Funny—”
He stopped. Two girls were sitting bolt upright upon the Balcony ledge, one staring blankly with blue eyes—the other fearfully with black.
“Where’s—Una?” said the Guardian, ten minutes later. “She ought not to go off like that, alone.”
Under cover of the general clearing up, one girl was missing.
“She has never had the chance before,” said Pemrose. “In camp, we hunt in couples,” gayly. “But she’s off after harebells, I suppose. Some of the loveliest—loveliest bluebells you ever saw growing just on the edge of the precipice—a wing of the precipice, over there near the wood! Shall I go and look for her?”
“I’ll go, too,” said young Treff, as the Guardian nodded.
“Oh! do let us stop, for a minute, to look at the view.” He caught at Pemrose’s hand, presently, to steady her upon the shelving rock. “Una’s all right! There she is!”
“The Guardian is going after her, too,” murmured the girl. “She wouldn’t be the one to help ‘wheel Una through life’— but she feels her a handful on her heart, just the same.”
“No wonder, as Uncle Dwight, Una’s Dad, has fitted up that jolly camp for you. Done it in such high-powered style, too—radio, horses, everything! But the view!” The young aviator caught his breath. “Fine—fine as from that Lenox Pinnacle, where I pulled you up out of the Devil’s Chair!”
“And cut me afterwards—Jack at a pinch!” dimpling mischievously. “But the Pinnacle—the Pinnacle was nothing to this,” breathed Pemrose. “Three—three tiers of mountains, rising one behind the other! Oh-h! they look like three orders of angels; don’t they?”