"John Willie, I've told you about throwing stones at bottles before—get you home till I come——"
"And you too, Percy Briggs; and you dare to stir out till I tell you!"
"Don't cry, little girl——"
Ynys has no thought whatever of crying. She makes no more motion than a pine makes when it bleeds its gouts of resin in the spring. But they continue to comfort her.
"She'll never be able to walk like that!"
"Better fetch Gilbert Smythe."
"June, you run——"
"Here's half a crown for you, Ynys, for being a brave little girl."
Then Minetta, who has been conferring with Belle, speaks.—"All right, mother, she's to come home with us; I'm going to paint her."
"There, now, Ynys, you're going to be painted! Won't that be fun!"