"And you never forget—never!"
"No. Your eyes may be blinded for a moment, but you do not forget—ever!"
They were out on the gemlike lake now, and Priscilla was sternly instructing Margaret how to handle an oar.
"It will never go the way you want it to," Margaret protested, making an ineffectual dab at the water.
"When it does you will know the bliss! Get a little below the surface, and have faith in yourself."
And that was the day that Priscilla caught a new light on Margaret's character. They landed at a tiny village across the lake and wandered about, Margaret talking easily to the people in their own tongue, Priscilla straining to follow by watching faces and gestures. While they stood so, discussing the price of some corals, a little child came close to them and slipped a deliciously dimpled, but very dirty little hand in Margaret's. At the touch the girl started, turned first crimson and then pale, and looked down. Suddenly her eyes deepened and glowed.
"The darling!" she whispered, and bent to catch what the child was saying. Presently she looked up, tears dimming her eyes, and said to Priscilla, "She says a new baby came to their house last night. She wanted to tell—me!"
"And ten already have been there," broke in a brown-faced native woman.
"But she is glad, and she wanted me to know! Come, my sweet, tell me more about the baby, and then we will go and see it."
They sat down under a clump of trees, and the dirty little maid nestled close to Margaret, while with uplifted head and unabashed confidence she told of the mystery.