“Aunt Jane! Oh, I’ve lost such a bit of aralia. Where’s Davy?”
“Here, take care. He is all right,” were Gerald’s words.
_He_ meant Adrian, whom his cousin lifted out, with eyes open and conscious, but with limp hands and white exhausted looks, to be carried to the fly that stood in waiting.
“Is the other boy safe?” asked Gerald anxiously.
“Oh yes; but how could you?” were the first words that came to Anna; but she felt rebuked by a strange look of utter surprise, and instead of answering her he replied to General Mohun--
“Thanks, no, I’ll walk up!” as a rough coat was thrown over his dripping and scanty garments.
“The wisest way,” said the General. “Can you, Fergus?”
“He has been half crying all the way home about his fossils,” said Gerald. “Never mind, Fergus; look out for the next spring-tide. Uncle Clem, you ought to drive up.”
Clement submitted, clearly unable to resist, and sat down by Anna, who had her brother in her arms, rubbing his hands and warming them, caressing him, and asking him how he felt, to which the only answer she got was--
“It was beastly. I have my mouth awfully full of water still.”
Clement made a low murmur of thanksgiving, and Anna, looking up, was startled to see how white and helpless he was. The way was happily very short, but he had so nearly fainted that Gerald, hurrying on faster uphill than the horse to reassure his aunt, lifted him out, not far from insensible, and carried him with Sibby’s help to his bed in the room on the ground-floor, where the remedies were close at hand, Geraldine and nurse anxiously administering them; when the first sign of revival he gave was pointing to Gerald’s dripping condition, and signing to him to go and take care of himself.
“All right, yes, boys and all! All right Cherie.”
And he went, swallowing down the glass of stimulant which his aunt turned from her other patient for a moment to administer, but she was much too anxious about Clement to have thought for any one else, for truly it did seem likely that he would be the chief sufferer from the catastrophe.
Little Davy’s adventure, as he had lost no clothes, made no more impression on his parents than if he had been an amphibious animal or a water dog, and when Fergus came out of Beechwood Cottage after having changed the few clothes he had retained, and had a good meal, to be driven home with his uncle in the dog-cart, his constant henchman was found watching for news of him at the gate.