rean put an arm about her.

"Stand still, Tory. Let us wait here and see who is approaching."

CHAPTER XI

OUT OF THE PAST

The stranger was a middle-aged man with iron-gray hair. He was
carrying his hat in his hand and enjoying the beauty and fragrance of
the late evening in the woods.

As Tory rushed toward him, Miss Frean stepped back into a deeper
shadow.

The newcomer was Tory's uncle, Mr. Richard Fenton.

"How stupid of me to have been frightened!" she exclaimed. "I have
been taking supper with Miss Frean and she is walking back to camp
with me. You were coming to camp to see us?"

Mr. Fenton agreed, walking forward to speak to Memory Frean. Except
for an occasional meeting upon the streets of Westhaven, and one or
two brief conversations with regard to the Girl Scout camp in
Beechwood Forest, they had not seen each other in many years.

To-night in the depth of the woods, with Tory walking between them,
they talked as if neither of them recalled any past intimacy.

"I have been a little worried about you, Tory," Mr. Fenton said
finally. "You have not been in town to see me in a number of days. I
thought it was agreed that we were to see each other once a week."

Tory nodded.

"Yes, I have missed you dreadfully, but I have been so busy. I thought
if you became very lonely you would come and find me," she announced,
with the familiarity of a delightful intimacy.

By and by when Miss Frean and Mr. Fenton continued talking, the
barrier between them increasing, Tory scarcely listened, thinking
their conversation not particularly entertaining.

They were merely discussing the weather and the scenery.

In another quarter of an hour the lights of the camp showed nearby.
Darkness had not completely descended. Outdoors one could still see
one's way.

The chief lights appeared inside the evergreen cabin, while in front
of the door stood a large automobile.

Fearing that Kara had grown unexpectedly worse, Tory darted away from
her companions and into the cabin.

The car she saw was not Dr. McClain's.

Entering the room, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, she found
it filled with people.

Kara sat in the center in her wheeled chair. She looked pale but
excited and interested.

Three visitors were standing near her. They were Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy
Hammond and the little girl, Lucy Martin, whom they had adopted some
months ago.

In the years at the old Gray House on the hill in Westhav