“Go on—it always helps to tell someone else. Who knows but what I may help you. Is it a real worry, Freda?”
“So real that sometimes I am afraid to think about it!”
There was no mistaking the girl’s fear. She looked over her shoulder as though she expected to see some unpleasant object, or person.
“Suppose you begin at the beginning,” suggested Cora, with a smile. “Then I’ll know what we are talking of.”
“I don’t know what the beginning was,” said Freda slowly, “but I can almost see the—ending,” and she seemed to shiver. “But where are you going, Cora, you and your friends?” she asked. “I must not be selfish and talk only about myself.”
“We are going to Crystal Bay.”
“Crystal Bay! How odd, just where mother is, and where I am going. Then I shall see you often.”
“I hope so,” murmured Cora. “We have a cute little bungalow, and the boys—my brother and his chums—will use a tent. But I want to hear more about your trouble. Really, Freda, you do look quite ill.”
“Perhaps that is partly because I have been traveling all night. It is always so wearying. But my chief cause of anxiety is for mother. She is really on the verge of a breakdown, the doctor says. Oh, if anything happens to her——”
“Don’t think of it,” urged Cora. “Perhaps it will help you if you tell me some particulars.”