THE REDEMPTION OF ANTHONY
and at sight of her mother she sprang up joyfully.
"Why, mother, how nice of you to come! Sit down here"—she pushed a big chair up—"and we can talk."
Mrs. Martin let herself be pushed into the chair, and a pillow placed behind her head, then Priscilla sat down cross-legged on the hearth, facing her.
"Wasn't it too lovely, all of it? I'm just trying to begin at the beginning, and remember everything everybody said to me, and how many times I was favored."
Mrs. Martin smiled. "I'm glad you had such a good time. You were a great success, Priscilla. I prophesy that you will be a belle."
"Me a belle? Oh, mother, how could I be?"
"Modesty is a sort of a disease with you, dear."
"I might be just because I'm your daughter, but not because I'm me," she said, leaning her cheek against her mother's hand.
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