit with a kolinsky collar and cuffs, and a velvet hat of the same shade against the fairness of her pale-gold hair. “Your friend will think I am a very informal person, coming to call upon him in this fashion before he has called upon me, or before I have even been introduced. Still, it was hard for you to have Dorothy desert you just as you were both to take charge of your gifted invalid! I am afraid he may find that he is lonely and dissatisfied so far from the village and I want him to feel that he may make friends in Westhaven whenever he desires, although we do not wish to be troublesome.”

“I wonder if you know how pretty you are looking, Sheila? Most people do know when they are looking especially well!”

In thinking of Sheila Mason as their Girl Scout Captain, Tory always intended addressing her by her title, but when they were alone she often employed her first name.

With half-closed eyes she now gazed at her friend critically.

“If I were a full-fledged artist I would ask you to let me paint a portrait of you. As I am not, I would never be able to do you justice. I am sure Mr. Winslow would make a wonderful picture! Why don’t you allow him the chance? Then he would not be lonely this winter and you would learn to know each other and I am sure——” Tory stopped and colored.

Sheila Mason was returning her glance, laughing and frowning.

“No romancing, please, Tory, now or ever! If you start I shall refuse to get out at the evergreen cabin, and have the chauffeur motor me back home. You girls are pretty good usually, but I observed a tendency on Dorothy’s part a week or ten days ago to make me figure in a romance and this afternoon you are drawing perilously near. Please understand, dear, that romance is over for me forever, and let us never speak of it. I am ever so much happier with you Girl Scouts than I dreamed I could be.”

The younger girl bit her lips.

“I’ll try to remember,” she returned apologetically, “but really, Sheila, don’t you think you are young to talk as if love and romance have ended for you? Think of Uncle Richard and Memory Frean! They never say anything and yet now and then I cannot help guessing they must be a little sorry. I have been considering the men I have met in Westhaven and really no one of them is half as nice as you are; but Mr. Winslow is different. I beg your pardon. I won’t speak of this again. Don’t be angry; I’ll change the subject and never refer to it. There are several other things I really want dreadfully to talk to you about.

“Don’t you think it odd that I have never heard a word from Dorothy or Kara since Dr. McClain and Dorothy reached New York? I can’t imagine whether it is because Lance is so ill, or because something has developed about Kara. Still, I don’t see how a letter from Lance’s friend, Mr. Moore, can have any connection with Kara. I don’t really think so. Only, I nearly always am thinking of her.”

A silence fell between the girl and her companion and the sensation of annoyance passed from Sheila Mason. Girls of Tory’s age and the other Girl Scouts were inclined to be sentimental, not in regard to themselves but their older friends. The sentiment Tory had just uttered was not hers alone. Now and then Sheila’s own mother protested that she must not sacrifice her entire life to a memory. She was altogether too young and pretty.

Either with her mother or Tory, Sheila did not agree. The other girl’s devotion to Katherine Moore always made an appeal to her.

At this moment she slipped her hand inside her companion’s. “I would not believe there is anything serious the matter with Lance or Kara until you hear. You are sure to have a letter from Dorothy by to-morrow. She has only been away a short time and is probably so distracted by New York. Remember your Knighthood, Tory, and be brave as possible.”

The girl smiled ruefully, but afterwards her expression brightened.

“We have one Knight of our Girl Scout Round Table whose banner can be inscribed with the story of a noble deed. Isn’t it wonderful to think of Edith Linder’s bravery? Memory Frean says that the people of Westhaven wish to offer her a reward of some kind to show their appreciation of what she accomplished as a Girl Scout. We have no right to share in the honor, I least of all, who objected to Edith’s joining our Patrol when her name was first proposed! Don’t you think she has earned the Golden Eaglet?”

The Troop Captain nodded.

“I have been thinking the same thing. No one would dispute the justice of Edith’s claim to the highest honor a Girl Scout can attain. How often the people who do the bravest acts are those we least expect it of!”

“Yes, and Edith is unconscious as if she had done nothing at all. She does not wish to be praised or to discuss the question. Margaret and Louise declare that Edith did not refer to anything unusual when they went to see if she were safe. She looked used up, but then so did every one else who had been helping.”

“Can you tell me a clear story of what Edith did?” the Troop Captain inquired. “I wish to write an account to the Scout magazine and to make no mistake.”

Tory Drew closed her eyes. Her mental impression was always clearer with nothing to distract her from the outside.

“I think I can tell you briefly.

“When Edith entered the factory building there was no one in the office. The alarm of fire had just been shouted through the building and the superintendent had rushed out. Edith ran into one of the rooms on the ground floor where the men and women were already making their escape. She overheard some one say there was no danger; everybody would be able to get out. Her mother and father she believed at work on the top floor, and Edith started up the stairs. As she ran some one shouted to her to come down, as the stairways were filling with smoke. She kept on, although nearly knocked down any number of times by frightened people rushing past. Once Edith believed she was overcome by the smoke and dropped on the floor, and some one trampled over her. This seemed to bring her to her senses, for she got up and continued struggling up a flight of steps, black and thick with acrid fumes. She could hear people shouting and beating on a door at the top of the stairs.

“Edith insists that she had no idea of this door being locked or what she was going to accomplish, and for this reason deserves no special praise or reward. She was only fighting her way to her mother and father.

“She says she recalls puzzling over the fact that no one was running down these stairs as she dragged herself up. Then she put out her hand and touched a heavy steel door. She could see nothing and was scarcely conscious of what she was doing. The door would not move, so she threw herself against it blindly, searching for the key, found and turned it in the lock. The door seemed to fall open from the weight of the men and women who had been trying to rush it. Her mother happened to be on a lower floor. Edith’s own father carried her downstairs when the others were so crazed with fear they might have trampled her.” Tory put her gloved hands against her hot cheeks and leaned over toward the open window of the car for a breath of the winter air.

“Please do not let us talk of the fire again, Sheila, not for some time anyhow, certainly not to Mr. Winslow. I dread the thought of it; I think of nothing else, waking or sleeping. It may seem absurd, but Edith Linder was much calmer than I when we talked of it.”

The Troop Captain put her arm about the younger girl.

“No, Tory dear, we won’t speak of it again; I am sorry I troubled you. You are more sensitive and impressionable than the other girls and I ought to have remembered!”

Tory’s lips were trembling.

“That is a kind way of expressing things, Sheila, when the truth is I am a bigger goose. A good many people were injured. The Girl Scouts will have no difficulty now in finding people who need their care. I am giving nearly every cent of my allowance to the fund that is being raised.”

Fortunately the automobile had reached the end of the country road. To arrive at the evergreen cabin one must now follow a footpath.

With pleasure and relief the Troop Captain and Tory started along the familiar trail, leading to the heart of their former summer encampment in Beechwood Forest.

This afternoon the little house showed more plainly. Many of the leaves were frosted and fallen, revealing the heavy tangle of the vines.

“Do you wish we were living here, instead of Mr. Winslow?” Tory demanded.

“No, I am afraid it would be too lonely unless one were a genius or a lover of nature like Memory Frean. I believe she is lonely herself now and then, although she will never confess it. She and Mr. Winslow are close neighbors. Why can’t you develop a romance between them?”

Emphatically Tory shook her head.

“Certainly not. Memory is years older! Besides, her romance belongs in our family! Goodness, there is Mr. Winslow at the door! He is dreadfully shy and if he should dream I have been romancing about him I am afraid would go back at once to New York.”

A tall, slightly stooped man with the fine brown eyes and sweep of darker brown hair walked down the path to meet them. He was not like Sheila’s mental impression of him. He was younger and had more courtesy, more sense of humor, than she had imagined. He seemed appreciative of her call without taking it too seriously.

He had been expecting Tory and one of her friends, so had made arrangements for tea.

A fair amount of inexpensive china had been left in an old cabinet at the cabin when the Girl Scouts returned to their homes.

The little stove, set up inside the fireplace, was warmer than an open fire, if not so picturesque.

Mr. Winslow had brought but few of his personal possessions. He had several favorite pictures hung against the rich brown wood of the cabin walls.

A sketch book lay open on a table.

Sheila Mason saw it at once and asked to be allowed to look at the sketches.

In spite of his beautiful manners she had discovered that her new acquaintance was shyer than she had imagined. Dorothy and Tory were not so far from the truth, for he did give one the impression that he suffered from a disappointment that had had a deep influence upon his nature. Whether his disappointment was due to his lack of success or to some other reason, Sheila had no way of estimating. When they knew each other better he might confide in her. She felt they might become friends, as he would recognize that she too had been more unhappy than most people.

These were the Troop Captain’s unspoken impressions as she and Mr. Winslow sat by the window of the cabin studying his book of sketches. Already he had made a drawing of the cabin with the beechwood forest as a background which she greatly admired and coveted.

As they talked Tory was making the final preparations for tea.

She insisted the privilege be granted her, as she knew the resources of the cabin better than its present host. Moreover, her aunt, Miss Victoria Fenton, had sent the newcomer a number of gifts for his present and future comfort.

Tory had carried them packed in a basket.

She placed the cake and the home-made jam on the table, glancing frequently at her two companions.

They seemed to be getting on very well, considering their brief acquaintance.

It occurred to Tory that she was being ignored more than she anticipated, considering the fact that she had first met Mr. Winslow and that his presence in the evergreen cabin was due to their friendship. The Troop Captain had taken off her velvet coat and hat, as the room was warm. The two heads were bent close over the sketch book.

Studying them, Tory smiled.

Not half an hour before she had been reproached for being romantic and made to promise never to offend again. Certainly she had not dreamed that Miss Mason and Mr. Winslow would develop a liking for each other so promptly.

When tea was ready, purposely Tory called Mr. Winslow to her assistance. He should not be monopolized.

She hoped that he would become sufficiently interested in her to allow her to study painting with him during the approaching summer.

They had a delightful tea. Returning home, Tory had forgotten the circumstances that had been troubling her: Dr. McClain and Dorothy’s unexpected summons to New York City and the fact that she had not received her usual letter from Katherine Moore.

In the front hall Mr. Richard Fenton was awaiting her arrival.

“We are leaving on an early train in the morning for New York, if you can manage to be ready, Tory. Your Aunt Victoria will help you pack your bag. I don’t think there is any cause to be alarmed. I have just received a telegram from Dr. McClain asking me to join him as soon as possible and to bring you. Please don’t worry or I shall be sorry to have had to mention the telegram to you to-night. If you wish to be of service, Tory dear, you must keep your self-control.”