“No, not that way,” replied Nancy. “What’s the use of making worries? If you had a brother like our Ted—”
“Or a sister like Ted has,” put in Rosa good-humoredly. “I know you hate silly stuff, Nancy. You wouldn’t let me say that you’ve done me a lot of good already; but you have.”
“How? Why, Rosa, we hardly know each other, and I really couldn’t do you good, for I’m rather—rather queer, you know. I just couldn’t—” Nancy stumbled and paused.
“Pretend,” finished Rosa. “That’s it, Nancy, you’re just being queer, is the reason. There’s a name for it but don’t let’s bother about that. Shall we row out?”
“I love to row,” declared Nancy again, taking her place at the oars.
“And I hate to,” admitted Rosa, settling back in the cushions.
“Rowing ought to be good for you,” suggested Nancy. “Isn’t it queer how we skinnies always do the things that make us thinner?”
“And we fatties—” But Rosa’s remark was cut short by a call; it seemed to come from the island.
“What’s that!” both girls exclaimed.
They listened.