Don was right, Lance McClain thought, Tory Drew had a character of attraction no one of her Troop of Girl Scouts possessed, except of course their own sister, Dorothy. Dorothy was altogether different. Lance knew that he was sufficiently like Tory in some characteristics to understand her better than his brother or sister. They were alike; they could admire or be angry with her, they would not always understand her.
“Look here, Miss Victoria Drew, how old are you?” Mr. Winslow asked abruptly. He did not appear offended, however, merely amused. “I have been talking to you as if you were a grown woman and now you inform me I should follow your example and become a Girl Scout. Offer me advice that is a little less impossible! Besides, what or who is a Girl Scout?”
Tory shook her head. Her hair under a small blue velvet hat looked an especially bright red-gold.
“I am nearly fifteen. It would require too long a time to tell you what it means to be a Girl Scout. Perhaps there were no Boy Scouts when you were young enough to join their organization. If only you would come to Westhaven I should like you to meet our Patrol of the Eagle’s Wing Troop. Besides, it would do you good. Won’t you come? The country is beautiful with its white covering of snow. My aunt, Miss Victoria Fenton, is a wonderful housekeeper and you and Uncle Richard would be sure to like each other. Besides, there is our Troop Captain, Sheila Mason. I wish some day you might know her and paint her portrait. She is lovely, but altogether unlike the portraits you have done.”
Tory glanced not very admiringly at the heads of men and women adorning the artist’s gray walls. His models had assuredly not been chosen for their beauty.
This time Mr. Winslow returned Tory’s laughter with emphasis.
She had divined that he was lonely and disillusioned and that, as in most cases, the fault was as much his own as his world’s.
“Fifteen, and I have been talking to you as if you were a woman! I suppose I had forgotten what your father wrote. In any case I might have known by looking at you. I don’t often pay visits, but if your aunt and uncle would like to have me at any time, perhaps I’ll come and look over other drawings you have done and tell you how poor they are. You are too young for anything but your three ‘R’s’ at present. But we might have a few lessons for the sake of the good time we would have and because your father has been kinder to me than he would be willing to let other people know.”
At a signal from Tory, Dorothy and Lance had arisen. The three of them were preparing to leave, aware of having remained longer than they should. Outside, the winter twilight had almost completely closed in.
Lighting a pair of candles, Mr. Winslow turned to Dorothy and Lance, fearing that he had not shown sufficient attention to his other visitors in his interest in his old friend’s daughter.