“How queer!” she was thinking. “And most of this was Rosa’s. But Rosa gave it to her, so it really is Orilla’s now. Imagine my being her—cashier!” and a little laugh escaped from Nancy’s lips.
The gentle splash of a canoe paddle told of Orilla’s departure, and Nancy checked her thoughts to listen.
“She is certainly the oddest girl I have ever met,” she reflected. “But I had no idea of becoming a chum of hers. What would Rosa say if she knew?”
This was not a pleasant consideration, but somehow Nancy knew she could serve even Rosa best by agreeing, partly, with Orilla, so her misgivings were presently quieted.
Having the bag of money was certainly a tangible link between her and Orilla, and already Nancy understood its significance.
“I’d love to tell Rosa,” she pondered, “but if I did Orilla would not trust me further, and I know I must keep her confidence, for a while at least. Just now Rosa is getting along so splendidly,” she told herself, “and she’s so relieved from her worries, that it surely must be best to keep her out of Orilla’s affairs.”
The little brown bag assumed almost a live form as Nancy clutched it. How long had Orilla been saving all that money? Some of it was in bills—that was easily felt through the cloth—and much of it was in coin; the weight vouched for that.
However, it was all in Nancy’s keeping now, and she tucked it under her scarf as she entered the house. Meeting Rosa in the hall, Nancy then accepted the plan for an evening at Durand’s.
“Anything easy for to-night,” she replied to Rosa’s suggestion. “I don’t feel a bit like thinking—hard.”