“It’s not her real name,” Florence hastened to assure her. “She’s Jensie Jameson.”
“Oh! I have seen her. She is quite marvelous. But why do you call her Green Eyes?”
“Perhaps we’re not quite fair to her. She seems jealous of my friend here. Green-eyed, as we have a way of saying. Besides, in some lights her eyes are truly green.”
“Green Eyes.” The tone of the mystery lady became reflective. “How terrible! What can be worse than jealousy? Hatred is bad. But jealousy! How many beautiful friendships have been destroyed, how many happy homes wrecked by jealousy. If I were given to that terrible sin, I should fight it day and night.
“As for this affair—” She changed the subject abruptly. “I think you may feel at ease. Unless I miss my guess, this bit of misfortune was not meant for you at all.
“And now—” She swung about. “What of to-night? Your clothes are not dry. I can loan you some. But are you not afraid to return to camp at this late hour?”
“We have little to fear.” Florence smiled in a strange way. “We have a bear.”
“A bear?”
“A pet bear.”
“But you?” said Petite Jeanne. “Are you not afraid to stay here alone?”