There, lying in a white hospital bed, looking pale and very wan, was Nan. She smiled at their entrance. “I’m all right,” she said. “Don’t look so scared. Come in and sit down.”
They did, and it was a few seconds, a few awkward seconds, before anyone could think of anything to say. Twice Bess opened her mouth to speak, but when her friends looked at her warningly, she closed it again.
Finally, Rhoda found her voice. “Why, Nan,” she asked, and her glance, like that of the other girls was riveted on a big bouquet of red roses, “where in the world did you get those flowers?”
The color came back into Nan’s cheeks. “Can’t you guess?” She grinned rather defiantly at them. “They aren’t from anyone on the boat.”
“But how could anyone on shore know?” Bess already had her suspicions as to the person.
“And if he did,” Grace was very positive about the “He,” “How could He send them?”
“Come, Nan, spill it,” Laura was as curious as the rest. “Heroines can’t have secrets, you know. Their lives are public property.”
“That’s just what I am afraid of.” Nan nodded from her place among the pillows. “However, I couldn’t keep it to myself if I wanted to. They’re from Walter!”
“But how—” Bess just couldn’t wait.
“He sent them from shore when the boat was in dock and asked the steward to keep them until we were in mid-ocean. They brought them up here this morning and when I opened my eyes—there they were.” Nan’s eyes were shining and her cheeks were almost as red as the roses.