Unaware of her own action, Tory shook her head.
She was too tired to sketch, and worse, felt no inspiration or desire. Next to her grief over Kara was her disappointment in regard to her summer’s work.
Miss Mason had agreed that she might try for a Merit Badge as an artist during their camp. Surely she had sufficient talent to have won it. She had looked forward to having an arm filled with worth-while sketches of her outdoor summer to show her father upon his return to Westhaven.
Now she must face the fact that she would have not a single drawing she would care to submit to competent judges, not even a sketch she would be willing to have her father criticize.
Of course she would be glad to have sacrificed her summer to Kara, if Kara had revealed a moderate amount of appreciation.
In truth Kara was not even as fond of her as she had been in the past before she had been able to show her devotion. To do one’s best and always seem inadequate is not a condition many persons can face cheerfully.
Inside, in the room beyond the open door, the other girl stirred, and Tory glanced in.
On a cot by a window Kara lay asleep.
The room had changed since her coming. Formerly it had been the Girl Scout living room. Here they had eaten their meals and held their Scout meetings on the occasional rainy evenings when their more splendid outdoor meeting place had been less comfortable.
This could still be managed if Kara were well enough or in the mood to take part. But always her comfort and her wish were first.