“I don’t know how. Ted says I preach like the umpire at a ball game.”
“You were going to show me his funny letter,” put in Rosa, her eagerness to change the subject not even thinly disguised. “I know you have a whole batch of them, too. You know, Dell is just crazy about that sort of thing. She wants to teach kindergarten. Just imagine!”
“She’s very intelligent,” said Nancy, falling back into her own way of saying things which had ever been a part of her home life. “Mother always says we can tell folks by the things they prefer, rather than by the company they keep.”
“You’re over my head, Nancy,” laughed Rosa. “But if that’s true I must be a spiritual skeleton, for I love--thin folks.” Impulsively Rosa had thrown her arms around Nancy, and just as impulsively Nancy had thrown her arms around Rosa, until presently they were dancing through the woods like a couple of sprites--even if Rosa was a trifle out of spritely proportion.
They sang snatches of songs, they tried out different steps and were as free as the air about them; until they heard something queer.
“What’s that?” Nancy asked the question first.
“A man, don’t you think?” Rosa’s voice had dwindled to a whisper.
Again came the noise interrupting their questions. This time there was no mistaking it. Someone was groaning.
“Let’s run back; we’re away out in Baker’s Woods,” said Rosa with deep concern. “And there’s the road. We’ll take that,” at which both girls turned to the well beaten path.
“Halt!” came the command. “Right about face!”
“Garry Durand!” exclaimed Rosa. “You mean thing!”
“Not to be an old tramp or something?” jeered the boy, who had stepped out into their path and was enjoying the little fright he had given them. “I suppose,” he went on, “you are disappointed. A real bandit would have been more fun.”
“Now, Gar,” scolded Rosa, “you know a lot better than that. We were just wondering where you and Dell had been keeping yourselves.”
“Like fun you were, just wondering. We’ve been watching you dance. What was that? A new one?”
At this there stepped from behind a big tree, another young man--no doubt Paul.
“This is Paul Randolph,” said Gar, “Miss Brandon and the famous Rosa--”
But Rosa cut that short. “The idea,” she protested, “of you peeping.”