"Mind you, it doesn't do to believe all they tell you.
Don't let Ken Ford think that all he has to do to get you on a string is to drop his handkerchief.

Have more spirit than that, child." To be thus hectored and patronized by Mary Vance was unendurable! And it was unendurable to walk on stony roads with blistered heels and bare feet! And it was unendurable to be crying and have no handkerchief and not to be able to stop crying! "I'm not thinking"-- sniff--"about Kenneth"-- sniff--"Ford"-- two sniffs--"at all," cried tortured Rilla.
"There's no need to fly off the handle, child.

You ought to be willing to take advice from older people.

I saw how you slipped over to the sands with Ken and stayed there ever so long with him.

Your mother wouldn't like it if she knew." "I'll tell my mother all about it--and Miss Oliver--and Walter," Rilla gasped between sniffs.