“Why—” started Nancy once more, but checked the query before it was formed. Of what use to question Rosa now? The thing to do was to hope for Orilla’s return. But even that worried Nancy.
“Oh, Nance,” groaned Rosa, “if my poor leg is broken—”
“It isn’t, dear, I’m sure,” consoled Nancy. “You know a strain feels dreadfully at first. Are you sure she’ll come back?”
“Oh, yes. She sounds mean, but that’s her way,” Rosa explained. “Can’t you see her light? Isn’t she coming yet?”
“No,” replied Nancy. “And Rosa, I feel I’ll just have to go back to the pavilion for Dell. What will they think?”
“Think we’re lost, maybe.” Rosa was tugging at the briars and uttering groans at every attempt to free herself. Nancy had torn the skin from her right hand in her attempts to help, but was still working carefully.
“How far is the road?” Nancy asked presently.
“Just there, behind that little hill. You can’t see it, of course—”
“Will you stay while I look for Dell?”
“I’ll have to. But oh, Nance,” as her cousin prepared to go, “you know I don’t want them to see me meeting Orilla. They just wouldn’t understand. Every one hates her so and she’s so bitter about it. Look again. Isn’t she coming?”