The Girl Scouts of the Round Table 22

The Girl Scouts of the Round Table 22

“Of course I have been driving before! Mr. and Mrs. Hammond and Lucy

have taken me several times in their car. Once, not long ago, Lance

actually appeared in a taxicab which he said he had the privilege of

using for two hours. He told me the friend who had been so kind to him

wished him to invite me for a ride through Central Park. Lance wanted

to talk of the wonderful chance he thought might be coming to him.”

 

The opening had seemed propitious. Tory nodded at Dorothy to ask her

advice.

 

Then observing that Kara was laughing at them both, she hesitated.

 

Dorothy made no pretence of introducing the subject. She and Tory had

agreed that it was wiser for Tory to give an outline of the situation,

with Dorothy to corroborate and add convincing details that otherwise

might be forgotten.

 

Between her two friends upon the low, broad seat of an old-fashioned

vehicle which resembled a victoria, a favorite equipage of bygone days,

Kara now slipped her hand inside theirs.

 

“Do you suppose I have had a drive I have enjoyed like this with both

of you beside me? But, Tory dear, please tell me what it is you wish to

say. I hope you may never have any _very_ important secret to conceal,

you are so transparent! This afternoon I don’t mind hearing, as from

your __EXPRESSION__ I am sure it is something exciting. So I can listen

and look at our surroundings at the same time, can’t I?”

 

“No, Kara, you must give me your undivided attention,” Tory replied, so

solemnly that the other girl was silenced. A slight wave of what might

have suggested regret passed over her face.

 

Life had been so full of serious things these past six months, she had

wanted one happy afternoon, when she might forget.

 

During the long recital she had asked a few questions and at this

instant had uttered her innermost conviction.

 

“I believe you are mistaken, Kara. When you see Mr. Moore you will feel

differently. He is very quiet and seems to dislike meeting strangers

and having to discuss his private affairs. He declares that the thought

of having failed to keep his promise, and knowing nothing of the little

girl he was to care for all these years, has made him more of a recluse

than he might otherwise have been. As a matter of fact, father says he

is convinced at last that Mr. Moore is telling the truth. He has seen

his lawyer and learned that he is a member of a distinguished family

and has the reputation for being extremely cultured and generous.

Certainly his kindness to Lance might have convinced father without

further investigation! I really believe that father, without realizing

the fact, is a little jealous because Mr. Moore has been able to do for

Lance what he could not afford, and Lance adores him!” Dorothy McClain

interposed, observing that Tory appeared crestfallen at the fashion in

which Kara had received the amazing story.

 

“Yes, I understand, Dorothy. I am not in the least venturing to dispute

Mr. Moore’s account of what he thinks occurred so many years ago. I

only very seriously doubt that I have any part in it. I presume there

are hundreds of other children who are as likely to be the girl he is

seeking.” Kara’s tone lacked entire conviction.

 

“Please don’t say what you really know isn’t true, Kara!” Tory

protested, with more irritability than she realized. She had been

tremendously keyed up over the problem of imparting the extraordinary

situation to the other girl. She could not help being annoyed by Kara’s

calm dismissal of its importance.

 

“It is absurd to pretend that the fact the name ‘Katherine Moore’

was pinned to your dress, when you were discovered, does not help

in identifying you. Mr. Moore says that your mother asked that you

be called by his name. He spoke of you as Katherine before any one

thought of mentioning the one thing that _is known_ concerning you.

Is it that you do not want what we have told you to be true, Kara? To

deny that you are the girl Mr. Moore is searching for is ridiculous.

He has undeniable proof that Westhaven is between twenty and thirty

miles from the farm where he found you and your mother. The evergreen

cabin is along the route to the station where he took the train for

Boston. Mr. Moore believes that he realized he was ill and started out

to find some one to look after you. He must have grown worse, because

he knew nothing for several weeks. Then he found himself in a hospital

in Boston. Dr. McClain says this often occurs in illness. Mr. Moore

had intended going to Boston and must have gotten on board the train.

Afterwards people on the train took charge of him; they found his name

and address from letters in his pocket. He was an old bachelor with no

close relatives and had confided to no one where he had gone, but his

friends were looking after him when he recovered consciousness.”

 

“Yes, Tory, you seem to have arranged everything satisfactorily, as

if you had been writing a mystery story and had carefully gathered up

all the clews! May I be allowed to say that I would like to have it

explained to me why a package of letters were given to me at the end of

last summer found in the old fireplace at the evergreen cottage? Did

the eccentric old bachelor dispose of the letters in the same fashion

he got rid of me?”

 

“Then you confess you were the child, Kara?” Tory interrupted. “Don’t

attempt to pretend you do not think so after what you have said.”

 

“But I am _not_ convinced. I think it is all very tiresome and absurd

and I wish you had never told me. After all, suppose it is true and I

am the girl, he is no relative of mine! I prefer the Gray House and my

friends in Westhaven. I don’t wish to have anything to do with this Mr.

Moore. Dr. McClain says I may be well in a year or so and then I shall

be able to take care of myself.”

 

A second time Tory was beginning to protest and reproach Kara for

her unreasonable attitude, but a warning glance from Dorothy McClain

restrained her.

 

Kara’s color, her cheerful __EXPRESSION__ had vanished. She was white and

exhausted.

 

“If you don’t mind, I think I would like to go back to the hospital; I

am tired all of a sudden,” she remarked.

 

Tory was frightened.

 

She had insisted that Kara be told the peculiar circumstances she had

just related, arguing that she would receive the information in her

usual sensible and matter-of-fact fashion.

 

Kara had been through too much suffering and anxiety since her accident

the summer before to have any new problem presented to her. Should they

have waited until she was stronger? Tory was not sure.

 

She put her arm about the slender figure.

 

“Do try not to think any more of what we have been talking about for

the present, Kara. It is my fault, I wanted you to hear. If you don’t

like Mr. Moore you need not have anything to do with him. You have

friends enough if he never had been heard of! I shall hate it if he

does more for you than we can. Just the same I think you had best know

that Mr. Moore has seen the letters. Mr. Hammond showed them to him.

They were ordinary friendly letters he had written your mother from

time to time, not important, and thinks he must have thrown them into

the fire with the idea of burning them. There is no question that the

letters were written by him, as his handwriting is exactly the same.”

 

“Do you think it my duty to see this Mr. Moore, Dorothy? I know what

Tory will say,” Kara inquired when they were within a block of their

destination. “Can you imagine anything more disappointing than for a

man of the kind Lance describes, cultured, musical, of a distinguished

family, to have to devote any time or thought to so insignificant a

person as I am? There is _one_ consolation, he is sure to like me even

less than I shall like him.”

 

“I would not trouble. I would not see Mr. Moore for the present, Kara

dear,” Dorothy answered in a calm and reassuring tone. “In any case you

must talk the matter over with father before you decide. He is coming

to see you after dinner to-night, as he must return to Westhaven in the

morning. If you do conclude to see Mr. Moore, why, I would not for days

and days until I was in exactly the right mood.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVII

 

AN ANNOUNCEMENT

 

 

An occasional early spring day was making its appearance in the

Connecticut valley. Only a few faint spears of green showed on the

long, pointed fingers of the willow trees, a bursting of the hardiest

buds on the lilac bushes, while the pussy willow was enjoying its usual

triumph, the first harbinger of the approaching season.

 

As a matter of fact, when the Girl Scouts and their Troop Captain set

out on their afternoon hike, except to eager and trained eyes winter

was still chiefly in evidence.

 

In out-of-the-way places there were thin layers of ice with the melted

water showing beneath. The skies were gray, with rare streaks of blue,

the atmosphere had the clear sharpness of recent frost, the wind blew

with a definite chillness.

 

The group of twelve girls and their Captain were on their way to

Beechwood Forest, where they had spent the previous summer in camping.

 

“Do you suppose we can manage to stop by the House in the Woods and see

Miss Frean? I have not seen her in ages!” Dorothy McClain remarked. “Do

you see as much of her as usual, Tory?”

 

Her companion shook her head.

 

“No; I don’t believe Memory cares for me as much as she did when we

first knew each other. It is difficult to explain. She is as kind and

charming as ever, but I have lost the feeling that she wants me with

her. Uncle Richard no longer goes to see her. I don’t know what could

have happened and he declined to explain. After Memory’s illness in

the early winter he used to call on her frequently. I have sometimes

wondered if I remind her too much of him. But here I am romancing

again! Glad you do not object so seriously as Kara!”