“It looks as if heaven were leaking joy,” thought Nancy, as she watched the descending beauty.
Thinking of her mother, of Ted and of dear Manny, as she did every evening, this being a part of her filial love and devotion, Nancy gazed and wondered, until suddenly a step near her startled her from her reverie.
It was Orilla!
“Oh!” exclaimed Nancy. “I didn’t see you coming—”
“No, one can’t. I have so many secret little paths around here,” spoke Orilla, and Nancy noticed that her voice was very low, subdued, and her words rather well chosen.
“But I’m so glad you came,” Nancy hurried to add. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, all day.”
“I’ve been away, to the city, and I’m so tired!” With a sigh she sank down upon the lake-side bench. “I believe I would die if I had to live in a city,” she murmured.
“It is dreadfully stuffy after air like this,” agreed Nancy. “But you are not sick, are you, Orilla?” she asked anxiously, for Orilla did seem very unlike herself.
“No, I guess not. I have an awful headache but—don’t let us talk about sickness,” Orilla broke off suddenly. “I have something more important to talk of to-night.”
“First, Orilla,” interrupted Nancy, “won’t you please let me give you your little bag? It has worried me—”