“There, how very annoying!” exclaimed Rachel, “though, of course, the smallest adventure does travel.”
“I may venture to hope that neither are you drowned, nor my sister’s leg broken, nor a celebrated professor and essayist ‘in a high fever wi’ pulling any of you out of the sea.’”
“There, Grace,” exclaimed Rachel; “I told you he was something distinguished.”
“My dear Rachel, if his celebrity be in proportion to the rest of the story.”
“Then there really was a rescue!” exclaimed Captain Keith, now with much more genuine anxiety; and Rachel recollecting her desire that the right version should have the precedence, quickly answered, “There was no danger, only Don slipped down into that curved cove where we walked one day with the boys. I went down after him, but he had broken his leg. I could not get up with him in my arms, and Bessie called some one to help me.”
“And why could not Bessie help you herself?”
“Oh! strangers can never climb on our slippery rocks as we can.”
“Moreover, it would have spoilt the predicament,” muttered the brother to himself; then turning round with a smile, “And is the child behaving herself?”
Grace and Rachel answered in a eager duet how she was charming every one, so helpful, so kind, so everything.
“Ah!” he said with real satisfaction, apparent in the eyes that were so pleasant when open wide enough to be visible; “I knew she always did better when I was not there.”