“Now, Zada, you are just nervous, and I know perfectly well it is that old matter that you wanted to tell me of some time ago. Whatever it is I do not want you to distress yourself about it. It is all past and gone, I am sure.”
“No,” sobbed Zada, “it will never be passed while it is on my mind. It is like a terrible nightmare, and it just haunts me.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“There now, if you go on so you will have a nervous breakdown,” cautioned Dorothy. “I am sure you are over-rating it.” Dorothy took the little, trembling hand in hers. “If you had my troubles,” she suggested, and paused.
“Your troubles must be honorable,” replied the other, between her sobs, and the thought of that word “arrest” gave Dorothy a start. “But,” continued Zada, “mother always told me one can stand anything better than—disgrace.”
“Disgrace!” exclaimed Dorothy. “Why do you speak that way? You could do nothing to disgrace yourself!”
“I shouldn’t, but I did. But I didn’t know it was so wrong!”
“There, that entirely alters the case. It could not have been so wrong, if you did not think so,” declared Dorothy.
Two of the girls on the path, hearing even the whispering voices, at that moment stood before the entrance to the little summer house. They were Dick and Ned.
“Land sakes!” exclaimed Dick, “are you two thinking of jumping into the lake? Did one ever see such faces!”
Zada turned her head to avoid their eyes. Dorothy did not know what to answer.