At this woeful picture of himself, Chris's grief, which had become slightly subdued, burst forth afresh, and as we entered the hall he sobbed more loudly and more violently than before. So loudly and so violently that the sound of his grief penetrated to the library where Granny was sitting, and brought her out into the hall, frightened and anxious to know what was wrong.
"He nearly drowned himself, that's what is the matter, mum," answered Briggs, with a certain gloomy satisfaction, in reply to the old lady's anxious questions. "It's nothing but a chance he isn't at the bottom of the deepest end of the pond at this very same minute that I speak to you!"
At this startling, not to say overwhelming statement, Granny became quite white, and, holding on to a chair near at hand, did not speak.
"There is nothing for you to alarm yourself about, Mrs. Wyndham," I said quietly.—"Chris, stop crying; you are frightening Granny.—He managed to fall into the pond, trying to teach Jack to swim, but it was at the shallow end, so there was no danger."
Thus reassured, Granny looked at me with relief.
"Thank God!" she said earnestly, as she kissed the little beggar thankfully, all wet and tear-stained as he was.
Then, with an attempt to control her emotion, but speaking in a voice that trembled in spite of herself:
"Come, come," she said to Briggs, "we must not waste time in talking. We must put Master Chris to bed at once, and get him warm. See how he shivers. Yes, come upstairs at once, my darling, and I will hear all about it by and by."
And, together with Briggs and the cause of all the confusion, she went upstairs to take precautions for the prevention of the ill consequences likely to follow upon his rash deed. It was some time before she came downstairs again, and when she did so she looked worried.
"I am afraid, very much afraid, he has caught a chill," she remarked. "He so easily does that."