“Now turn me around, so I can get that white birch against the stone wall.”
Close to the birch sat Caro. “Wait a minute and I’ll get down,” she called, remembering how provoked Brother Arthur was when she got in his way.
“Stay just where you are,” a decided voice commanded, and Caro staid, feeling not unlike the convicts at the prison who had to have their pictures taken whether they liked it or not.
It was over in a second and then down she scrambled and ran after the other children.
“Caro! what made you so long? what did you see?” Marjorie cried.
“Nothing but two men; but Marjorie they took my picture!”
“Oh Caro, maybe they are going to arrest you!”
“I don’t believe they are,” Caro answered gravely, “for do you know Marjorie he—the sick man I mean—is very nice looking.”
As they walked back to the house she added, “Just think how dreadful it must be not to be able to walk.”