“Come here and help, Grace!” called Percy from the tent where she was shaking out the heavy blankets. “I’m not going to do all my work and yours, too.”
“You come and help me. It’s more fun,” returned Grace, laughing at her.
Then the lazy girl turned and reached for a particularly juicy blackberry, in the clump ahead of her. Percy saw her struck motionless for a second, or two; then the big girl fairly fell backward, rolled over, picked herself up, and raced back to the tents, her mouth wide open and her hair streaming in the wind.
“What is the matter?” gasped Percy.
“Oh, Grace! you look dreadful! Tell us, what has happened!” begged Bessie, as the big girl sank down by the entrance to the tent, her limbs too weak to bear her farther.
“What has scared you so, Grace?” demanded Wyn, running up.
Grace’s eyes rolled, she shut and opened her mouth again several times. Then she was only able to gasp out the one word:
“Bear!”
The other girls came crowding around. “What do you mean, Grace?” “Stop trying to scare us, Grace!” “She’s fooling,” were some of the cries they uttered.
But Wyn saw that her friend was really frightened; she was not “putting it on.”