Dorothy, as the only daughter, might have had greater indulgences. Every now and then Dr. McClain regarded her half wistfully and half critically, begging her to tell him if she was as well looked after as the other girls who were her friends and had mothers. Dorothy used only to laugh at him and insist that she possessed everything in the world she required, promising to inform him the instant she found herself in need. The truth was that Dorothy, with her half-boyish attitude toward life, so far had given little consideration to the question of her own costumes.
Of the girls in her Patrol, only Teresa Peterson was really intensely interested in the subject up to the present time, although several of the other girls showed unmistakable signs of increasing concern.
Now with the problem of Lance to be immediately solved, Dorothy wished she had developed more feminine knowledge and taste, at least where her brothers were concerned.
Mr. Moore, Lance’s friend, and in some measure Kara’s guardian, although she had not agreed to legal adoption, had offered to supply him with whatever might be missing from his present outfit. This Dr. McClain utterly refused to consider. Trying enough to his pride and sense of responsibility to permit Lance’s other expenses to be paid by almost a complete stranger! In the face of Lance’s impassioned desire and pleading he could not refuse, but certainly the boy should not start off like a pauper!
What made conditions more difficult for Dorothy and the elderly housekeeper was, that having delivered this ultimatum, neither the Doctor nor Lance appeared to have any further concern in the matter. All they did was to drive around together, not talking a great deal, Lance simply sitting quietly with his father and waiting for him in the ancient automobile when he disappeared to make his daily calls.
On the afternoon before Lance was to return to New York Dorothy was complaining of this difficulty before a group of intimate friends upon the back veranda of the old Fenton house.
Hand in hand, like a little girl and boy, Lance and Dorothy had run across the street to say farewell to Tory and Kara, as Lance was to go back to town a little earlier than his traveling companion.
Ten minutes after their arrival, Don had followed, not wishing to be left out.
They had drifted out upon the back porch after drinking hot chocolate in the dining-room and eating one of Sarah’s cakes, especially baked for the farewell feast.
The spring afternoon was chilly and the back garden looked slightly forbidding. The grass was only faintly green, Miss Victoria’s favorite shrubs were still wrapped in straw and the birds in the old fruit trees appeared to have no animation save to seek shelter.