Gradually the peace of the place communicated itself to them and Mollie’s scare disappeared into the background of their contentment.
“I wonder,” said Grace, after a dreamy interval when she had watched the water of the brook splashing merrily over the stones in its path, “what became of that little old woman who did so much embroidery for the Woman’s Exchange? I wonder if she’s all alone somewhere, sick, maybe, or too old and feeble to work any more.”
“I hope she’s not,” replied Mollie, adding with a laugh: “It would be much pleasanter to think that perhaps she has come into a fortune, or something, and so doesn’t have to work for a living any more.”
“Well,” sighed Grace, “as long as we’re not apt ever to hear of the old soul again, we might as well take the cheery view. Have some more fudge?”
“Is this all you have?” asked Mollie, looking anxiously at the fast dwindling supply. “My, I never tasted such delicious candy in my life.”
“I would have bought another box if you girls hadn’t been in such an awful hurry. Now you see what you get.”
“Well,” said Mollie, philosophically, “give me another piece, anyway. We might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”
After a while they thought it might be a good idea to wander around a bit and see just what kind of country surrounded their camp.
“We need the hike, too,” Mollie added. “I shouldn’t wonder if we’d be sick, eating all that fudge.”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” said Grace, and hurried back toward the camp, leaving Mollie to stand looking after her in surprise.