When Marjorie went to her room, she asked the other girl to go with her. Dorothy was only too thankful to accept the invitation.
At first Marjorie talked of the seashore, the ranch, and the Girl Scouts, tactfully leading up to the mention of the name of the girl whom she hoped to be Dorothy’s sister.
“I just graduated from Miss Allen’s this summer, and I was so tired,” she explained. “By the way, that reminds me—did you ever know a girl named Daisy Gravers?”
Marjorie pretended to say this casually, as she unfastened the strap of her pump, but really her hand was trembling so that she could hardly accomplish it. To her joy, Dorothy jumped suddenly to her feet, and, glancing up, Marjorie saw that her face was deathly white.
“Daisy Gravers—my sister!” she gasped. “And I’m Olive!”
Overcome by the realization, she sank to the floor in a dead faint.
Overjoyed as Marjorie was at the discovery, she was terrified at the effect on Olive. Suppose she became sick again, and lost her memory after this brief moment of recollection? She shuddered at the idea; such a thing would be ghastly! But at least it would be something to have found her. Then, suddenly, Marjorie pulled herself together; there was no time now for the indulgence of such feelings. She must act, and act quickly.
Summoning Mrs. Hadley to her aid, she succeeded in getting Olive in bed. Then, while the older woman called a doctor, Marjorie sat at the bedside, watching her patient gradually regain consciousness. When at last she opened her eyes, she smiled faintly at Marjorie, but she made no attempt to talk.
After the doctor had gone, and the patient had slipped into a peaceful sleep, Marjorie told Mrs. Hadley the whole story.
“And now,” she concluded, “it will remain to be seen whether she retains her memory, and pieces together her former life. What do you think would be the best course for us?”