She continued this as steadily as if she were not face to
face with a great tragedy. She did not yet know whether or not it were
a tragedy; but, if appearances went for anything, it was. In the
meantime the guardian had glanced over her shoulder at the pond. She
saw the trunk slowly drifting in.
"Get it and open it, Hazel," she commanded.
"I haven't a key."
"Break it open with a stone. Never mind a key."
Hazel ran out into the water until she was up to her neck, then she
swam out. Reaching the floating trunk, she got behind it and began
pushing it shoreward. Margery and Tommy stood watching the
proceedings in speechless horror. Hazel got the trunk ashore, when,
following the guardian's directions, she broke the lock open with a
stone.
"It's open," she cried.
"Are the things inside very wet?"
"No; they are just as dry as they can be."
"Good. Are Harriet's clothes there?"
"I think so. Shall I take them out?"
"Not just yet. I will tell you if they are needed."
Hazel understood what was in the mind of the guardian. Were Harriet
Burrell not to recover, the dry clothing would not be needed.
Nevertheless, Hazel piled the contents of the trunk on the ground,
then replaced it, leaving Harriet's belongings at the top of the pile,
so that they would be ready at hand in case of need.
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