In Tarpaulin and oilskins she did not look like a Judith. Easily she might have been a Joseph or a James. So it was not really to be wondered at that the little girl in the dainty clothes--the little girl from The Hotel--should say, "Why!" "Why!" Then, as if catching herself up at the impoliteness of such a little word in such a surprised tone--"I mean, please excuse me for thinking you were a boy," the little Dainty One had added, in considerable embarrassment. And Judith had laughed--Judith's laughs were rare, but the crisp, salty brightness of the sea was always in them. The sea was in everything about Judith.…
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