“Much better; I think he will be up by and by,” answered Mrs. Grinstead.
“What bosh have you got there? The reporters seized on their prey, eh?”
“There’s Sir Jasper!” exclaimed Anna, who could see through the blinds from where she sat.
Sir Jasper had driven over with his little son, and, after leaving him at school, had come to inquire for Mr. Underwood, and to obtain a fuller account of the accident, having already picked up a paper and glanced at it.
“I am afraid my little scamp led them into the danger,” he said. “Scientific taste forsooth! Science is as good a reason as anything else for getting into scrapes.”
“Really,” said Gerald, “I can’t say I think your boy came out the worst in it, though I must own the Rockquay Advertiser bestows most of the honours of the affair on the youthful baronet! You say he blew his own trumpet,” added Gerald, turning to Anna.
“The reporter came and beset us,” said Anna, in a displeased voice. “I did not hear all that passed, but of course Adrian told him what he told me, only those people make things sound ridiculous.”
“To begin with,” said Gerald, “I don’t think Fergus, or at any rate Davy Blake, was in fault. They tried to go home in good time, having an instinct for tides, but Adrian was chasing a sea-mouse or some such game, and could not be brought back, and then he fell over a slippery rock, and had to be dragged out of a hole, and by that time the channel of the Anscombe stream was too deep, at least for him, who has been only too carefully guarded from being amphibious.”
“Oh! that did not transpire at home,” said Sir Jasper. “Boys are so reserved.”
Mrs. Grinstead and Anna looked rather surprised. Anna even ventured—