"And what is your name, really?" ventured Madaline.
"You may think it very strange, but I am not sure. Daddy used a book name, out on his exploration trips, and mother's family name was never mentioned. Grandie had my papers but you see"—and she hesitated quite a long time, then in a subdued voice she continued—"you see Grandie became ill, and he forgot. That is one reason why I am so happy his memory is returning."
"Oh, wouldn't it be lovely if you turned out to be a great lady!"
Madaline rhapsodized, true to form in a girl's love of excitement.
"I wouldn't want to be a great lady!" replied Mary, tossing back her head disdainfully. "I would rather just be a little girl scout like you!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah! for our new Tenderfoot. Let's put her through an initiation, girls!" suggested Cleo. "Mary, don't forget where you left off, and we'll take a recess. Come on. First you must slide down that pole. Look out for Michael; he has a pail of water he might like to see you slide into."
Romping and racketing took the place of serious reminiscences for the time, and if Mary felt inclined to be sorrowful at her revived memories the True Treds quickly vanquished the gloom foe, until tiring of the very vigorous exercise, they settled down again for a last word before closing the meeting.
"Was Reda with you all the time?" Cleo asked Mary when they were finally quieted to rational speech. Somehow Cleo seemed to sense a solution to the mystery Mary was so cautiously unfolding.
"She left the island with us. We must have been very near the equator off of Central America, and when the fever broke out all the English left. We came on a very miserable ship, but we were very glad to escape."
"And those men Reda knows," went on Cleo, like a little inquisitor, "did you meet them on the ship?"
"I don't really know, but I have heard Grandie declare to Reda that they followed us. I blame them for most of our trouble, of course."