“Lectures,” was the terse reply. “It’s the Seminar Building. But don’t try to listen in on them,” he said, apparently amused at the expression on Judy’s keen and inquisitive face.
“I see you’ve got a sketch pad,” he went on. “If you are interested in art, you’ll find the walls lined with paintings—American subjects—very fine.” and with a nod, he was gone.
She went in and remained, examining the paintings long after the students and visitors left.
One day she got up enough courage to go into the Jerome Hotel. Assuming an air of confidence, which she was far from feeling, she followed some ladies entering the lobby and doggedly kept at their heels until they reached the pool.
How blue it looked under the dazzling sun! As fresh and cool as the forests on Aspen Mountain not far in the distance! Guests sat on the lawn beside the pool, their sunburnt bodies shaded by bright, colored umbrellas. They were laughing, talking, eating.... Shouts from the pool. She felt so alone. It was not the first time she recalled her grandmother’s words.
Monday morning came. Would this be another week of half-kept promises?
At breakfast her mother said brightly, “Judy, I have some news for you. I just heard about a camp and I met the girl who runs it. She’s charming and I took such a fancy to her.”
“A camp? Here in Aspen?” Judy asked, interested, but a little cautious. “What kind of a camp?”
“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.”
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.”