"Do you remember about two weeks ago when Mr. Fenton talked to us about the Greek spirit? He said that to him it represented, beauty, adventure and freedom."
Dorothy sighed.
"Dear me, Lance, I was afraid at the time you might take Mr. Fenton"s speech personally! What are you planning to do in quest of beauty, freedom and adventure?"
Dorothy"s expression was worried but amused, and Lance flushed. Upon only one subject was he particularly sensitive, his devotion to music and his own lack of any knowledge of it.
In a measure his sister could surmise something of what he had in mind.
"My effort was not to be a very serious one, Dot," he said slowly; "at least I did not feel it go until after my talk with father. He seems to have gone up in the air. I don"t want to spend next winter in Westhaven. I simply can not endure any longer never having music lessons from any one who knows how to teach and not even hearing any music worth listening to."
Lance set his teeth.
"I don"t ask anyone to understand, you can"t if you try."
Dorothy"s blue eyes grew more troubled.
"I know, Lance, but I do try," she returned. "And I would give anything, make any sacrifice I knew how to make if father were willing or had the money to send you to New York to study. But he is not willing and he has not the money."
"I know, that is just it. I don"t mean to ask him for money. I have been writing letters to people in New York and trying to get work and now I have succeeded in landing something that will give me enough to live on, so you won"t have to worry."
"But, Lance, there is school. You are only fifteen and you can"t stop school, it is even against the law. You must have pretended you were older."
"I can go to school at night when I have finished working; I explained this to father," Lance argued patiently.
"What about the music? When will you have money or time for lessons?"
Tory interrupted, not intending to intrude upon the discussion, but in her interest forgetting her resolution.
A little less self-confident Lance appeared.
"Honestly, I don"t know, Tory," he replied. "I think I feel that if once I get where music is, the opportunity will come to me as rain and sunshine come to trees and the things that need them. Gee whiz, I am talking like a poet or a girl! Father would not think this line of conversation convincing. You"ll think up a better line of argument, won"t you Dorothy? Then when your time comes and you want something a whole lot I"ll do my best for you."
"But, Lance, I--" Dorothy hesitated--"I don"t want you to go away from home; I don"t think it best for you. You ought to wait several years anyhow. You are not strong and you"d be ill. You don"t believe it, but father cares more for you than for the rest of us because you are more like mother. Please put things off a while longer in your own mind.
Truly, father will not consent for the present."
Lance got up.
"All right, Dorothy, don"t say anything to father on the subject. If you try to do your best for me what you really think will be plain enough. I am sorry to have interrupted you; I"m off."
Nor would Lance remain in spite of the pleading of his sister and friends.
Disconsolately they watched the slender figure in the canoe push away from sh.o.r.e.
Afterwards they made no pretence of cheerfulness. Tory would not return to her drawing; Dorothy was too depressed even to a.s.sist in making tea.
An hour later they were on the way back to their own camp.
CHAPTER XIX
LETTERS
Mr. Jeremy Hammond personally conducted the search.
The evergreen cabin had been erected without foundation save a number of cross beams. There was no cellar except one a few feet square under the small room that served as a kitchen. The logs that upheld the old house were singularly free from decay.
Standing upon one of them, a line of Girl Scouts on either side of him, Mr. Hammond gazed downward with an air of discouragement.
"I am obliged to confess I see no place that gives one a right to believe we shall discover a secret treasure," he remarked. "I am glad Kara is unaware of our effort. I was wrong in speaking to her on the subject. I suppose I am hopelessly romantic and have been cherishing the idea of some day discovering further information about the little girl I rescued a number of years ago. We shall find nothing here."
Tory touched him on the arm.
"Please, Mr. Hammond, don"t let us start out upon our search in such a hopeless spirit. I feel as you say you do about Kara. Ever since I met her I have been convinced we would learn that she had a delightful background of some kind, which would explain why she is so brave and charming."
Mr. Hammond smiled.
"No, Tory, I cannot go so far as you. I have never antic.i.p.ated so much. Besides, I do not consider it necessary. Personality is the strongest force in the world, not the question of one"s immediate ancestors. I am not decrying the ancestors, only if one possesses an unusual personality it may come from further back in the stream of life and the stream was the same for us all in the beginning.
"I have merely hoped to come across a clue which might give Kara an idea of her parentage, or perhaps, a relative who would be kind and interested in her."
Tory looked disappointed.
"Kara has plenty of people who are interested in her, and friends may be as satisfactory as relatives." In this sentiment Mr. Hammond may or may not have agreed. Already he had commenced tapping on the logs with the end of his cane and digging underneath in any stray spot that he hoped might develop into the receptacle of a box or treasure of some kind.
The girls went about upon their own quests. Unfortunate that there was no greater amount of s.p.a.ce, no secret chambers and pa.s.sages to be investigated. This would have lent a glamour, a romance that nothing about the little evergreen cabin afforded.
An hour and the exploration became of necessity over.
Nothing of any interest had been unearthed.
Disconsolately Mr. Hammond seated himself upon an upturned stool. A few of the Girl Scouts cl.u.s.tered about him; the others unwilling to give up, were still poking about in unlikely places.
Alone Tory Drew"s original ardor continued unquenched.
All day she had a vision of herself going to Kara at the old Gray House with information that would bring a new happiness into the clear gray eyes grown so wistful in these weeks of a summer time they had thought to be so happy.
No one place had been more thoroughly searched than the corners of the old brick fireplace that divided the living room and the kitchen with a single chimney.
Yet kneeling down once more Tory began a last search, poking about into impossible crannies.
Exhausted, she finally surrendered. No reward was to be theirs, and they had only been wasting valuable energy and time.
Nevertheless Tory did not feel in the mood for discussing this obvious fact with the others.
Near the old fireplace was a small collection of loose bricks.
Arranging them into a low square Tory seated herself, leaning her head against the left corner of the chimney.