THE REDEMPTION OF ANTHONY
"I suppose that's it. I hope I'll get used to it, but it makes me afraid just now."
"You needn't be. If the thoughts are worth revealing, I think our way is the best. What shall you do with yourself?"
"Mother is going to introduce me soon."
"Dear, dear! What a pity! Now, that's the old-fashioned part of me, and the new-fashioned part says: 'What a fine time you'll have.' But I always regret that that mother of yours wastes her brain on social frippery; but there—she's made Drake, and that will stand as her epitaph."
"Made him? How?"
The Parson hemmed a little uncertainly.
"Well, the story goes that your mother discovered Drake's genius, saved him from himself, and made him what he is."
"How splendid!" cried Priscilla, her eyes shining.
"What's splendid?" broke in Mrs. Crompton, looking at them.
"Don't tell her," said Priscilla impulsively.
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