After all, Dorothy would not be alone, although they could go off somewhere nearby together. Yet Lance knew he would not particularly object to the presence of Louise Miller and Tory Drew.
No difficulty arose in discovering the group of girls. Before Lance shoved his boat from the shore he observed them at a point about three-quarters of the way down the opposite shore. He could not distinguish one from the other nor tell the exact number.
As he approached nearer he observed that Tory was seated with an easel in front of her, and at a short distance away Lucy was posing. The other girls were not in sight.
So intent was Tory upon her work that she did not see Lance until he was within a few yards. Then he called out to her, and Lucy, glad of a chance to change her position, ran down to meet him.
They came up hand in hand.
“Not so bad, Tory, for a girl, and one no older than you!” Lance murmured, staring at the drawing of the youthful artist, his brows drawn into a fine line, half of criticism, half envy.
Donald and Dorothy McClain and most of her younger companions would have felt only enthusiastic admiration for Tory’s work. Had they known, Lance’s attitude was more flattering. He expected more of Tory’s ability than the others knew how to expect.
She shook her head.
“This is my third attempt, Lance, to make a picture of Lucy that I shall be willing to submit to the judges in our Council or show father. I can’t try again, we are going away from camp so soon. Now and then I think this may do, and at others I am discouraged. I must not talk about myself. How did you happen to turn up here? Are you looking for Dorothy? I hope there is nothing the matter, you are so serious.”
Before it became necessary for Lance to reply a voice interrupted him.