“Oh, it is nothing to create envy, hatred, malice or other uncharitableness, Tory,” Louise answered, her serenity restored, and smiling happily. “You would hate what Miss Frean and I are planning to do. I am to be allowed to spend an afternoon each week with her and go on with the studies of the outdoors that I found so thrilling during our summer camp. We are going to study tree-ology and bug-ology and stone-ology. Miss Frean insists she does not know about them, but we can work outdoors together and she will have as much pleasure as I feel. This cannot be true, but is a delightful idea. She does not think it absurd for me to wish to become a naturalist. One may have it for a pastime at least! Anyhow, I won’t do what I dislike all the time!”
Half an hour later one would scarcely have believed in the lessening of the affection between Tory Drew and Memory Frean.
The Troop of Scouts and their Captain having halted at the House in the Woods, Miss Frean had been persuaded to join them for the deeper walk into the forest.
The beech woods were full of shadows and little shivery, sighing winds. A few seared leaves that had clung all winter to the otherwise bare branches rattled and shook like castanets. The younger beeches showed a few uncurling leaves and ripples of light along the gray-brown bark of their trunks.
On the ground under the trees were the first spring beauties and wild pale violets.
The girls had scattered into groups and were investigating the favorite haunts of the past summer.
Tory Drew led Miss Frean apart from the others and away from the woods toward the shore of the small lake. Above rose the three pine hills.
The girl shrugged her shoulders with a faintly nervous gesture.
“I don’t like the woods to-day for some reason, Memory; they are kind of ghosty and unfriendly. I like shining places filled with light and color.”
The older woman shook her head.