“Why—to help,” the Poor Thing answered, squeezing the hand that touched hers in the darkness.
The storm surely was lessening now. The lightning came at longer intervals and the thunder lagged farther and farther behind it. The rain still fell, but not so heavily, and the roar of the wind had died down to a sullen growl. In ten minutes the other three girls were sound asleep, but Olga lay long awake, her eyes searching the darkness, as her thoughts searched her own soul, finding there some things that greatly astonished her.
VI
A WATER CURE
There were some pale cheeks and heavy eyes the next morning, but no one had taken cold from the exposure of the night, and most of the girls were as fresh and full of life as ever. The camp, however, was strewn with leaves and broken branches, and one tree was uprooted. Mrs. Royall’s face was grave as she thought of what might have been, had that tree fallen across any of the tents. It was a heavy responsibility that she carried with these forty girls under her charge, and never had she felt it more deeply than now.
The baby bunny was evidently somebody’s stray pet, for it submitted to handling as if used to it, showed no desire to get away, and contentedly nibbled the lettuce leaves and carrots which the girls begged of Katie.
“He fairly purrs when I scratch his head,” Louise Johnson declared gaily. “Girls, we must keep him for the camp mascot.”
“Looks as if we should have to keep him unless a claimant appears,” Mary Hastings said. “I’ve almost stepped on him twice already. I don’t believe we could drive him away with a club.”