"Margery!" he repeated as though scarce able to believe his eyes. Then as the vision remained fixed, he changed his tone.
"Margery Blair, you come right out of that pond!"
All the outraged conventionalities of an elder brother sounded in his voice and showed in the horrified expression of his face.
Margery did not question fate, but meekly obeyed. Slowly and reluctantly she made her way to shore. Henry was at the water's edge to hasten her landing. He reached out and dragged her in—no longer a defiant young Venus, but a very frightened little girl whose naughtiness had found her out. Henry pushed her roughly toward her pile of clothes with the succinct order, "Now dress." He made a screen of his body between her and the five pairs of eyes that were bobbing about so exasperatingly on the water.
Behind the screen Margery shivered helplessly. "Ain't got nothin' to wipe with," she sniffled.
Very carefully and deliberately, without exposing for an instant the form of his frail sister, Henry deposited on the ground his tin can of minnows, went through all his pockets, and finally pulled out a small, dirty handkerchief. As he handed this over his shoulder, the little boys in the water laughed.
"Say, Henry, will you lend me that towel when Margery's through with it?" asked Charley Burns facetiously.
"I'll punch your head when I ketch you. That's what I'll do to you."
Charley did not continue the subject.