Nancy looked up at her father, with blue wet eyes, her chest heaving still, and her lips quivering. "Yes, father, it's quite true," she sobbed. "I'm not hurt. But I should have been—if—if—O father, he saved me! I should have been bitten but for him!"
Dunn grasped Archie's hand, and turned his face away, unable to express what he felt. And none who know what true manliness is will think one whit the worse of that strong working-man for the big tears upon his cheeks, drawn forth by the thought of his child's peril.
"Tell me about it," he said huskily, after a pause.
Mrs. Mason had just then walked in, but nobody took any notice of her. She said nothing, only lifting her hands and eyes with gestures of mute astonishment, and then bringing a mug of water to Nancy, which helped to check her sobbing.
Archie was by no means unwilling to "tell all about it." He did not wish to exalt unduly his own courage, but of course he knew that he had been courageous, and he felt much gratification in having saved somebody—especially pretty Nancy Dunn—from a great danger.
So he narrated what had occurred, neither underrating nor overrating his own share in the matter. Nancy tearfully corroborated his tale, even to the snap of the dog's jaws after Archie's heel, which she had distinctly heard.
"Words can't thank you, my lad. If ever there's anything I can do for you,—if it were with my last shilling,—I'd do it!" Dunn said fervently. And then, taking off his cap, which he had hitherto forgotten to remove, Dunn added, in a reverent voice:
"Thank God for His great mercy!"
Susan had neither stirred nor spoken hitherto, and as yet no one had particularly noticed her stunned look. But now Mrs. Mason went to her side with the mug of water, and made her drink some. And Susan at length looked up, saying in a hollow voice, "I shall never trust her out of my sight again."
"There! There! There! Poor dear! It's given her such a turn, you see," Mrs. Mason remarked soothingly, patting Susan on the back, and looking round at everybody present.