“I can imagine you were pretty much used up, Ned,” answered Basil. “Not quite so safe as leading a german, was it?”
Edwin flushed up. “I’m not such a molly-coddle as to be scared,” he returned.
“I brought Ned down to make love to the mermaids,” put in Walter, teasingly. “I knew he wouldn’t feel quite comfortable unless there were some siren to listen to his pretty speeches; but I’m blest if he made any. The only thing I heard him say was,—what was it, Ned? Oh, yes,—‘I think this is real horrid!’” And Walter spoke mincingly, with a little dab of his hand at Basil.
“Oh, come off; I didn’t,” replied Edwin, gruffly, all his effeminacy gone in the face of his late experience.
“Yes, you did, Miss Nancy,” teased Walter. “I’ll bet a dollar you don’t go back with me.”
“I don’t intend to while there is room for me and better company,” retorted Edwin, with spirit.
“You’ll have to bunk in with us, then,” said Basil. “How are you going to manage to stow us away, Mrs. Chamberlaine?” to that lady, who entered the dining-room with a view to seeing if the appetites of the guests were satisfied.
“I’m afraid I shall have to ask Mr. Danforth to take in one of the gentlemen,” said Mrs. Chamberlaine, in reply, “and I can put up a cot, in your room, Mr. Phillips, for the other one. There is quite a comfortable little room over the wash-house for the man, Mr. Dixon.”
“That is a perfectly satisfactory arrangement so far as I am concerned,” declared Mr. Danforth. “My room is a spacious apartment, Ned, and the bed is as big as an ark. You can take your cousin in with you, Basil, and we shall all be as snug as possible.”
All this time Lisa was quite unconscious of what was going on below-stairs. She was comforting Ruth for the loss of Patience, telling her that she was not dead, only very much hurt, and that she thought it would be well to send her to a hospital, and when she returned she would be lovelier than ever, determining that a new head should be procured for Patience if such a thing were possible.