"Aunt Barbara, do you know who's hurt?" asked Jessie.
Since blushing was to be taken for fever, and since she was already about as crimson as it was possible to be, the question might be ventured upon.
Miss Perkins offered no response.
"Because the boat was thrown up on the beach, and all of them were tossed out. And some were hurt, I know—poor Mr. Gilbert, and old Adams, oh, yes, and Jack Groates too. Was there anybody else? I do want to know how they're all getting on. And the poor woman off the wreck—was she killed?"
"She wasn't dead an hour ago. That's about all I know. And Adams was come to; and Mr. Gilbert's arm was enough to make a body sick to look at it. And Jack Groates is a silly fellow."
"Oh-h!"
"A silly fellow! That's what he is. He ought to have thought of his family." Miss Perkins always took a peculiar pleasure in saying exactly the opposite to what was expected of her. "A nice expense for them it'll be, to have him laid by with a broken leg for nobody knows how long. Shouldn't wonder if he never was able to walk straight again."
Jessie giggled anew faintly, as a picture arose in her mind of Jack sidling along, crab fashion.
"Well, I shouldn't. It's what they call a compound fracture. The bone was sticking right out," pursued Miss Perkins, with the relish of one who loved to deal in horrors. "Right out! And the setting of it 'ud be awful, they say. Serve him right, too! What must he meddle for? If he was a sailor—but he isn't! Ben Mokes is a deal more sensible."
"Ben Mokes is a horrid lazy selfish creature, and I can't bear him," Jessie cried, with almost a sob. "And Jack has behaved like a man; and you know he has, aunt Barbara."