“No, Lucia. I’ll never tell. I have a lot of secrets, and this one I won’t even tell Alma.”
“Good bye.”
Like a frightened animal the waif sped across the field and dodged into the next clump of shrubbery.
“She is afraid of being seen,” reasoned Nora. “Who ever saw such a pitiful little thing?”
Then it dawned upon her that Cap had not even sniffed suspiciously.
“Did you like her, Cap?” she asked, patting the patient animal, that all during the broken conversation had lain at Nora’s feet without so much as a single growl. “Did you feel sorry for her, too, Cap?”
He may have or there may have been some other reason for his indifference, but now he was willing and anxious to go home. It was lunch time and Cap never needed an announcement.
Nora followed him. She was too astonished to know even what to think. That a little beggar girl should hide in the bushes to rest from hard work!
“I’ll bring her the nicest things Vita can bake,” she concluded. Then came the thought: How would she get Vita to give her the supplies without making known the use she was to put them to?
Picnics were common. These would surely supply an excuse for carrying out food, and, after all, wouldn’t it be a picnic for Lucia?