"No need of hunting for Max," the big man replied, "for he took good care of himself, and came sneaking home, safe and sound, while he left you, little girl, to look out for yourself as well as you could."
With care they made their way down the rugged hillside, and Gwen was so happy that she sang snatches of songs, and someone in the rear whistled to keep her company.
Arrived at the house, Gwen had a fine welcome.
She was not generally liked, because of her pert, saucy ways, but the fact that she had been lost, and now had returned was surely a reason for rejoicing.
"Where's Max?" queried a young man who had been one of the searchers.
"The dear boy was so tired with his tramp that he asked to go at once to bed. He was really fatigued, for usually he coaxes to remain up," Mrs. Deland said, "and really," she continued, "the only reason that he did not take Gwen along with him was because she said that she must rest a while."
"I suppose it was impossible for him to wait with her," said someone in the crowd.
"Max is very tender hearted," Mrs. Deland responded, "and he said he thought if he waited, she might start before she was sufficiently rested."
With much dignity, Mrs. Deland turned from the piazza, and entered the house. She knew that Max was at fault, and that everyone in the group thought so.
She would not acknowledge that her little son could be in the wrong. Max, according to her ideas, should be praised, and approved of at all times.