`` 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 would n't like it if she knew . '' `` I 'll tell my mother all about it -- and Miss Oliver -- and Walter , '' Rilla gasped between sniffs . `` You sat for hours with Miller Douglas on that lobster trap , Mary Vance ! What would Mrs. Elliott say to that if she knew ? '' `` Oh , I 'm not going to quarrel with you , '' said Mary , suddenly retreating to high and lofty ground . `` All I say is , you should wait until you 're grown-up before you do things like that . '' Rilla gave up trying to hide the fact that she was crying . Everything was spoiled -- even that beautiful , dreamy , romantic , moonlit hour with Kenneth on the sands was vulgarized and cheapened . She loathed Mary Vance . `` Why , whatever 's wrong ? '' cried mystified Mary . `` What are you crying for ? '' `` My feet -- hurt so -- '' sobbed Rilla clinging to the last shred of her pride . It was less humiliating to admit crying because of your feet than because -- because somebody had been amusing himself with you , and your friends had forgotten you , and other people patronized you . `` I daresay they do , '' said Mary , not unkindly . `` Never mind . I know where there 's a pot of goose-grease in Cornelia 's tidy pantry and it beats all the fancy cold creams in the world .
I 'll put some on your heels before you go XXXXX bed . ''
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