THE REDEMPTION OF ANTHONY
"Don't say it! I hate him—it makes me feel so terrible—and grown up."
The last tragic words came out with a burst of tears, and poor Drake stood in helpless amazement, wondering what to do. Finally he put his arm about her shoulders and drew her to him, and the yellow head went down on his breast, and then, all at once, a new and utterly unexplainable thrill of happiness went through him and left him trembling.
"You're very good," Priscilla sobbed. "I don't feel at all grown up with you."
"Thanks—I don't with you, either. You're all right now. Come along and play, and forget about Peter."
He led her down to the water's edge again, and found her a seat.
"Want some water-lilies?"
She nodded. He sat down, took off his shoes and stockings, and waded in.
"It's great," he said, grinning back at her. "Come on in."
"Lovely! I'll do it!" cried Priscilla, and
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