The girls looked after her and then at each other.
“Believe she’ll really do it?” one questioned doubtfully.
“Not she. Maybe she’ll get as far as the village,” replied another.
“She’d never dare pass Slabtown alone—never in the world,” a third declared with decision.
“Poor Myra, I’m sorry for her. It must be awful to be scared at everything as she is!” This from Mary Hastings, a big blonde who did not know what fear was.
“Bunny certainly is the scariest girl in this camp,” laughed Louise Johnson carelessly. “She’s afraid of her own shadow.”
“Then she ought to have more credit than the rest of us when she does do a brave thing,” put in little Bess Carroll in her gentle way.
“We’ll give her credit all right if she goes to Kent’s Corners,” retorted Louise.
Just then another girl ran up to the group and announced that a blueberry picnic had been arranged. Somebody had discovered a pasture where the bushes were loaded with luscious fruit. They would carry lunch, and bring back enough for a regular blueberry festival.
“All who want to go, get baskets or pails and come on,” the girl ended.