Dorothy stared. Here seemed a new Gwendolyn, whose tongue ran quite as rapidly as her own had ever done, and whose haughty face was now transformed by eager delight. As the young artist ran forward toward the spot, Dolly noticed that no other girl was in sight. They two had turned a little aside from the smoother path which the rest had taken, Dorothy following the lure of some new wild flower and Gwendolyn stiffly following her. Only a minute before the chatter and laughter of many girls had filled the air; now, save for their own footsteps on the fallen leaves, there was no sound.
“I wonder where the rest are! Did you see which way they went, Gwendolyn?”
“No. I didn’t notice. But they’re just around the next turn, I fancy. Oh! to think I’ve found the Bath at last. I must make a little sketch of it and come back as soon as I can with my color box. How the studio girls will envy me! Every time we’ve been in these woods we’ve searched for it and now to come upon it all at once, never dreaming, makes me proud! But—don’t you tell. I’d begun something else for next exhibition, but I shall drop that and do this. I’ll get leave to do it in my recreation hours in some empty class room, and bring it out as a surprise. I wish I’d found it alone. I wish nobody knew it but me. It must be kept a secret—so don’t you dare to tell. Come on.”
“Huh! I reckon if you’ll stick to facts, it was I—not you—who found it. I don’t see why I should keep it secret. It doesn’t belong to either of us, it belongs to the whole world. I wish everybody who loves beauty could enjoy it,” answered Dorothy, warmly.
“Well, go tell then, tattle-tale! You might know a common girl like you would be hateful to her betters, if she got a chance!” retorted Gwendolyn, angrily.
It rose to Dorothy’s lips to respond: “Tattle-tale and mischief-maker is what all the girls know you are!” but she kept the hard words back, “counting ten” vigorously, and also listening for some sound of her now invisible schoolmates. She wasn’t a timid girl, but the silence of this deep forest startled her, nor looking around could she discover by what path they had come to this place.
Then Gwendolyn was hurrying forward, carrying the pocket-pad and pencil without which she went nowhere, and careless of everything but to get her sketch. So Dorothy followed, forgetting her resentment in watching her companion. To see Gwen’s head turning this way, then that, squinting her eyes and holding her pencil before them, measuring distance thus and seeking the “right light,” interested the watcher for the time.
Finally, the artist had secured a point which suited her and, seating herself, rapidly drew a picture of one view. She worked so deftly and confidently, that Dorothy’s only feeling now was one of admiration.