Then the nurse jumped out of the carriage.  She looked keenly at Dorothy.

“Do you—­stop there?” she asked curiously.

“I have been stopping there,” answered Dorothy, now completely mystified by the young woman’s manner.

“Is your name——­”

“My name is Dorothy Dale, and for some reason I have been—­hidden away from my friends,” said Dorothy bravely.  “I was just about to ask you to assist me to get back to them.  I was in camp at Everglade.”

“Why, of course I will assist you!” replied the nurse in the most affable manner.  “Get right into the carriage, and we will have you back at camp in no time.”  Dorothy hesitated.  The nurse consulted a small note book.

“Come right in, dear.  We are going straight down to Everglade,” and she touched Dorothy’s arm to urge her.

“Strange, I feel so nervous about falling into traps,” said Dorothy honestly, looking deeply into the eyes that were investigating every feature of her own fair face.  “But you see I did fall, literally, and——­”

“Of course, and you were hurt.”  Dorothy could not understand that caressing manner.  It was identical with that exercised by Mrs. Hobbs.  “Now, come,” and Dorothy did step into the carriage.  “We will drive along quickly, so that we may reach camp before luncheon.  James, hurry your horse.”

For a few moments Dorothy felt as if she must collapse.  The strain of her escape from the old house, then her fright from the bird, and her fear that Mrs. Hobbs would overtake her.  And now to be actually riding back to camp!  What would her friends say to her?  Oh, how good it would be to relieve them of all their anxiety, and to be really going back well—­comparatively well, at any rate.

“I’ve had quite a time of it these last two days,” she remarked, glancing timidly at the figure in white beside her, “but it seems all things come out right—­if we only have patience.”

“But I wouldn’t talk dear—­the sun has been warm, and you are quite overheated.  Wouldn’t you like to rest your head here, on my lap?”

Dorothy sat up erect.  This was surely unheard of.  Who was this nurse?  Where was she taking her?

“I am perfectly well, thank you,” she said in the firmest tones she could command, “and I really would like to know where we are going?  Why do you treat me as if I were ill or a child?”

“There, there,” and the nurse touched Dorothy’s hand.  “Of course you are perfectly well, and of course, we are going to camp.  James, is your horse asleep?”

But Dorothy was frightened.  There was something mysterious in it all.  Another wagon approached.  It drew slowly along.

Mr. Hobbs!

Dorothy’s heart gave a leap as his old wagon stopped!  The nurse put her head out of the little curtained window and made signs to him.

“All right!  All right!” he replied.  “Yes, that’s her!”

“That’s her!” repeated Dorothy.  “That’s me!  What is this trick?  Let me out of this carriage instantly, or I will call for help!”