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Updated: May 3, 2025
Dorothy McClain stooped to pick up a fallen book. She was paying a slightly puzzled attention to the other girl's odd conversation. "Would it not be difficult to persuade your mother to believe, Louise, that you and I are interested in our camp housekeeping? Miss Mason said the other day you probably would earn a merit badge before the summer was past for cooking over a camp fire.
Her face was whiter than usual from anxiety and fatigue, yet Donald McClain liked her appearance. His brothers and other people might insist there were several girls in the Girl Scout Troop of the Eagle's Wing far prettier than Victoria Drew Teresa Peterson, with her half Italian beauty, his own sister, Dorothy, Joan Peters, with her regular features and patrician air.
The morning bugle must have sounded more than an hour before. The early drill was over. By the open fire Tory now beheld Dorothy McClain and Louise Miller preparing breakfast. Placing her hands to her lips she uttered their Scout signal call. A few minutes later Donald and Lance McClain were standing in the open space before the Girl Scout camp.
She believed the way one might well believe that cavemen were devoured by dinosaurs, that Shirley McClain was god as proven by having written it in a book, that out-of-body experiences for near-deathors were proof that there was a soul, and that people were actually napped by aliens into these fancy UFO space shuttles.
Of course I am happier to-day, happier than a dozen letters proclaiming me an heiress could ever make me. "Dr. McClain and two other surgeons who have seen me believe there is a possibility I may be well. They are not absolutely sure. Don't look so queer, Tory."
"Yes," Tory replied, beginning to be anxious to go back to Kara and wishing Lance would finish what he was endeavoring to say. The other Girl Scouts might come back to camp at any moment. She did not wish to be discovered seated under a beech tree conversing with Lance McClain, whose presence at their camp was neither invited nor desired.
The audience beholds him struggle with the storm and then reach a safe harbor. On the shore he piles up branches and lies down upon a bed of leaves. A short time passes and Odysseus sleeps. This opening scene in the tableaux Donald McClain insisted was the most difficult in the entire program.
I thought you would appreciate this sisterly attention more than rushing to greet you at once. I saw you were not lonely." "Good to see you, Dot. You are looking in great shape, only we must be off at once," Donald answered, still appearing uncomfortable and obstinate. Between Dorothy and Tory Drew a signal was flashed of which no one of the small group save Lance McClain was aware.
Where could there be a more perfect opportunity than here in the heart of Beechwood Forest in their own "Choros," or dancing-ground? The figure approaching was not a girl's. At some distance off Tory recognized Lance McClain. He was strolling calmly along in the most unconcerned fashion, a book open in his hand. Now and then he glanced down and read a few lines.
Donald McClain did not think quickly nor could he express his point of view until he had given a subject serious consideration. "I don't see any comparison between your Girl Scout camp and our own, Tory," he returned at length. "The two camps are not in the least alike. In the first place, you tell me that you have only fourteen Girl Scouts and we have nearly forty boys.
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