“Oh, of course if there is any chance Lance or I can be of further use we’ll be glad to stay. You ought to go to bed, Tory, and not wait for father.”
Tory shook her head. Her face was whiter than usual from anxiety and fatigue, yet Donald McClain liked her appearance.
His brothers and other people might insist there were several girls in the Girl Scout Troop of the Eagle’s Wing far prettier than Victoria Drew—Teresa Peterson, with her half Italian beauty, his own sister, Dorothy, Joan Peters, with her regular features and patrician air. Don knew that Tory possessed a charm and vividness, a quickness of thought and a grace of movement more attractive to him than ordinary beauty.
Forgetting their companions, they walked off together, leaving the others to follow.
“If you only knew how I have been longing to show you our camp in Beechwood Forest, Don! Please say you think it is wonderful,” Tory pleaded.
CHAPTER III
THEIR CAMP
They were seated along the edge of the lake, six girls and their two visitors. The water was a still, dim blue reflection of the sky with one deep shadow from the hill of pines. Away from the hill and the lake stood the forest of beechwood trees.