Without any thought of all that, she stood, resolute, tearful, and thoroughly wet through, while she hunted in her pocket for a penknife.
The nature of all knives is, not to be found; and Mary's knife was loyal to its kind.

Then she tugged at her pony, and pulled out his bit, and labored again at the obstinate strap; but nothing could be done with it.
Keppel must be drowned, and he did not seem to care, but to think that the object of his birth was that.

If the stupid little fellow would have only stepped forward, the hands of his mistress, though cramped and benumbed, might perhaps have unbuckled his stiff and sodden reins, or even undone their tangle; on the other hand, if he would have jerked with all his might, something or other must have given way; but stir he would not from one fatuous position, which kept all his head-gear on the strain, but could not snap it.

Mary even struck him with her heavy bag of stones, to make him do something; but he only looked reproachful.
"Was there ever such a stupid ?" the poor girl cried, with the water rising almost to her waist, and the inner waves beginning to dash over her, while the outer billows threatened to rush in and crush them both.
"But I will not abuse you any more, poor Keppel.

What will dear father say?
Oh, what will he think of it ?" Then she burst into a fit of sobs, and leaned against the pony, to support her from a rushing wave which took her breath away, and she thought that she would never try to look up any more, but shut her eyes to all the rest of it.