THE REDEMPTION OF ANTHONY
She held out her blackened arms and lifted a strangely mottled face.
"But where? But where?" he reiterated anxiously.
"In my feelings, of course. Do you suppose anybody could look like this and not be hurt?"
He got a flat stick and began to scrape her off, solemnly. His expression suddenly struck her, and she sat down on the rock and laughed until the tears came.
"I'm so sorry—" he began, in alarm at this mirth.
"You look it," she said, with another outburst.
"We'll go straight home," he promised.
"We'll do nothing of the sort. Would you mind fishing out my shoe over there?"
She pointed to a partly submerged object, and he waded in and rescued it, scraping it carefully before returning it.
"I am so sorry," he protested again.
"You poor old dear, don't you bother," she said. "It was a case of pride coming
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