Not the slightest intimation did his manner reveal that he ought to regard himself as an unwelcome visitor in the Girl Scout camp.
Tory had not seen him since the morning when he had aided in bringing Kara home. On that occasion he had been told that the girls were still undecided whether they wished to have anything further to do with Lance’s group of Boy Scouts during their summer camping season.
“Hello, Tory; I hoped I would find you outdoors,” he called out amiably when within a few yards of the evergreen house.
Tory ran down the steps.
“Don’t make a racket, Lance! What in the world are you doing here? Kara is asleep and I am on guard. You know you are not supposed to come to our camp. I feel as people used to in the old fairy stories and legends. Somehow I must try to save you from having your head chopped off, or some other fearful end. I do consider you deserve it, but somehow it would be unpleasant.”
“Your gentleness and kindness of heart overpower me, Oh, Victoria of Beechwood Forest,” Lance answered. He bowed in the graceful fashion that for some unexplainable reason often aggravated Tory, and Dorothy and Donald McClain; Lance’s own sister and brother.
Lance was too unlike other boys at times not to be trying.
“Come down to the shore of the lake with me, won’t you Princess Nausicaa?” he demanded. “See how well I remember the name some one bestowed upon you when I was here before. I have another reason for recalling it. I shall explain in another instant if you will be so good as to listen.
“What a pleasure to find you alone! Of course I expected it. I can’t say I should have cared to enter this particular camp if I had been forced to face the entire troop of disapproving maiden Scouts. Still, there is something I am anxious to have brought to your attention. Come along, Tory.”
The girl shook her head.