Then they concluded you must have
gone in the other boat. Don't worry. You can stay all night with me and
we'll 'phone up to Ingleside where you are."
Rilla realized that there was nothing else to do. Her lips trembled and
tears came into her eyes. She blinked savagely--she would not let Mary
Vance see her crying. But to be forgotten like this! To think nobody had
thought it worth while to make sure where she was--not even Walter.
Then she had a sudden dismayed recollection.
"My shoes," she exclaimed. "I left them in the boat."
"Well, I never," said Mary. "You're the most thoughtless kid I ever saw.
You'll have to ask Hazel Lewison to lend you a pair of shoes."
"I won't." cried Rilla, who didn't like the said Hazel. "I'll go
barefoot first."
Mary shrugged her shoulders.
"Just as you like. Pride must suffer pain. It'll teach you to be more
careful. Well, let's hike."
Accordingly they hiked. But to "hike" along a deep-rutted, pebbly lane
in frail, silver-hued slippers with high French heels, is not an
exhilarating performance. Rilla managed to limp and totter along until
they reached the harbour road; but she could go no farther in those
detestable slippers. She took them and her dear silk stockings off and
started barefoot. That was not pleasant either; her feet were very
tender and the pebbles and ruts of the road hurt them. Her blistered
heels smarted.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74