A smile showed on the black face, and London nodded his head.
“Missy Melvina am safe in bed,” he whispered, then in a louder tone, “Step in, if ye please, Missy Anna.”
Anna dragged herself up the high step, and Mr. Lyon just then opened a door leading into his study.
“What is it, London?” he questioned, and seeing Anna, lifted his hands in amazement.
“I am to blame about Melvina!” she exclaimed, and, speaking as quickly as she could, she told the whole story. She told it exactly as it had happened, excepting Luretta’s part of the mischief, and Melvina’s willingness to wade in the creeping tide.
Mr. Lyon had taken her by the hand and led her into the candle-lit room. A little fire blazed on the brick hearth, and as Anna came near it a little mist of steam rose from her wet clothes.
The minister listened, keeping Anna’s cold little hand fast in his friendly clasp. His face was very grave, and when she finished with: “Is Melvina safe? London said she was. But, oh, Mr. Lyon, all her fine clothes are swept away, and it is my fault,” he smiled down at her troubled face.
“Be in no further alarm, my child. But come with me, for your feet are cut and bruised, and Mrs. Lyon will give you dry clothing. Melvina does not blame you in her story of this mischievous prank. But I doubt not you are both blameworthy. But ’twill be your parents’ duty to see to thy punishment.” As the minister spoke he drew her toward a door at the far end of the room and opened it, calling for Mrs. Lyon, who rose from her seat near a low table in front of the big kitchen fireplace.
All Anna’s courage had vanished. She hung her head, not daring to look at Mrs. Lyon, saying: