The girls were no longer laughing. “You don’t think anything could have happened to Myra, Mrs. Royall?” one of them questioned anxiously. “Almost all of us have walked over there. I went alone and so did Mary.”
“I know, but Myra is such a timid little thing. She cannot do what most of you can.”
Edith Rue came running back with her bugle, and in a moment the notes of the recall floated out on the still summer air. It was a rigid rule of the camp that the recall should be promptly answered by any girl within hearing, so when, in the silence that followed, no response was heard, Mrs. Royall sent the two girls for the horse and buggy.
“Have them here as quickly as possible,” she called after them.
Before the messengers were out of sight, however, there was an outcry behind them.
“Why, there she is! There’s Myra now!” and every face turned towards the small figure coming from the clump of evergreens, her eyes still half-dazed with sleep.
With an exclamation of relief, Mrs. Royall hurried to meet her.
“Where were you, child? Didn’t you hear us calling you?” she asked.
“I—I—no. I heard the recall, and I came—I guess I was asleep,” stammered Myra bewildered by something tense in the atmosphere, and the eyes all centred on her.
“Asleep!” echoed Louise Johnson with a chuckle. “What did I tell you, girls?”