Overhearing the conversation, Dorothy and Louise Miller, who had not been far away, were returning.
With an unexpected display of affection, Dorothy McClain, not accustomed to showing her emotions, put her arm through her brother’s and held tight to him.
“What are you doing not in your Scout uniform, Lance? We were just saying that it was too dreadful to think that our summer camping days in Beechwood Forest would soon be a thing of the past. Nevertheless, I will be kind of glad to return to my own family. Tory and Ouida and I have been making all sorts of plans for the winter. You must help us with some of them, Lance, you and Don.”
“Afraid I won’t be able to, Dorothy,” Lance answered in an odd voice.
The three girls studied him more intently.
Lucy, seldom interested in the conversation of older persons, had wandered away and was throwing pebbles into the clear water.
“Why not, Lance? You are not usually unaccommodating, and though you may consider you are wasting your valuable time to spend any of it with girls, you won’t count Tory and Ouida and me with the others?”
“I won’t be at home next winter, Dorothy, at least I think not. I came out to camp this afternoon to have a private conversation with you, but if Ouida and Tory won’t be bored I don’t mind if they hear what I wish to say. Perhaps if you don’t see things my way to the extent I want you to, they may help me.”
Dorothy looked frightened. “Oh, Lance! What in the world are you going to propose? Please don’t ask me to take your part if you have been having an argument with father. I may not think you are in the right. Suppose we have afternoon tea before you tell us anything. We brought the tea things over in the canoe and Ouida and I have been collecting the materials for a fire.”
Doggedly Lance shook his head.