CHAPTER XV

WAIF OF THE WILDWOODS

It was so much better than dreams. Not only did Nora feel the importance of having a real secret, but she also realized that the same circumstance had actually made Vita her abject slave. Not a wish was expressed by the visitor in Vita's presence but the maid would, if it were possible at all, see to its fulfillment.

"I believe I'll tell Alma," Nora decided one morning after a visit and return to and from Camp Chickadee. Almost daily she made those trips and the Scouts had become such friends with her she was now regarded quite as one of their number.

Expecting to join formally as soon as the other candidates of Rocky Ledge were ready and the Counsellor should come down from the city, Nora studied her manual and prepared for the honor. In the meantime she was privileged to enjoy many of the Scout activities.

But "the secret" was really more engrossing just now. It provided her with a personal importance--what girl does not enjoy the possession of a knowledge others have not and everyone would love to have?

It was thrilling. Alma, the Tenderfoot Scout, who from the first had espoused Nora's cause and even confided in her the real story of the woodland prince, met her daily at a wonderful rendezvous, and there the two girls, away from teasing companions, enjoyed confidences and built air castles.

"I'll tell her today," the resolve was repeated as Nora started out.

She arrived first, and while waiting had a race with Cap all the way to the Three Oaks and back again.

"Dogs have to run faster," explained Nora breathlessly, when Cap won by more than he needed to establish his claim. "If you could not run faster than human beings, Cap, you could never have been made a Red Cross messenger, as you were in the awful war."

The arrival of Alma cut short the encomium. Salutations were brief for both were eager to "tell each other a lot of things."

"Alma, do you think you could keep a secret?" The question was so trite and time worn Alma smiled before answering in the affirmative.

"Because," continued Nora, "this is the biggest secret I have ever had, and Barbara and I have had a great many."

"I have to have secrets," returned Alma, "because none of the girls seem to understand me. They tease, you know, they almost made me homesick one night; they kept teasing and teasing about the prince; and Miss Beckwith had a hard time to make me stop crying."

Nora winced. "Well, this isn't that sort of a secret," she said presently. "It's about our attic."

"What about it?"

"Oh, it's a lot to tell. We had better sit on the big log under the chestnut tree and be comfortable before I start."

Then began the story of the first night at Wildwoods when Nora was determined to sleep in the attic. Many an exclamation of surprise was thrown in by the more practical Alma, but this in no way turned the narrator from her course. She sent thrill after thrill up and down Alma's spine, and she even voiced a suspicion that Vita might have a member of "some den of thieves hidden in the attic, although she is the soul of honesty," Nora was particular to state.

But it was the incident that occurred the night they went to Lenox that really caused Alma to exclaim tragically:

"Nora, you should tell Mrs. Manton! It is not safe to hide anything so serious as that. Suppose the Thing comes crawling down some night and Vita is not there to drive it back?"

"Oh, she doesn't drive it back," Nora had not actually visualized the terror in that way. "She just kept me from finding out----"

"What?" interrupted Alma when Nora paused from sheer excitement.

"I don't know what!"

"What do you think?"

"Well, maybe it's a--really Alma, I don't dare think. I did not know how frightened I was till I started talking about it. Why, I am just all creeps," admitted Nora. "Here Cap," she shouted, as the dog attempted to wander off, "don't go away. Come on, Alma. I guess we had better go out by the road. Why, I am just as frightened as if the--Thing were around here!" she gasped.

"Maybe it is," said Alma cruelly, picking up her knitting upon which she had not taken a stitch, and following Nora out of the little woodland into the more open field that flanked the narrow roadway.

They hurried. Alma tripped and Nora almost screamed.

"Why, what is the matter?" asked the Scout. "You haven't seen anything?"

"No, but I feel so queer. You know, Alma" (she loved an audience), "I am queer and I do believe I sometimes feel things in advance. Miss Baily always said I did."

"She must have been queer herself," retorted Alma. "I had those wild ideas, too, until I joined the Scouts. That's the reason Mother had me join. She said I was too much alone----"

It was difficult to talk while hurrying over newly-cut stumps with which the field was so thickly strewn. The surveyor's men had hewn many a fine young birch and numbers of ambitious young maples there, for this was one of the forests lately cleared.

"Here come the girls," exclaimed Nora, as they looked down the road. "Alma, promise not to say a single word----"

"Why, Nora Blair! As if I would divulge a secret----"

"Excuse me, Alma. I did not mean just that. But when one does not realize the importance----"

"I do realize it. But it's all right, Nora. I know just how you feel," conceded Alma, amiably. "There. I have to go with Pell to get some grasses from the Ledge. I'm sorry I can't walk home with you. You don't mind----"

"Not in the least, Alma. I was just jumpy while we talked--that way. Besides, I always have Cap. Good bye. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Won't you wait for the girls?"

"I'm afraid if I do I'll stay talking. Hello," she called out as Pell and Thistle came up. "Alma and I have had such a lovely time out in the oak woods I am late for my--chores," she finished, laughing.

"What do you chore, Nora?" asked Pell. Her face was beaming with the health of camp life and her voice vibrated youth and happiness.

"She chores chores of course," Thistle assisted. "I am sure the Nest is a lot nicer place to live and work in than Camp Chickadee--when Pell Mell is our inspector," she finished, with a pout.

"Nora, would you believe it that wretched girl left her shoes outside of camp last night and this morning they were gone--to a goat preserve somewhere," explained Pell. "She has my second best 'sneaks' on now, yet she will malign me----"

"Why and whither away?" interrupted Thistle, seeing Nora about to escape.

"Oh, I really must. I'll see you later," promised the blonde girl, whose hair, always so fair, seemed to have taken on a shade of pure gold since exposed to the open sunshine of Rocky Ledge.

So with paths divided they separated, and that was how it came to pass that Nora was alone when she encountered the wonderful adventure.

Taking to the lane path, a walk she seldom thought of following, Nora, keyed up with her excitement following the telling of her story to Alma, felt she must get off somewhere and "collect herself" before going back to the house.

Perhaps her head was down, and she may have ventured along as do much older and more serious folk when engaged in some perplexing problem, at any rate Nora was down the lane and into a strange grove before she realized it.

She looked up with a start. "Where ever am I?" she said, if not aloud, certainly loud enough for her own hearing.

The place was a veritable camp of low pines, and so dark it was beneath the thickly woven boughs, Nora felt as if she had stepped from day to night.

"But so pretty," she commented. Then she looked about for Cap. It would not be wise to stray into such a lonely place without his reliable protection. He marched up with a very military air as she called his name. Evidently the place, strange to Nora, was familiar to him, for he did not so much as raise his shaggy head to glance around him.

"Stay here," she whispered. Then, turning to survey the place, she almost froze with fright. Over in under a very low tree she saw something move--it was like a bundle of rags and it--yes, it had a head!

"Oh, mercy!" she gasped. "What's that?"

The black bundle rolled over and sat up. Two big, brown eyes glared at her! The head was covered with a shawl. Was it a woman?

Frozen now with genuine fright Nora tried to move, but felt more like sinking down.

"Oh!" she breathed. Then she saw how small it was. There! It was humping up. Like a queer sort of animal the bundle took shape on huddled shoulders, and from the outline eyes glared.

It was not more than twenty feet from where Nora stood, but the almost night darkness of the grove helped make illusions terrifying.

Now it was on knees and now it stood up!

"Oh," cried Nora. "Who are you?"

A little girl--a poor little ragged girl, evidently more frightened than Nora herself.

"Oh, do come here," cried Nora, as soon as she saw how she had been deceived. "I won't hurt you."

The child was now standing. What a sorry little figure! The part that was not eyes seemed just rags, and two bare feet pressed upon the brown pine needles like chunks of withered wood. Her head was covered with an ugly gray scarf and yet the day was warm enough to feel the sun's rays even through the dense trees.

"What's your name, little girl?" asked Nora, venturing a step nearer.

The eyes rolled and then a smile broke over that frightened face. "I'm Lucia," replied the child, and her voice was as pretty as her name.