A SMALL BROWN BAG
And Rosa was getting thin! In this simple, easy, pleasant way--just
long walks, daily. That meant rain or shine and “long” meant all the
way to the village, clear down to the post office, two miles each way.
At first Rosa objected; she found her feet untrained for such tramps,
but Nancy knew and insisted.
“Why not try _my_ cure?” she urged. “It’s not near as unpleasant as
Orilla’s.”
“Very well,” Rosa would sigh. “But you better tip off the scales. If
they don’t mark me low--”
“They will,” Nancy promised, and of course they always did.
Gar proposed tennis. Rosa had never before played--“good reason why,”
she explained, but now she was anxious to try the splendid summer game.
“You look wonderful in your sport suit, Rosa,” Nancy encouraged, “and
out on the courts--”
“All right. Anything once, but don’t expect me to fly up in the air
after the ball, the way you do, Nance. I’m still something of a paper
weight, you know.”
So tennis was tried, successfully.
“I know what was the matter with you, Rosa,” her cousin told her one
afternoon after an especially enjoyable set with Paul and Gar, “you
thought you were fat, and so you were self-conscious and miserable. Now
you think you aren’t very fat, and you’re proud.”
“I think I’m not! I am not, am I Nancy? Tell me quickly! End this
‘crool’ suspense--” and Rosa performed a wonderful stunt with tennis
racket and ball, actually “flying” off her feet in a really creditable
manner.
She was so happy! No one who has always been free from such an
insistent worry as Rosa’s had been, can actually understand the joy of
hope that a few pounds less flesh can bring. The hand of that little
white scale became a friend, an understanding friend, and every time
it pointed to a figure Rosa held her breath.
But this did not solve the mystery built around Orilla. Rosa herself
was as keenly interested in that as was Nancy, in spite of her rescue
from any actual need of it. Bit by bit she confided in Nancy details of
the queer bargain between her and Orilla. She had shared her allowance
with her, who insisted she had a right to some of it anyway, and that
she would not “make Rosa as thin as herself” if she didn’t pay well for
it.
“But what has she done with the money?” Nancy asked, after that
admission.
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Rosa, innocently. “You see, she had some
big project in her mind and everything else she could get was supposed
to go toward it.”
One evening when Nancy was seeking a little solitude along the lake
front, there to read again her latest letter from her mother and the
latest “funny page” from Ted, she was startled by someone calling her
name in a hushed, whispering voice.
“Who is it?” she asked, although quite certain of whom it would prove
to be.
“I, Orilla,” came the answer, as the girl stepped from behind the
shrubbery into Nancy’s path.
“Oh, how you frightened me!” Nancy exclaimed. “I was so intent upon--my
own thoughts. How are you, Orilla? We haven’t seen or heard of you in
such a long time.”
“Oh, I’m all right,” replied the girl, who as usual wore the dingy suit
of khaki, and a boy’s soft hat upon her thick red hair. “I’m glad I met
you here. I want to ask a favor of you.”
“All right, Orilla,” said Nancy sincerely, “I shall be glad to help you
if I can.”
“I believe you. You’re different. Maybe it’s because you’re poor--”
Nancy smiled broadly at this, but Orilla did not appear to notice it.
She motioned to a rustic seat and they both sat down. Nancy was curious
and a little anxious, for Orilla, while assuming friendship, still
had that queer, furtive look in her eyes, and her face was surely
unnaturally flushed.
“Have you been working too hard, Orilla?” Nancy asked kindly. “You
aren’t strong and you shouldn’t--”
“I’m strong as an ox,” interrupted the girl. “That’s because I live out
doors. I was sick once, and since I cured myself no one has interfered
with my ways.”
This, thought Nancy, must be why Orilla’s mother allowed her to do as
she pleased. But even so, she surely might have saved her daughter from
wood chopping!
“Yes, I only go indoors at night--I steal in. No one knows where I go,”
this meant much to Orilla, evidently. “But you’re my friend and we both
have a secret, so that’s what I want to tell you.”
Nancy was so surprised she merely listened, not venturing to interrupt
with a single word. Orilla kept locking and unlocking her fingers in a
nervous way, and she fidgeted in her seat even more nervously.
As if the secret so long waited for was about to burst over Nancy’s
head, like a cloud before a storm, she waited.
“Yes, I know I can trust you,” Orilla continued after a pause. “You’re
what they call an idealist, aren’t you?”
“No, I don’t think I am,” faltered Nancy. “Why should I be?”
“Because you’re so square. I’ve read about girls like you. They always
want everything just right, no tricks nor sneaking. I knew that night
when you tried on that cape that you were doing something for Rosa.”
“Why? How did you know?”
“You looked it. When a girl is sneaking she doesn’t flare up and get
mad the way you did,” went on the surprising Orilla and Nancy knew
better than to prolong the discussion by any arguments. She merely
smiled and accepted the words as they were intended.
“And since then you’ve never told,” Orilla declared, her features drawn
and strained as she talked, and her eyes shifting. “You never told
Rosa, for if you had she would have told me. What she knows the world
knows,” said Orilla, scornfully.
“But Rosa has never said anything against you, Orilla,” spoke up Nancy.
“I’m sure you ought to give her credit for that.”
“There you go again. I told you you were an idealist. But that’s all
the better for me. I can trust you, too.”
This sounded like trickery to Nancy, and she said so.
“But you are lots older than I am and you ought to have lots more
sense,” she pointed out. “I don’t mind helping you, if it’s something
you can’t do yourself, but I must be loyal to my own family,” she
insisted, firmly.
“It won’t interfere with your family, don’t worry,” replied Orilla. “I
just want you to take care of some money for me. That’s not so hard to
do, is it?”
“Money!” Nancy remembered what Rosa had said about that. “Why can’t
_you_ take care of it?” she asked.
“Because I suspect that someone knows I’ve got it, and they’re after
it.” Orilla was very calm and composed now, and Nancy noticed how
quickly her moods changed. “It’s in this little bag,” Orilla continued,
showing to Nancy a square, brown bag made of khaki, just like her suit.
It was bulky and seemed to contain quite a lot of money--if it were all
money.
“Well, if you just want me to take it for a few days I don’t suppose
there is any harm in that,” reasoned Nancy. “But suppose someone stole
it from me?”
“No one would around here, that is, not up in your rooms,” replied
Orilla. “Please take it, Nancy. It means an awful lot to me,” and she
laid the bag on Nancy’s lap as she pleaded.
“All right. But don’t hold me responsible. I’ll do the best I can to
take care of it, of course,” Nancy assured her, “but if anything _does_
happen--”
“It won’t. Thank you for taking it, Nancy. Now I am free to--finish my
work,” and she stood up to leave.
“But, Orilla, you were going to tell me something else; your secret
place, wasn’t it?” Nancy felt now she should know more about Orilla’s
business if she were going to act as her secret treasurer.
“Oh, I can’t wait now, but meet me here to-morrow evening at this time,
and then I’ll tell you. Good-bye, I must go. Don’t mention having seen
me,” and just as she had done before, Orilla slipped away, back of the
bushes like a wild creature of the woods, indeed.
For a few minutes Nancy sat there, the brown bag lying in her lap, an
unwelcome treasure.
“How queer!” she was thinking. “And most of this was Rosa’s. But
Rosa gave it to her, so it really is Orilla’s now. Imagine my being
her--cashier!” and a little laugh escaped from Nancy’s lips.
The gentle splash of a canoe paddle told of Orilla’s departure, and
Nancy checked her thoughts to listen.
“She is certainly the oddest girl I have ever met,” she reflected. “But
I had no idea of becoming a chum of hers. What would Rosa say if she
knew?”
This was not a pleasant consideration, but somehow Nancy knew she
could serve even Rosa best by agreeing, partly, with Orilla, so her
misgivings were presently quieted.
Having the bag of money was certainly a tangible link between her and
Orilla, and already Nancy understood its significance.
“I’d love to tell Rosa,” she pondered, “but if I did Orilla would not
trust me further, and I know I must keep her confidence, for a while at
least. Just now Rosa is getting along so splendidly,” she told herself,
“and she’s so relieved from her worries, that it surely must be best to
keep her out of Orilla’s affairs.”
The little brown bag assumed almost a live form as Nancy clutched it.
How long had Orilla been saving all that money? Some of it was in
bills--that was easily felt through the cloth--and much of it was in
coin; the weight vouched for that.
However, it was all in Nancy’s keeping now, and she tucked it under her
scarf as she entered the house. Meeting Rosa in the hall, Nancy then
accepted the plan for an evening at Durand’s.
“Anything easy for to-night,” she replied to Rosa’s suggestion. “I
don’t feel a bit like thinking--hard.”