“If only my mother and her library friends could see it,” Nancy commented. “And where ever did you get these queer things? Just look at that East Indian water jug. Isn’t it one, Orilla?”
“Yes. I found most of them in a curio shop. I think they came from an old seaman’s collection,” and the girl on the pine-needle bed smiled. “But how lovely it is to have someone see them besides me!” Orilla sighed. “I had planned this so long and made such a secret of it, I just didn’t seem to know how to tell anyone about it. But I’m so glad—now!”
“So are we,” declared Rosa. “And I’ll tell you, Orilla. You and I had best never have any more secrets. Nancy would find them out, at any rate, so what’s the use?”
“We must go,” announced Dell. “Orilla, do you feel strong enough to walk down to the boat?”
“Oh, yes, I’m much better. I guess I just fretted myself ill, and when I thought no help would come I sort of collapsed.”
“Lean on me,” commanded Rosa grandly. “You’re going to live at our house now, so you will be my guest, sort of,” she said humorously.
“I can’t believe that,” demurred Orilla, and the puzzled look on her drawn face showed how surprised she really was.
Presently they were going toward the boat, Orilla leaning on Dell and Rosa, for she was quite weak and the rough path was not easy to traverse.
“You have fever,” Dell said gently. “If we had not found you, what would you have done?”
“Died perhaps,” Orilla answered, simply.