Tim had pulled on his boots over his wet stockings with some difficulty by this time, and was now kneeling to lace them up.
"Oh, I shan't catch cold!" he declared cheerfully.
"I hope not," said Kitty, her voice full of concern, "because if you did you might get pneumonia again. Oh, Tim, I haven't thanked you for what you've done."
"Please don't!" Tim interposed, adding—"I'm so glad I could swim!"
He rose from his knees as he spoke, and, meeting Kitty's eyes, still rather tearful, smiled at her.
"Oh," the little girl cried, "you don't know how grateful I feel to you."
"You're a brick, Tim—yes, a regular brick!"
[CHAPTER XIV.]
CONCLUSION.
"YOU'LL find me in the garden when you've finished your lessons," said Kitty, one evening, a few weeks later, as she poked her fair head around the dining-room door to address her brother, who was seated at the table, at work on his French translation. "I want to consult you about something," she added impressively.