“Gar!” came Rosa’s warning. “Please don’t tell all my secrets at once. I’m sorry if I bother you—”
“Oh, now Rose, you know well enough I don’t mean that,” interrupted Gar. “It’s just that you’re so—so easy with Orilla, and she’s a fox, only you won’t believe it,” declared the boy, flushing.
An awkward silence followed that remark. It was very plain that Rosa objected to discussing Orilla and her ways before Nancy. It was also quite plain that the boy was trying to avoid something, perhaps a clandestined ride which Rosa seemed bent upon. He didn’t settle himself down as one does who might expect to stay awhile; in fact, he first sat upon the porch rail, next straddled a bench, then flung himself into a rocker and seemed to find it impossible to obtain any position suitable to his turbulent mood.
“It’s certainly early enough now to take a drive,” Suggested Rosa, pointedly.
“Oh, surely,” agreed Gar. “Can’t I take you and your cousin over to the Point, or some place?”
“Like a dear,” replied Rosa. “I’ll run and break the news to Margot. She still believes in you, Gar,” and then Nancy found herself chatting to the boy, free from the unpleasant little discussion and at ease, because he seemed so frankly boyish and so eager to take her for the proposed drive.
“Don’t mind my scrapping with Rose,” he remarked. “She’s such a kid and so easily influenced. And you see, Mr. Fernell trusts our folks to sort of keep track of her.”
“Of course. That’s splendid,” agreed Nancy. “You see I’m sort of a stranger myself, and I guess Rosalind has been a lot alone—”
“You’re the very thing for her, and maybe just in time,” he said under his breath, with an intention by no means clear to Nancy.
“Just in time!” she thought. “Whatever can that mean?”