Had she been that Nora once so filled with foolish fancies that life, brief as it had been to her, seemed too full of nonsense to admit of real joys with girl companions, and any number of adventures?
“A real vacation indeed,” concluded the girl in khaki, holding close Lucia’s flowers and Alma’s letter. She was sorely tempted to peek into the latter, but that would spoil the delicious secret reading, which to be complete would have to be made in solitude.
It had been days since she went out “on location” with the cousins—Jerry always called surveying “doing location,” as the moving picture folks termed their work, but so many other things claimed her attention it seemed difficult to get them all in. Cousin Ted was very busy herself, but had managed to write Nora’s mother. A glowing account of the Scout interests was surely given in that letter, and Jerry was disappointed when Ted refused to ask permission for Nora to stay during the winter. To this, woman-like, Mrs. Jerry Manton had not agreed, because to go to school in the wilderness is always more picturesque than practical.
But Nora had endeared herself to those generous hearts, and even the thought of that real mother with an unreal name did not thrill her as did the knowledge that she had “made good” with these devoted friends.
Home now—that is to the Nest, Nora rushed up to her room to devour Alma’s letter. She ignored Vita’s appeal to come see the wonderful flowers sent from some one for Mrs. Manton. She must read the letter before going down to dinner.
In the biggest chair by the open window beyond locked doors she unfolded the precious page.
“She writes a pretty hand,” was the first comment. Then she read:
“‘Camp Chickadee.
“‘My dear Prince:
“‘How wonderful to get a letter from you! As you have guessed I did think of you ever since. Please tell me who you are and where you live? We Scouts would love to know you and perhaps we can tell you some interesting things about America, if, as I surmise, you are a visitor here.’”