Those two women did scream, and no mistake, when they felt it going; and I heard Miss Adela's frightened "Oh! Oh! Oh!" joining in from the shore. Nurse held on gallantly to the upturned cart; but Mrs. Crane floundered about in the water loosely, like a great walrus; though of course nobody ever told her so afterwards. Just there the pond wasn't deeper than up to her waist; but she had no presence of mind for finding her feet or standing up; and if I had not been at hand, it is as likely as not that she would have been drowned, out of sheer fright and helplessness.
Well, I pulled and tugged her to shore somehow, she spluttering and screaming as much as she had breath for; and she did look a woeful-looking object, to be sure, all streaming with water and streaked with green slime: and her best bonnet was a wonderful sight. Next I went after Nurse, and brought her out too. She had managed to keep her head and shoulders dry, by not losing all her wits. The question in my mind, as I helped Nurse to land, was, what in the world to do with them next? For there was the cart to be righted, and the pony to be seen to; and Miss Adela was looking like a ghost; and we were near three miles from home; and Mrs. Crane was declaring that nothing in the world should ever make her sit behind that pony again; and yet if she and Nurse couldn't get into dry clothes quickly, it might cost them their lives.
[CHAPTER XV.]
AN IMPROVED STATE OF THINGS.
MILES' STORY—(continued).
JUST as I got to shore, helping Nurse, and looking down to choose her steps for her, I heard a sort of shout—half laughter, half astonishment. "Oh! I say!"—and then Miss Adela crying out,—"O Bertie! Bertie!" And I saw Mr. Bertram holding Miss Adela, and trying to comfort her; with his face all the time full of mischief, and yet in a way concerned too, as he kept looking away from Miss Adela to Mrs. Crane, who seemed dreadfully ashamed and flurried, and all in a shake, and not far from hysterics. Miss Adela had begun to sob, clinging to him tight.
"But how in the world did it happen?" said Mr. Bertram, after a good lot of exclamations on both sides, for which he wasn't much the wiser. "And how is it you're not wet, Addie? As dry as a bone!"
I told him, quick as I could, about the way things had come about, and asked him what was to be done,—Nurse standing by, pretty patient, while Mrs. Crane kept groaning, "O dear! O dear!" in a way that was interrupting, to say the least. She put in her word, before Mr. Bertram could answer me, which wasn't like her usual respectful ways; but when a woman has been floundering in slimy green water, wearing her best new Sunday bonnet, it isn't a wonder if for once she should forget herself a little. "She wasn't going to sit behind that pony again," she said. "No! never! not if she knew it! A horrid little ill-conditioned brute! He'd be the death of somebody some day! She wouldn't be driven any more—no, never! She would just walk home,— yes, exactly as she was."
"I say, Crane, you'll catch your death of cold, if you stand there speechifying," said Mr. Bertram. "Nothing is less likely than your having to sit behind the pony again at present, in that particular cart! You and Nurse must hurry off sharp to Brooks' farm—you know the way—it's not half a mile. Be as quick as you can, and get your wet things off, and go to bed, or roll yourselves up in blankets, whichever you like."
"Miss Adela, sir?" said Nurse, shaking.