“If you’ll only keep it a few more days, Nancy—”
“But why? Shouldn’t your mother take care of it for you?” questioned Nancy. She had been determined to get rid of the treasure and this was her chance.
“Mother?” Orilla’s voice showed disapproval of that idea, most emphatically. “No, mother is good and has given me much freedom, but she doesn’t quite understand me, you see, Nancy,” finished the girl with one more of those weary, heavy sighs.
Before Nancy could speak again Orilla had risen and was leading the way to the other end of the spacious grounds.
“Come this way,” she said. “We won’t meet anybody and I must not delay too long.”
“Let me tell you alone, Nancy, please,” pleaded Orilla. “Then you may tell Rosa if you want to. I’m tired of secrets, tired of being hated and tired of fighting. Until you showed some friendliness for me, I haven’t ever remembered kindness except from mother, and, well, just a few others,” finished Orilla, evasively.
She was hurrying toward the rear of the big house and Nancy was following. The path she picked out was quite new to Nancy, who thought she had discovered every little nook and corner of the big summer place, but this was a mere strip of clearance, tunneled in under heavy wild grape vines that grew clamorously over high and low shrubbery, and even climbed into the biggest wild cherry tree.
Neither girl spoke for some minutes. Then Orilla asked Nancy if she liked Fernlode.
“Why, yes,” Nancy replied, “I love it.”