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Those who had always known her did not dream of what lay back of that sweet girl-face. She was the belle of Springvale, and she had too many admirers for any suspicion of the truth to find a place. While the story ran on Bud turned to her and said in a low voice, "Marjie, I'm going to Phil. He needth me now."
"What he needth ith water," Bud declared. "I'll bet he'th not had a drop for two dayth." "How can you get some, Bud? We can't reach the river from here," I said. "Bah! all mud, anyhow. I'll climb till I find a thpring. They're all around in the rockth. The Lord give Motheth water. I'll hunt till He thoweth me where it ith." Bud put off in the bushes.
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