“Poor girl! Out all alone–all night–on the ocean on that raft,” remarked Cora.
“I should have died!” sighed Belle.
“Oh, human nature can stand more than we think,” spoke the doctor. “Well, I must be going. I don’t know how I am to get around without my car.”
“Use mine!” offered Jack, quickly. “I shan’t need it. The old Get There needs running to keep her in good humor.”
“Very well, I will, and thank you.”
Dr. Brown looked in on his patient.
“She is sleeping,” he said.
“That is good,” murmured Cora. “But, oh! I do wish we could hear her story.”
“The fellows are anxious, too,” said Jack, he being alone allowed in his sister’s bungalow at this time.
There was a period of anxious waiting by Cora and her friends. Rosalie had gone back to the lighthouse to see if there was a duplicate list of the passengers on the wrecked schooner. She had come back to report that her father had none, and did not know where one could be obtained. The few members of the ship’s company remaining in the village could throw no light on the waif of the sea who had been so strangely picked up. Undoubtedly she was the girl supposed to have been washed overboard.