“It’s a day camp. The hours are from eight-thirty to one o’clock, and it’s just been a Godsend to the mothers and the children. It’s called the Festival Day Camp.”
Judy’s face was a study. Her mother couldn’t possibly mean those little tots in the station wagon she had frequently passed on the road—the youngsters noisily piping their camp song, “We’re the Festival Day Camp, F-E-S-T-I-V-A-L.”
“How old are the children?”
Mrs. Lurie’s enthusiasm was slightly chilled by the ominous look on her daughter’s face. “Some are quite young, but,” she added hurriedly, “Mrs. Freiborg’s daughter is ten, possibly eleven. I understand they do interesting, creative things.” Mrs. Lurie found it difficult to go on. “It could be fun,” she finished on a note that sounded more like a dirge than a happy conviction.
“What would I be doing at such a camp!” Judy asked scathingly. “Please don’t worry about me, Mother. I am all right as I am.”
“Let’s discuss it later,” her mother pleaded. “This afternoon Mrs. Freiborg is definitely going to pick us up on her way to the pool.”
“Stop scowling, Judy,” her father said, displeased at Judy’s attitude. “Lynne, who runs it, is beautiful and extremely capable. Young as she is, she’s had years of experience. You won’t be just a camper, you’ll get to know Lynne. Her husband is one of the youngest men in our orchestra. They’re a delightful young couple. Mother has practically said you would go. We’re happy to spend the money.” He patted Judy’s shoulder affectionately. “At least you won’t be wandering around Aspen like a lost sheep.”
“But, Father, how can you expect me to go to a camp with such infants?”
“Suppose they are younger than you?” her father asked, trying to see Judy’s point of view. “What of it? While they carry on their activities, you can be doing other things on your own. Differences in age don’t matter as much as you think. We have youngsters and graybeards in our classes. Give it a try.” At the door he paused, “You get out of anything what you put into it.”
Still smarting under the unaccustomed pressure her parents were trying to exert, Judy started making her lunch. In her resentment she forgot the hours, the days of loneliness. She wrapped her sandwich and put it in her bag with pad, pencils, crayons, and change purse. With that awful camp looming on the not too distant horizon, she was determined to have a really good time today. Something exciting! But what? She couldn’t climb mountains by herself. Besides, all the trails were miles away. For a moment she considered Fran and as quickly dismissed him. He was busy all day riding the bus. All he ever did was to wave his hand and smile as he passed her.