She wished Dorothy for a moment would be less faithful to her task of preparing breakfast. Mingling with the other outdoor fragrances, the odor of the coffee gave Tory a sensation of momentary faintness from sheer hunger.
Don had squared his shoulders. Not sixteen, he was nearly six feet in height and splendidly built.
“You are mistaken, Miss Mason. I was with the other Boy Scouts the night we came over to your camp. We meant to frighten you a little and to find out a few of the mistakes you were pretty sure to make on your first camping venture, nothing worse! We had no idea you’d take a little teasing so seriously. Some of us may not have behaved as well as we should, but nothing for the girls to have made a tragedy over.”
Donald was not intending to offend the Girl Scout Captain more deeply, but tact was not his strong point.
Why did Lance fail to come to his brother’s rescue? Tory flashed an indignant glance at him. He possessed, when he wished, the gift of expression his brother lacked. Lance’s occasional moods of silence were due either to disappointment or anger.
Arriving a stranger in Westhaven the winter before, among Victoria Drew’s first acquaintances were Dorothy McClain and her six brothers. Their father was the leading physician in Westhaven and an old friend of her aunt and uncle. They were neighbors as well.
In the beginning Tory had believed she preferred Lance to any of the other boys. He was Dorothy’s favorite among her brothers, a delicate, musical chap, partly admired and partly scorned by the five who were stronger and more matter of fact.
Lance’s passion for music, of which he knew but little, his desire to be left alone, his failure in most athletic sports, the rest of his family found annoying and amusing.
Lance McClain alone was like his mother who had died some years before, the others like Dr. McClain.
“Lance, why in the world don’t you help Don out? You know he will only make things worse if left to himself.” Tory whispered at this moment.