“You are the strongest sick girl I ever saw,” declared the nurse.  “I hope I have made no mistake.”

“Well, indeed you have,” replied Dorothy.  “I tell you I am not and have never been a patient at any institution.  I thought there was some test of mentality—­the eye, isn’t it?”

“But nurses cannot make tests,” answered Miss Bell.  “We have to wait for the dear professional, all-powerful doctors to do that.  This is my first day here, and I think I am going to be almost as lonely as you are.”

“I am sorry for you, but you may leave if you wish.  It is quite different in my case!”

“My dear, if you can only be content to-night, I promise you some one will come to-morrow.  They have sent for your mother—­Mrs. Harriwell.”

“Oh, the mother of the lost girl?  Well, she will know.  But I must stay all night in this dreadful place—­all night?”

“I promise not to leave you.  They will send another nurse to relieve me, but I will decline to go.  Somehow you have almost convinced me there is a mistake.”

“Thank you,” replied Dorothy.  “Perhaps it will be best not to complain.”

She was looking out at the beautiful grounds and thinking of the dear ones whose hearts must be torn with anguish for her.  If only she could telegraph!

“Do you think I could send a message?” she asked, “to my friends—­to my cousins, at Everglade?”

“I am afraid not—­until after the doctor sees you.  You see, some other patient—­a man named Morrison—­is blamed for having helped you to escape.”

“Morrison?” repeated Dorothy.  “That is the name of the man who is to blame for all this trouble; that is, we blamed him for inducing a friend of mine to leave our camp.”

“He has a faculty for inducing people to leave,” said Miss Bell.  “We hope we will soon be able to catch him—­then it is not likely that he will get another chance to exercise that faculty.  Three patients left the day that you did.”

“The day that she did,” corrected Dorothy.  “Well, nurse, since you are so kind to me, we must be friends, and I must not make you any unnecessary trouble.”

“One has to be kind to you,” said the nurse, putting her cheek close to Dorothy’s.  “I must comb out your hair.  It has been neglected.”

“Yes, but that will be easily fixed up again.  Such matters seem scarcely to trouble me now.  There are so many bigger things to think of.”

The nurse got comb and brush, and started to smooth out the long, light tresses.

“What is that scratch?” she asked, stopping to look at a mark on Dorothy’s neck.

“It may have been the mark left there by Mrs. Hobbs’ parrot,” said Dorothy, “or it may be one of the scratches I got when I fell over the cliff.  You see, I have been having a dreadful time.  But when it is all over I will have something worth talking about, to tell at camp.  I hope you will call upon us there.  You would not be lonely if you knew our boys.”