“As for Louise, she adores you. I wonder if she is not troubled about something she does not think she ought to confide to you or any one of the Girl Scouts? I confess I have noticed that Louise has been quieter since the night of our Christmas Eve party.”

There was no chance for a further confidence, as Tory flew to answer a timid knock on the door left half ajar.

The Girl Scouts of the Round Table — Part 48

Immediately she opened it wider, Louise Miller came into the room.

The Girl Scouts of the Round Table — Part 48

Her face was flushed and there were circles about her light gray eyes with their curiously dark lashes. She was panting as if out of breath.

The Girl Scouts of the Round Table — Part 48

“Dorothy, I found I could get here sooner than I thought, and I want to apologize to you for having kept you waiting and then failing to explain over the telephone. Mother and I were talking over something and she suddenly announced she did not wish me to come to the Scout meeting. I was to stay at home and help with some sewing for the younger children. Finally I induced her to let me bring the work here. Mother seems to feel I have no right to be a Girl Scout these days! I am growing so much more stupid and self-centered and uninterested in my household duties. If only I were more like you and Tory, Dorothy! I never see you in this old room, Tory, without thinking what a picture you make, especially in your Girl Scout costume. Forgive my not speaking to you when I came in, I was thinking only of Dorothy.”

“You nearly always are thinking of Dorothy, aren’t you, Ouida?--so I forgive you. Yet Dorothy believes you do not care for her as you once did, now when she specially needs you because of Lance.”

In one of her rare outbursts of affection Louise clasped her arms about her friend.

“Dorothy, if you only knew how much I do care! Still I realize I have behaved strangely of late, ever since the holidays. There is something I must tell you, only I cannot just now.”

Through the open door the three girls beheld Teresa Peterson approaching. Teresa’s cheeks were a deeper rose, her dusky hair less neat than she ordinarily arranged it. Her lips and eyes were mutinous.

“Well, I am glad we are to have a Scout meeting this afternoon. Certainly I need something to reform my disposition! Ever since Christmas things have been so dull and horrid.”