But it was not so easy to suppress Gar. He wasn’t afraid of Orilla Rigney, and he was willing to let folks know it.
“Now, that’s enough,” he decided sharply. “We’re not going to take another stick. If you want to chop down trees, Orilla, why don’t you hire help? Or why don’t you choose a woods nearer civilization?”
“What are you grumbling about?” retorted Orilla, letting drop more than one of the sticks she had just picked up. “I didn’t ask your help, and I don’t want it—”
“But there’s a storm coming, Orilla,” said Nancy very kindly, as kindly as she might have spoken to some troublesome child, “and we had better all hurry back. There now, it’s all cleared up. Here, give me that long one. I haven’t an armful this time.”
So for the moment peace was restored, and the queer proceedings continued, until at last even Orilla seemed satisfied that the task had been properly finished.
Only to Nancy did she deign a pleasant look, and that look, Nancy thought, was rather secretive. For as the girl did half smile, she also winked one of her green, gimlet eyes, as if trying to convey to Nancy a message not meant for the others. This recalled the party cape episode, when Nancy compromised by agreeing, at least partly, not to mention Orilla’s secret visit.
“But we found you, Rosa, at any rate,” Nancy repeated, as again they paired off. “I’ll never be able to tell you how I felt,” she continued, giving the truant cousin a reassuring pinch.
Rosa rolled her eyes meaningly. “If you hadn’t—” She left that contingency to Nancy’s over-worked imagination, and again turned to help Orilla.
“Don’t bother; just go along,” ordered Orilla rudely.
“But aren’t you going too?” Rosa questioned in surprise.