“I forgot to wear dark glasses today,” she confessed. “The bright sun must have strained my eyes.”
As the afternoon wore on, Miss Gordon felt increasingly miserable. Mrs. Williams, who was helping the Brownies pick, noticed the strained expression on the teacher’s face.
“You really shouldn’t be here,” she declared. “Let me drive you home.”
“I don’t like to be a quitter—”
“Nonsense,” said Connie’s mother firmly. “You should be in bed. I’ll drive you home now, and return for the Brownies.”
Miss Gordon allowed herself to be persuaded. “Now don’t worry about me, girls,” she said, noticing the troubled faces of the Brownies. “It’s only a headache. I’ll be on hand again early tomorrow morning.”
After Mrs. Williams and Miss Gordon had gone, the Brownies picked steadily for a long while. They kept watching the road, thinking that Connie’s mother soon would return.
The trip seemed to take a very long while. Eileen began to worry lest something had happened to the car.
“What if we shouldn’t get to the Mexican camp before dark?” she fretted. “Then we might not find our crazy quilt.”
“Shouldn’t we go there right away?” Veve proposed impatiently. “Miss Gordon didn’t say anything about it when she left.”