“Way, way off,” she said. “We just comed. I’ll show you to-morrow.”
“Poor little dear thing!” said Louise. “How pretty she is! Winnie, I’ve a good mind to adopt her.”
“Having only five at home,” murmured Tom.
“From the way she talks her people wouldn’t care,” said Louise. “Maybe Camp Karonya could take care of her. We will till we go back, anyway.”
“She must belong to one of those poor families along the west branch,” said Tom. “Three miles away, and we can’t possibly get there by canoeing, because we’d have to paddle back seven miles before we could paddle over the three. Who’s going to walk three miles and a half by the thermometer to take the lady home? Don’t all speak at once.”
“Do you live up there?” Louise asked her. “And does your father drink?”
“Yep,” said Sandy. “Favver? Course he dwinks. Evvybody dwinks.”
“Think of being brought up to think things like that,” said Louise.
“Don’t you think,” suggested Winona, “that we’d better take her back to camp? I don’t know the way to the place Tom talks about, and maybe it would be best for Mrs. Bryan to take her anyway, if they do drink.”
“Good idea,” said everybody. Sandy herself seemed pleased, and attached herself to them as readily as a stray puppy would have done. They cleared up leisurely, then got back into the canoe, taking the child in, too. It was rather a close fit, though it was an eighteen-foot canoe, but they managed it. She was no more trouble than Puppums would have been—Puppums, fortunately, had been left with Florence. They had a good day with the fishing, and trailed into Camp Karonya at six with fish for breakfast; and Sandy.