“Yes, she agreed I could,” replied Nancy.
“Then that’s good enough for me,” decided Rosa. “Now you sit pretty and listen, but don’t faint. The reason I tried so desperately hard to find her to-day was because I had a message from Boston for her. Her fresh air kids are arriving to-morrow,” said Rosa facetiously, drawing a funny face.
“Fresh air—children!” corrected Nancy. “What does that mean?”
“It means that the wily Orilla has made arrangements to entertain some poor children and their caretaker at a camp that she hasn’t got. She thought she would have it—I suppose that was what I was chopping down trees for—but the camp doesn’t seem to have developed. And those children leave Boston early in the morning!”
“Do you mean that Orilla agreed to take children at a camp out here and now they are coming—”
“Exactly. And the camp isn’t. That’s the little fix I’m in.”
“You’re in?”
“Yep. I got her mail and it came here in my name. It didn’t seem much to do for her, but I’d like to know how I’m going to forestall those children, who will leave their humble homes with their breakfasts in shoe boxes to-morrow morning.”
Rosa’s mood was happy and her expressions flippant, but for all that Nancy knew she intended no disrespect to the strange children.
“You mean they expect to come to Fernlode?” Nancy queried, puzzled anew.