He held Anna away from him, and looked at her face.
It was red and green in streaks, and her eyes were red and inflamed. The
father was startled by her appearance.
"What is the matter, dear child?" he said. "You are ill."
Then his eyes fell on her apron. Its crumpled state, and the red and
green smears on it, showed the use to which it had been put, and he
began to guess what had happened.
Anna hung her head.
"I was crying and I leaned against a tree. Oh, dear, it was a clean
apron! Aunt will be vexed."
Her father sighed, but he pitied her confusion.
"Why did you cry, my child?" he said, half-tenderly, half in rebuke.
"Aunt Christina means well, though she speaks abruptly."
He only provoked fresh tears, but Anna tried so hard to keep them back
that she was soon calm again.
"I am not vexed with Aunt Christina for scolding me," she said; "I
deserved it; I am sorry for myself."
"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "we cannot expect old heads on young
shoulders." His honest, sunburned face was slightly troubled as he
looked at her. "You will have to brush up a bit, you know, when
Christina goes to Zurich. You are going to be left in charge of the
house for a week or so."
Anna pressed her hands nervously together. She felt that the house would
suffer greatly under her guidance; but then, she should have her father
all to herself in her aunt's absence, and she should be freed from those
scathing rebukes which made her feel all the more clumsy and helpless
when they were uttered in her father's presence.
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