“Is it night?” demanded Henrietta, as Jessie clasped her with an energy that betrayed her relief. “Why, it wasn’t dark when I came down here.”
“How did you get down there?” demanded Darry from above.
“I rolled down. I guess I was tired. I dug so much sand——”
“Did you dig all those holes I found, Henrietta?” demanded the relieved Jessie.
“Why, no, Miss Jessie. I didn’t dig holes. I dug sand and let the holes be,” declared the freckle-faced little girl scornfully.
Darry sat down and laughed, but while he laughed Jessie toiled up the yielding sand hill with her hand clasping Henrietta’s. “Ow-ow!” yawned the child again. “When do we eat, Miss Jessie? Or is eating all over?”
“Listen to the kid!” ejaculated Darry. “Here! Give her to me. I’ll carry her. Want to go pickaback, Hen?”
“Well, it’s dark and nobody can see us. I don’t mind,” said Henrietta soberly. “But I guess I’m too big to be lugged around that way in common. ’Specially now that I own this island—or, most of it—and am going to have money of my own.”
“She’s harping on that idea too much,” observed Darry to Jessie, in a low tone.
The latter thought so too. Funny as little Henrietta was, the stressing of her expected fortune was going to do her no good. Jessie began to see that this fault had to be corrected.