“Nearly nine,” replied Rosa. “What do you suppose happened to Orilla?”
“Nothing. Nothing could happen to her. I often tell her mother I don’t see what’s going to become of that girl. Shall I get in the front? I don’t want to spill them blueberries. There’s hardly any ripe yet, but Miss Sandford has been pestering me for some. There, now I’m all right. Want me to row? It’s such a mercy you came. No boats came past the island—hardly any, and I’m hoarse from shoutin’. Here, young lady, give me them oars. You’re tuckered out,” and still talking Mrs. Pixley took Nancy’s place, not against Nancy’s will, either.
“But Orilla,” Rosa said again. “I haven’t seen Cowan’s launch out this afternoon. And she always comes by our dock when she has that out.”
“Don’t you bother with that girl, Rosalind,” cautioned Mrs. Pixley. “She’s flighty. Never no telling what she’s going to do next—”
“But she’s awfully smart,” interrupted Rosa.
“In some ways, but that don’t make her wise.” Mrs. Pixley was an expert at the oars as well as being a fluent talker. Nancy watched and listened, with admiration and with interest.
“I’ll go in at your place, Rosalind,” continued the woman, “and get a ride down the road. Lots of cars running down the hill at this time of night. And if you see Orilla Rigney you can tell her for me, she’ll not get another drop of milk at my place. To play me such a trick!” Mrs. Pixley’s indignation almost interfered with her talking, but not quite.
“Just imagine you knowing Mrs. Pixley, Nancy,” Rosalind managed to remark as they pulled in.
“Yes, just imagine!” repeated the woman before Nancy could speak. “Well, if you ever saw that grape juice fly, Rosalind, you’d understand how well I got acquainted on that car!”
“How funny!” persisted Rosa. “Did it hurt anyone?”