The barometer showed a frightful elevation. Little looked up at the valve and said nothing. Presently he heard a sigh. Then a sob. Then, rather sharply,—
“Why don’t you do something?”
CHAPTER VIII
Little came up the rope hand over hand. Lady Caroline crouched in the farther side of the car. Fido, the poodle, whined.
“Poor thing,” said Lady Caroline, “it’s hungry.”
“Do you wish to save the dog?” said Little.
“Yes.”
“Give me your parasol.”
She handed Little a good-sized affair of lace and silk and whalebone. (None of your “sunshades.”) Little examined its ribs carefully.