He punted the boat to a shallow flight of steps, oozy with slime, that led to the bank above, where his cottage was.
“We’ll carry the gal to it,” said he. “See if she can move herself.”
I bent down over the prostrate figure. It looked curiously youthful and slender in its soaked and clinging garments.
“Dolly,” I whispered, “there’s a fire above. Will you let me carry you to it?”
I thought my voice might not penetrate to her dulled senses, but to my wonder she put her arms round my neck immediately.
“Yes,” she moaned, “I’m so cold. Take me to the warmth or I shall die.”
We lifted her out between us and carried her into the house kitchen. There a goodly blaze went coiling up the chimney, and the sight was reviving in itself.
“Shall we leave you here alone a bit?” said I, “to rest and recover? There’s to be no more of the river for us. We’ll walk the distance that remains.”
She gave me a quick glance, full of a pathetic gratitude, and whispered, “Yes; I’d better be alone.”
“And if you take my advice,” said our host, “you’ll strip off them drownded petticuts and wrap yourself in a blanket I’ll bring you while they’re a-drying; wait, while I fetch it.”