Both resented his making light of injuries so sensational as theirs; and Robert released his voice in an intolerable howl. “There is, too! An’ if I got to die——”
“Stop that!” Renfrew commanded. “How many times must I tell you? You’re not any more likely to die than I am!”
With that he was aware of a furious maiden entering the gate and running toward them across the lawn, and even as she sped, completing a hasty “putting up” of her hair.
“If he isn’t ‘likely to die,’ ” she cried, “I’d be glad to know whose fault it is! Not yours, I think, Renfrew Mears!”
At sight of his sister, Master Eliot bellowed anew; he wanted to tell his troubles all over again; but emotion in the presence of sympathy was too much for him; and once more he became all vowels, so that nothing definite could be gathered. Muriel clasped him to her. “Poor darling Bobby!” she said. “Don’t cry, darling! Sister’ll take care of you!”
“Here,” said Renfrew, proffering a fresh handkerchief. “Be careful. His nose isn’t quite——”
She took the handkerchief and applied it, but gave the donor no thanks. “I never in all my life saw anything like it!” she exclaimed. “I never saw anything to compare with it!”
“Why, it didn’t amount to so very much,” Renfrew said mildly, though he was surprised at her vehemence. “The children were playing, and they got to teasing, and Robert got tapped on the——”
“ ‘Tapped!’ ” she cried. “He might have been killed! But what I meant was you!”
“Me?”