The meeting with Tory had brought back old friends and memories. Tory had introduced her to the Girl Scouts of the Eagle’s Wing. Now, as a member of their Council, Memory felt as if the girls were her adopted daughters.
Edith Linder had been in a measure her adopted daughter. She had lived for the past winter in the house with Miss Frean.
Now Edith uttered an exclamation of pleasure, which at Tory’s gesture she quickly subdued.
Memory Frean was standing in the center of a plot of grass with her arms outstretched. Fluttering about her head were a family of wrens. Two had alighted within the palms of her hands and were gazing toward her with serious intentness.
In a nearby tree stood a new bird house, which she must recently have placed in position, as not far off was another bird house smaller and shabbier. Outside the door of the new home a feast of bread crumbs had been spread.
By and by one of the wrens flying near the new abode, pecked at a crumb. Something gave him confidence and courage. Inside the open door he disappeared. Instantly the entire family followed.
The three visitors burst into a cry of admiration. Memory Frean came toward them, still with her arms outstretched.
“I have been expecting you all day. No Girl Scout has been near me since Edith came on a borrowing expedition late yesterday afternoon. If you had waited any longer I should have been offended. See, I have put on a clean dress, and the water is boiling for tea, and the table spread in the Shakespeare garden.”
Miss Frean led the way, with Edith and Tory clinging to her and Sheila Mason following.
The herbs in the Shakespeare garden were in the perfection of bloom. In the fragrance of the summer air mingled the pungent odors of thyme and marjoram, sage and rosemary.