aken,
Dorothy following the lure of some new wild flower and Gwendolyn
stiffly following her. Only a minute before the chatter and laughter
of many girls had filled the air; now, save for their own footsteps on
the fallen leaves, there was no sound.

"I wonder where the rest are! Did you see which way they went,
Gwendolyn?"

"No. I didn't notice. But they're just around the next turn, I fancy.
Oh! to think I've found the Bath at last. I must make a little sketch
of it and come back as soon as I can with my color box. How the studio
girls will envy me! Every time we've been in these woods we've
searched for it and now to come upon it all at once, never dreaming,
makes me proud! But--_don't you tell_. I'd begun something else for
next exhibition, but I shall drop that and do this. I'll get leave to
do it in my recreation hours in some empty class room, and bring it
out as a surprise. I wish I'd found it alone. I wish nobody knew it
but me. It must be kept a secret--so don't you dare to tell. Come on."

"Huh! I reckon if you'll stick to facts, it was I--not you--who found
it. I don't see why I should keep it secret. It doesn't belong to
either of us, it belongs to the whole world. I wish everybody who
loves beauty could enjoy it," answered Dorothy, warmly.

"Well, go tell then, tattle-tale! You might know a common girl like
you would be hateful to her betters, if she got a chance!" retorted
Gwendolyn, angrily.

It rose to Dorothy's lips to respond: "Tattle-tale and mischief-maker
is what all the girls know _you_ are!" but she kept the hard words
back, "counting ten" vigorously, and also listening for some sound of
her now invisible schoolmates. She wasn't a timid girl, but the
silence of this deep forest startled her, nor looking around could she
discover by what path they had come to this place.

Then Gwendolyn was hurrying forward, carrying the pocket-pad and
pencil without which she went nowhere, and careless of everything but
to get her sketch. So Dorothy followed, forgetting her resentment in
watching her companion. To see Gwen's head turning this way, then
that, squinting her eyes and holding her pencil before them, measuring
distance thus and seeking the "right light," interested the watcher
for the time.

Finally, the artist had secured a point which suited her and, seating
herself, rapidly drew a picture of one view. She worked so deftly and
confidently, that Dorothy's only feeling now was one of admirati