"Help! help! he has insulted my daughter."
Billy mounted the stairway in three jumps, a feat he had not performed in twenty years, and when he entered the room Mrs. Bays pointed majestically to the man kneeling by Rita's bed.
"Take that man from my house, Mr. Little," cried Mrs. Bays in a sepulchral, judicial tone of voice. "He broke into her room and insulted my sick daughter when she was unconscious."
Dic remained upon his knees by the bedside, and did not fully grasp the meaning of his accuser's words. Billy stepped to Rita's side, and taking her unresisting hand hastily sought her pulse. Then he spoke gruffly to Mrs. Bays, who had wrought herself into a spasm of injured virtue.
"She has fainted," cried Billy. "Fetch cold water quickly, and a drop of whiskey."
Mrs. Bays hastened downstairs, and Dic followed her.
"Get the whiskey," he cried. "I'll fetch the water," and a few seconds thereafter Billy was dashing cold water in Rita's face. The great brown eyes opened, and the half-conscious girl, thinking that Dic was still leaning over her, lifted her arms and gave poor old Billy a moment in paradise, by entwining them about his neck. He enjoyed the delicious sensation for a brief instant, and said:—
"I'm Billy Little, Rita, not Dic." Then the eyes opened wider as consciousness returned, and she said:—
"I thought Dic was here."
"Yes—yes, Rita," said Dic, "I am here. I was by your side a moment since. I came so suddenly upon you that you fainted; then Billy Little took my place."