They splashed down like rain into the kettle as she scraped away at the scorched places on the bottom.
It was a long time before she went back to her room.

Ethelinda looked up curiously.
"Where's your candy ?" she asked.
"Spoiled.

It scorched and I had to throw it out." Her face was turned away, under pretence of searching for a book, but her voice was subdued and not altogether steady.
"Too bad," was the indifferent answer, and Ethelinda went on with her lesson, but presently a faint sniff made her glance up to see that Mary was not studying, only staring at her book with big tears dropping quietly on the page.

In all the weeks they had been together she had never seen Mary in this mood before, and it seemed as strange that she should be crying as that rain should drop from a cloudless sky.
The sight of Mary in trouble awakened a feeling that seldom came to the surface in Ethelinda.

She felt moved to pick her up and comfort her and put her out of harm's way as she would have done to a helpless little kitten.