“Was there a little boy visiting the Mantons the other day?” ventured Betta. She was almost consumed with curiosity, and as they turned their backs on the cottage the chance for unravelling the prince mystery seemed lost to them.
“A boy? No,” replied Nora. “I am the only one who has been here.” A flame of color swept her face and although she stooped to pick up an acorn at the moment, at least two of the Scouts noticed the flush.
“Light curls,” whispered Wyn. “She has very pretty ringlets——”
“Lots of girls have, of course,” scoffed Betta. “You surely don’t think she’s twins?”
“No,” faltered the other, never dreaming how much closer than twins Nora was to the little prince.
But Wyn was not easily satisfied. What was the sense of being appointed a committee to investigate and not do it? She picked a wonderful spray of pink clover before she asked Nora again:
“Do you ever see a little boy, a very fancy dressed boy, around the cottage? One of our girls dreamed she saw one and we have been trying to persuade her she had a vision.”
A sigh of relief escaped Nora’s lips. It should be easy to laugh the story over, since only one girl had seen her and that one had but a glimpse of her. She felt she would die of embarrassment now, if ever she were really found out. And only a few days ago it had seemed so trifling a thing! As she was about to reply to Wyn her hat fell off and down tumbled the curls.
“What wonderful curls,” exclaimed Wyn innocently. “Why do you hide them under a hat?”
“Oh, I don’t,” replied Nora bravely, shaking out the golden cloud that tossed about her ears. “But when we go into brambles it is more comfortable to have one’s head tidy,” she finished.