easure and this was her chance. “Mother?” Orilla’s voice

showed disapproval of that idea, most emphatically. “No, mother is good and has given me much freedom, but she doesn’t quite understand me, you see, Nancy,” finished the girl with one more of those weary, heavy sighs. Before Nancy could speak again Orilla had risen and was leadi

  • ng the way to the other end of the spacious grounds. “Come this way,” she

    said. “We won’t meet anybody and I must not delay too long.” 250 “But Rosa may be

    along—” “Let me tell you alone, Na

  • ncy, please,” pleaded Orilla. “Then you may tell Rosa if you want to. I’m t

    ired of secrets, tired of being hated and tired of fighting. Until you showed some friendl

    iness for me, I haven’t ever remembered

  • kindness except from mother, and, well, just a few others,” finished Orilla,

    evasively. She was hurrying toward the rear of the big house and Nancy was following.

    The path she picked out was quite new to

  • Nancy, who thought she had discovered every little nook and corner of the big summer place, but this was a mere strip of clearance, tunneled in under heavy wild grape vine

  • s that grew clamorously over high and low shrubbery, and even climbed into the biggest wild cherry tree. Neither girl spoke for some minutes. Then Orilla asked Nancy if

  • she liked Fernlode. “Why, yes,” Nancy replied, “I love it.” “So do I,” declared Orilla sharply, “and you know they—put me out!” 251 “Oh, no, Orilla, they

  • didn’t do that,” Nancy hurried to correct her. “When Uncle Frederic married—” “I know all that, Nancy, but don’t let’s talk of it. It makes me furious, even now

  • . Don’t talk any more—some one might hear us. Just come quietly after me,” she whispered. Where could she be leading her, Nancy wondered? Surely this was the end of t

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