“Wait, I should advise,” replied Mrs. Hadley, “until she refers to it herself. Then draw her out very carefully.”
Fortunately, Marjorie did not have to wait long for her opportunity. Early the next morning, when she carried Olive’s tray up to her, the girl herself opened the conversation.
“Tell me about Daisy,” she said, as she unfolded her napkin. “What has she been doing all summer?”
“She was with our patrol of scouts on the ranch this summer,” replied Marjorie. “But she was so worried about you; for none of the family knew where you were.” She hesitated a moment, as if she did not wish to be too abrupt. “Won’t you please, Olive, tell me what you can remember about the last five months?”
“Well,” answered the girl, slowly, “I got into a temper with somebody—” she thought hard for a minute—“a man—I guess it was dad—and flew out of the house. My head was aching terribly—but I walked—and walked. I—I spent a night on the ground—my, but it was cold and damp—and the next thing I knew I wakened up—in a ward—in a hospital—and the nurse told me I was getting better. They asked me my name, and I said Dorothy Snyder—I don’t know why—and they looked as if they didn’t believe me—because I didn’t believe it myself, I guess. So, as soon as I was well enough, I ran away. I found I had been in Cape May. I wandered down to the ocean, and sat down in a pavilion. But I felt very weak and ill; I guess I cried. Then Mrs. Hadley found me, and you know the rest.”
“But this man you quarreled with—you think it was your father—didn’t you love him very much?”
Again Olive thought hard.
“Yes, I did.... No, it wasn’t dad.... He was young, and handsome. Could I—could I have been engaged?”
“Or married?” suggested Marjorie, fearfully, in a whisper.
“Tommy!” cried Olive, triumphantly. “Tommy! My husband!” She seized Marjorie’s hand in her ecstasy. “Oh, I’m so happy—so thankful to you!”