She was quite as active and strong as he, and clambered from rock to rock and over the shattered scantling of the flume with the vigor and agility of a young boy.

She muddied her shoes to the very tops scratched her hands, tore her skirt, and even twisted her ankle; but her little eyes were never so bright, nor was the pink flush of her cheeks ever more adorable.
And she was never done talking--a veritable chatterbox.

She saw everything and talked about everything she saw, quite indifferent as to whether or no Condy listened.

Now it was a queer bit of seaweed, now it was a group of gulls clamoring over a dead fish, now a purple starfish, now a breaker of unusual size.

Her splendid vitality carried her away.