“I must have injured my neck or shoulder blade when I dove under the machine,” she replied. “Something—is very stiff.”
“Let us get up to the bungalow,” suggested Cora, for the strange girl seemed like one dazed. “Your mother is there, and I hope by this time she has revived.”
Even in their discomfiture our friends could not help noticing what a pretty and pleasant mannered girl the stranger was. Every little nicety of good breeding was perfectly evident in her gentle gratitude to her rescuers, and in her earnest solicitation for her mother.
Ed led the way to the camp, while the girls followed. Belle met them at the door.
“How is she?” asked Cora, knowing how anxious was the girl about her invalid mother.
“She is quite revived,” replied Belle, “but she wants her daughter. I am so glad you have come,” hurried on Belle, without waiting for any formality. “She seems greatly worried about—Beatrice.”
“Oh, let me see her,” exclaimed the girl. “Dear, little, darling mamma,” and before the others could show the way Beatrice (for such was her name) had the crippled form clasped lovingly in her arms.
What a strange sight in the musty little bungalow! Belle was the only person who was not dripping wet—and the girls were so far from Clover Cottage, and from an auto to take them there, that there was a prospect they might dry out before fresh garments could be secured.
Beatrice looked up from the face of the trembling woman. “I wonder if we can—use the car?” she ventured. “I must get mother back to the hotel.”
“If we can get the machine out and the magneto is not short circuited from the water,” said Jack, “I don’t see why you couldn’t run it.”