When the foot-path ended, there was the riverbank. The two little girls sat down under a clump of brook willows and talked, while the river, full of green and blue and golden lights, slipped past them and never stopped.
Then Lily proceeded to unfold a plan, which was not philosophical, but naughtily ingenious. By this time Lily knew very well that Amelia admired her, and imitated her as successfully as possible, considering the drawback of dress and looks.
When she had finished Amelia was quite pale. “I am afraid, I am afraid, Lily,” said she.
“What of?”
“My mother will find out; besides, I am afraid it isn't right.”
“Who ever told you it was wrong?”
“Nobody ever did,” admitted Amelia.
“Well, then you haven't any reason to think it is,” said Lily, triumphantly. “And how is your mother ever going to find it out?”
“I don't know.”
“Isn't she ill in her room? And does she ever come to kiss you good night, the way my mother does, when she is well?”