ing her handkerchief to her eyes, was wiping
away an uncomfortable moisture. Her cheeks were deeply flushed and her
lips tremulous.

Lucy Martin sat contentedly on a cushion at Kara's feet.

She had not been permitted to bear away the other girl as she had
planned. However, she was allowed to stay on with the Girl Scouts in
their camp for a visit which made her equally content.

To Mr. and Mrs. Hammond she had explained that she could not leave for
two reasons. Kara needed her and Tory was making a picture of her.
Either reason she considered sufficient. Apparently Mr. and Mrs.
Hammond had agreed for the present.

"I believe, although the boys have left the final choice with us, that
it will be best to follow their selection of characters," Margaret
Hale remarked.

The Troop Captain looked up from her book, first toward Teresa and
then Margaret.

"I do not see what else is possible under the circumstances. We are to
make two or three changes, but they are not important ones. I am sorry
Teresa is disappointed. She insists that Lance originally suggested to
her she could represent Penelope, so I presume she has built upon the
idea. Yet it does seem more appropriate for Joan Peters to play the
part of the famous lady with the web, the wife of Odysseus. There is
no question, Teresa, of your not acting as well, but this is scarcely
a question of acting, but of appearing to the best advantage in the
series of tableaux. And Joan does look more like one's conception of
Penelope than you. Except for Lance McClain's suggestion to you, and
he should not have expressed an opinion without consulting the others,
the choice has always been between Dorothy McClain and Joan. The
majority finally decided in favor of Joan because Donald McClain is to
appear as Odysseus and Don and Dorothy are brother and sister. Perhaps
there would be less illusion in having them represent a husband and
wife."

"I suppose it is because Joan is taller and her features more regular
and she is prettier, that she was chosen to play Penelope," Teresa
murmured in an injured tone and with such a gentle suggestion of
melancholy, that Joan Peters appeared extremely uncomfortable.

"I don't see it that way, Teresa, and I am perfectly willing to give
up in your favor if the others will agree. Of course it is ridiculous
to talk of any question of beauty having been considered. You know you
are absurdly pretty, Teresa, and are merely trying to make some one