Ian Hay

“ What’s that?’ Confused sounds were audible upon the river.
‘I expect it’s the end of the fireworks,’ said Molly, running ahead; ‘but I’ll go and see.’
Mildred stopped short, trembling violently.
‘Molly, don’t go!’ she cried suddenly. ‘Come back, dear!’
Molly obediently retraced her footsteps.
‘All right, Mother,’ she said. ‘Why, what’s the matter? You’re all cold and shaky. Take my arm. Lean on me—hard!’
‘I’m all right, dear; I’m feeling a little chilly, that’s all. Run and get me a wrap, will you?’
Molly raced away, intent upon first aid. ”

“ I say, Mother?’
‘Yes, dear.’
‘I kissed him when we said good-night. I told him first about telling you, and he said he didn’t think you’d be angry. Are you?’
‘No, dear, I’m not angry.’
‘He has a daughter about my age. Did you know?’
‘Yes, dear, I knew. Hark! ”