Next day everything was in confusion, and excitement was too weak a word with which to describe the conditions that existed at Cragsnook. Reda had come to with all the strength characteristic of her sturdy race, and nothing but main force kept her from running away. She was frightened to death of the place, of the people around her, and nothing that Mary could say would assure her no harm could come to anyone who was within the hospitality of that generous home. And Reda had explained to Mary it was the jewels she had hidden for the child that had caused her most anxiety. She feared Janos would find them.
The advent of Katie Bergen, Michael's cousin, seemed nothing short of providential, and to her was at once entrusted the care of the obstreperous patient.
"I think, dear Mrs. Dunbar," said Mary rather timidly, "it would really be much better to take Reda back to the studio. Once there she will quiet down, and that may save her from higher fever."
"Perhaps you are right," Mrs. Dunbar agreed; "the doctor says she has been a very sick woman, and her collapse was only natural, considering what she went through. Has she told you why she was so eager to see you?"
"Partly," Mary replied. "You see, she was sort of conscious
[Transcriber's note: conscience?] stricken that something would happen
to me, and she felt obliged to warn me. And she also wanted to give me
Loved One's jewels."
"But nothing did happen," blurted out Madaline, keen on the trail of the mystery.
"Oh, do tell us, Mary," begged Grace. "It seems to me we will have so much to find out all at once it will be rather overwhelming if we don't start in."
"Well, you little scouts run along and enjoy your story," suggested Mrs. Dunbar, "and I will see about having Reda sent up to the mountain. I am sure, Mary, you are right. She may be saved a real relapse if we agree with her. And, of course, Katie is going to be your housekeeper. I would envy you if I hadn't such a treasure in Jennie. This is really her house, and I am a guest, it seems to me," and it was hoped by every little girl present that the delicious compliment floated out to Jennie, who was busy in the breakfast room just at that moment.
"Please let me tell you something first," begged Cleo, when the girls were left to themselves. "I am fairly bursting with the news. You know I wrote out the whole story to Uncle Guy. I wanted him to know all about it when he came home and also, ahem"—and the perky little head perked perceptibly—"I may as well admit, girls, I am ambitious to keep the family honors up in the writing line, so I just wrote all this glorious vacation to Uncle Guy, making it just like a summer story. I sent our pictures——"
"Mercy me, Cleo!" interrupted Grace, "I guess you will be a story writer. Just see how you have us all keyed up, and won't tell us what happened. What did your Uncle Guy say?" she demanded.