“What’s the matter, Hen? You don’t feel sick, do you?”
“I hear something,” declared Henrietta, her freckled face clouding. “I hear somebody talk that I don’t like.”
“Who is that?” asked Nell.
“She makes me feel sick, all right,” grumbled the little girl. “Oh, yes! It’s her. And if she says again that she owns my island, I’ll—I’ll——”
“Belle Ringold!” exclaimed Amy, much amused. “Can’t we go anywhere without Belle and Sally showing up?”
The two girls whom they all considered so unpleasant appeared at the top of the small hill and came down the path. They were rather absurdly dressed for an outing. Certainly their frocks would have looked better at dinner or at a dance than in the woods. And they strutted along as though they quite well knew they had on their very best furbelows.
“Oh, dear me! there’s that awful child again,” drawled Belle, before she saw the older girls sitting at the spring.
“She must be lost away up here,” said Sally Moon, idly. “Say, kid, run get this folding cup filled at the spring.”
“What for?” demanded Henrietta.
“Why, so I can drink from it, foolish!”