"She is getting on—only feels shivery and queer; but I should think a cup of coffee would put her right. Isn't it strange?—A lot of Fulvie's hair is all frizzled up with the fire, and yet her face isn't touched; not even the eyelashes burnt."
"Can't think how on earth the thing happened."
"Oh, it was Mr. Bramble, I know. I saw his cigar-end drop there, when he threw it away; and then I forgot all about it, we were having such a lot of fun. I wish I hadn't!"
Mr. Carden-Cox shook his head mutely. If any one but his favourite Daisy had been speaking, he would have read her a homily on thoughtlessness.
"Yes, I know—it was dreadfully stupid," Daisy said, her eyes filling. "I can't think how I could. But when Mr. Bramble tried to make out that it was a spark from the engine, I had to bite my lips not to speak. Wasn't it horrid of him not to help, but only to stand staring? Of course everybody couldn't jump into the river—needn't, at least—but he might have wanted to help. Malcolm was only one second behind Nigel; and he would have been in too, if you hadn't kept him back."
"I keep him back! Tut, tut, child! He didn't go in because it was not necessary."
Daisy's brown eyes opened to their widest extent. "Oh, I say, how unfair! Poor Malcolm! When you tugged at him with all your might and main, and wouldn't let go."
A dim recollection of facts came across Mr. Carden-Cox. "Well, well—it doesn't matter now," he said. "Malcolm would have acted if Nigel had not."
"And Anice and Rose ran away. I think that was so cowardly," said Daisy, with the stern condemnation of sixteen. "If I had been near, I would have made Fulvie lie down, and have tried to put out the fire. But the first thing I knew was the screaming, and then I saw the blaze, and Nigel going across with such a leap. And I felt so odd—as if somehow I couldn't stir for Just a moment—and then it was all done. Shall I tell Fulvie to come before the tea gets cold?"
Mr. Carden-Cox offered no objection.