“We’ll have her around all right presently,” she said calmly to Trixy. “Keep the girls back, Norma, we’ll go straight up.”
Within the house they laid Jack down, very flat, upon the floor, and again the girls were banished, although the procession from the lakeside was loathe to disband.
Little Miss Taylor was too frightened to do more than approve of the efficiency shown by Trixy and Mary, and even the cynical Jean Engle looked on in unstinted admiration.
An hour later Jack lay on her own bed, blinking painfully.
“Wasn’t I the goose——” she mumbled.
“No, indeed,” replied Mary. “You were uncannily wise. If you hadn’t slipped down, like a tired bird, into the safety of that nest when you felt the dizziness coming, you most certainly would have slipped overboard. But there’s nothing to worry about now, you will be as fine as ever in a day or two.”
“Mary,” she whispered, “could I just speak to Gloria? I won’t talk—long.”
“Wouldn’t I do?” Mary’s voice was plaintive. She seemed so eager for the sick girl’s confidence.
“If you don’t mind, Mary, I want Gloria—to do something for me. She’s so——”
“Oh, all right, I know. Of course,” agreed Mary. “But Miss Taylor insists upon quiet until you have been looked over by the doctor.”