“How came you to go out there?” he asked.
“I was expected to go somewhere else,” she answered with one of her elfin looks.
Steve was silent. Mentally he was wondering if this was the mainspring of conduct in all women. He thought very likely it was. Mary often asked his advice and then always took her own way, and it was invariably opposite to the course he had indicated.
They had not gone much further, when, happening to look around for something, Nannie caught a glimpse of her dress skirt and saw that it was creased and stained with mud.
“There now! I've just ruined my gown!” she exclaimed, and then burst into passionate tears.
“Miss Branscome! don't!” said Steve, who was fairly startled out of his usual quiet into something akin to excitement. “Don't! I beg of you. Nannie! don't cry, my dear!”
He failed to notice how he had spoken; so did she, apparently.
“We can make it all right, I know,” he continued, but for a time she refused to be comforted.
“You would cry too, I guess, if you were in my place and would get such an awful scolding at home.”
“No doubt I would,” assented Steve in deep distress.