Her upturned eyes were dark with excitement, her sudden color was high. There were little freckles across the bridge of her piquant nose. She was alive and glowing in every line.
"Where did you spring from?" asked Edna, brushing back a lock of hair with the back of her wet hand.
"First from the office, then from the Tide Mill, later from your house propelled by Miss Lacey, and ultimately from that rock, to discover by what magic there was some big urchin that Miss Derwent couldn't get. I never knew one who wasn't at her service,—the regiment headed by myself."
"On the contrary," returned Edna, "I distinctly remember when mother tried to get you to come to us here and you refused."
"Not refused. Regretted with tears. This is my party call,—the first opportunity I've had to make it."
"Well, you see now what you missed." Edna waved her hand toward the landscape.
"Don't I! From the moment of leaving the Tide Mill until I discovered your blonde and brunette heads bending over this pool my pilgrimage has been one long reminiscent wail."
"Oh, of course if you talk that way you will restore my complacency. When did you come to the Tide Mill?"
"Friday."
"In time for the storm, then."