The child paused uncomfortably and rubbed her curly yellow head with her thin little hand in an embarrassed way.

“Why were you mad, Lydia?” In spite of himself, Marshall’s voice was softening, as Amos had known it would.  Lydia made a deep appeal somehow to the tenderness of men.

“Tell Mr. Marshall all you told me, Lydia,” said Amos.

“Well—­well, you see, it’s like this.  Margery’s always so clean and she has lovely clothes and—­and she—­she looks down on us other kids so we won’t generally let her play with us—­and she’s an awful ’fraid cat and—­and a tattle-tale.  But when we got to playing Robinson Crusoe, and were digging the cave she helped and got terrible dirty, just like us, and then she wanted to be Friday’s father, and then—­well—­now—­I guess the rest of it was Kent’s and my fault.  We forgot she couldn’t swim and we forgot what a cry-baby she was.  ’Cause you see, water’s almost like land to Kent and me and we’d been swimming ’most all day, and Margery’s the only kid around here that can’t swim.”

“Why can’t she swim?” demanded Marshall.  “How’d all the rest of you learn?  Don’t you think you were mean not to let her learn?”

Again Lydia’s pellucid eyes widened.  “Why her mother won’t let her play with common kids like us!  And us kids never learned.  We’ve just played in the water ever since we was as big as baby.  She’ll be swimming by the time she’s five,” added Lydia, looking at the sleeping Patience and speaking with the curious note of richness in her voice.

David Marshall scowled and stirred uncomfortably.  He did not look at Amos, who sat with his arm about Lydia, his thin face a lesser replica of the old engraving of Daniel Webster hanging on the wall above.

“Well, go on!  How’d she come to fall overboard?”

“She and I was sitting in the boat, and baby, she was tied to a tree by a long string and she began to cry to come too, and I jumped over to go quiet her.  Kent he’d gone to get another boat.  And Margery she jumped up and began to yell and wave her arms and fell overboard.  Then I remembered she couldn’t swim and I went back and got her and Kent came and pulled us in shore.  It wasn’t anything, but Margery’s such a cry-baby.  Lizzie, she’s terrible uncomfortable.”

Lydia’s attention had returned to little Patience.  “I’ll take her up to bed,” she said, “it won’t take but a few minutes.”

“I’ll carry her,” said Lizzie.

The baby opened her eyes.  “No, no one cally but Lyd.”

“Let Daddy carry you,” begged Amos.

Patience’s little voice rose to a wail.  “No one cally but Lyd.”

“You don’t have to be so polite,” sniffed Lydia, “I carry her all the time.”

She lifted the sleepy baby easily and Patience dropped her soft cheek against Lydia’s and closed her eyes again.  Lydia turned to Marshall.  Her face was very serious.