“Oh, I’m all right,” replied the girl, who as usual wore the dingy suit of khaki, and a boy’s soft hat upon her thick red hair. “I’m glad I met you here. I want to ask a favor of you.”
“All right, Orilla,” said Nancy sincerely, “I shall be glad to help you if I can.”
“I believe you. You’re different. Maybe it’s because you’re poor—”
Nancy smiled broadly at this, but Orilla did not appear to notice it. She motioned to a rustic seat and they both sat down. Nancy was curious and a little anxious, for Orilla, while assuming friendship, still had that queer, furtive look in her eyes, and her face was surely unnaturally flushed.
“Have you been working too hard, Orilla?” Nancy asked kindly. “You aren’t strong and you shouldn’t—”
“I’m strong as an ox,” interrupted the girl. “That’s because I live out doors. I was sick once, and since I cured myself no one has interfered with my ways.”
This, thought Nancy, must be why Orilla’s mother allowed her to do as she pleased. But even so, she surely might have saved her daughter from wood chopping!
“Yes, I only go indoors at night—I steal in. No one knows where I go,” this meant much to Orilla, evidently. “But you’re my friend and we both have a secret, so that’s what I want to tell you.”
Nancy was so surprised she merely listened, not venturing to interrupt with a single word. Orilla kept locking and unlocking her fingers in a nervous way, and she fidgeted in her seat even more nervously.
As if the secret so long waited for was about to burst over Nancy’s head, like a cloud before a storm, she waited.