“It must have been awful!” said Marjorie, with feeling. “I was scared to death myself.”
They carried her to the matron of the infirmary who promised to get her dry clothes and give her something hot to drink. Jack volunteered to get the machine and take the news to the cabin, while Marjorie went in search of her parents.
While Ruth was dressing, she reviewed the whole situation in her mind. The experience had been ghastly—if dying was like that, she shuddered at the prospect. And yet, she realized that one thing only had made it terrible: in that short space of time, when she had seemed on the verge of eternity, she thought only of her dishonest act toward Marjorie. Everything else faded from her consciousness; that alone assumed gigantic proportions: it seemed black, and terrifying. Even at this moment, when safety was assured, she almost cried out at the terror of her memory. “I will confess it all,” she exclaimed, “before I am a day older!”
In a few moments Marjorie joined her, and invited her to go with the family to the hotel for dinner.
“I will if you promise I can have a few minutes alone with you afterwards, Marjorie,” she said. “I’ve got something I must confess!”
Marjorie smiled, thinking of the crocheting. “All right, Ruth, if you like. But come now.”
When they were all seated in the machine, Ruth thanked both of her rescuers profusely. “It certainly was brave of you,” she said.
“Brave of Marj—but not me,” protested Jack. “I was scared to death for fear something would happen to you, after I played that awful trick on you last night!”
“What trick?”