“Come with me, Marta. We’ll have to go to a certain vine-clad pergola by devious routes to avoid three wise children and one suspicious and formidable foreman.”
By much circumambulation the two girls reached the pergola unseen.
“You sit here for a few moments, Marta, and the person to whom you are to give the note will come to you.”
Pen walked on to the barracks where she met Jo.
“Will you do something for me, Jo? Right away, quick?”
“Sure thing, Miss Penny Ante. What did his nibs want?”
“Never mind, now. Go to the pergola and receive a note from me. Now don’t be stupid. Do as you are told,—like a good soldier does.”
With a laugh Jo started in swinging gait for the place indicated, but he was halted several times by some of the men who wanted directions for their work.
After waiting patiently, Marta concluded Pen’s plans had miscarried, so she started for the house, but becoming confused as to turns, she went toward the barracks.
To a little girl whose life had been spent in slums and reformatories, the big spaces and silences were more appalling than the wildest hours of traffic on misguided State Street. She had a strange inclination to walk down hill backward that she might not see what other ascension must be made.