Fanny had not yet learned to do right though the heavens fall.
"Well, I won't say anything about it, Noddy," said she, yielding to what seemed to her the force of circumstances.
"That's right, Fanny. Now, you leave the whole thing to me, and I will manage it so as to keep you out of trouble; and you can repent and be sorry just as much as you please," replied Noddy, as he began to row again. "There is nothing to be afraid of. Ben will never know that we have been on the river."
"But I know it myself," said the conscience-stricken maiden.
"Of course you do; what of that?"
"If I didn't know it myself, I should feel well enough."
"You are a funny girl."
"Don't you ever feel that you have done wrong, Noddy?"
"I suppose I do; but I don't make any such fuss about it as you do."
"You were not brought up by a kind father and a loving sister, who would give anything rather than have you do wrong," said Fanny, beginning to cry again.