What if Orilla had lain in wait for Rosa and enticed her to go away or something? What if Orilla had demanded money from Rosa? Would Orilla steal? That house had been the girl’s home and it was not strange that she should sometimes want to visit it, came a more reasonable suggestion. And surely she would not steal, was the answer to that question.
But Nancy could not feign slumber, for her mind was too active to forget that the light patch above her was the ceiling, and not a bird’s downy wing, bringing sleep, as the poets warrant.
Where was her mother now? So far across the sea that even the time there was not the same as that which ticked away patiently on Nancy’s dresser. But her mother would surely enjoy the visit to those famous shrines of knowledge, for Nancy’s mother loved to learn.
That darling mother! So pretty, so sweet, so kind and always so helpful! A deep, audible sigh escaped the girl on the bed as she indulged in this deliberation. Her mother had always been so like a girl chum, so companionable and such a refuge in trouble.
“But I shouldn’t lean on her,” came the accusing thought. “If I cannot rely upon myself, then mother’s teaching would not have been well learned.”
Following that came the thoughts of industrious little Miss Manners—Manny to Nancy and Ted. Then all the girl friends, who this summer seemed so far away, paraded before Nancy’s fancy, as they had so often done in reality.
A slammed door rudely broke up the soliloquy.
“Rosa!” exclaimed Nancy gladly, although Rosa was not yet in sight. “I’m so glad she’s home safe!”
The relief was so great that Nancy promptly turned over and feigned sleep. She really couldn’t talk to Rosa to-night, and she was sure her cousin would be just bubbling over with the evening’s news.
A step in the hall, a halting at the door and then the whispered call: