“But not nearly so wise,” interrupted Jenny again.
“Nor yet so talkative as young ladies; and if present company will excuse me, I should like some of them to be quiet,” said Oscar.
“Well, my boy, after the scream——” prompted Mr. Barlow.
“Well, if I did scream, after that there was a silence and the full stop, for I fell to the bottom; and when I came to my senses I was jolting along in a caravan—such jolting, and I full of pain and dizziness. That was a ride to town, and no mistake—Bulverton, the town was called, where they took me to a hospital.”
[p116]
“Who?” inquired irrepressible Jenny.
“The gipsies—I was in a gipsy caravan; they were passing the road at the bottom of the Leap, hurrying away from justice of some sort, I should say, and, hearing me moan, were humane enough to pick me up out of my snowy bed, and carry me along with them. By the time they reached Bulverton I was unconscious, in a high fever, and I don’t know what. They made it all right with the hospital people, somehow, that they had no hand in bringing me to the state I was in. I was terribly knocked about—a blow on my head, besides this on my forehead, a broken arm, and a good shaking generally. ’Twas a wonder I escaped with my life, the doctors told me, when I came out of my bad turn—you know the dodge, Mr. Barlow; you all make a miracle of what you do for sick people.” Mr. Barlow shook his fist at him.
“I kept who I was a secret, though, and wouldn’t tell my name. I didn’t want to make a fuss here, you know, but on the last morning it all came out. One of the doctors saw your description of me, uncle, and the police came ferreting me out as well, I believe; and so I’d nothing [p117] to do but throw off my disguise, and come home like a bad penny. I daresay you’ll have a bill, uncle, for sticking-plaster and so on.”
“Which I shall be happy to pay, Oscar,” said the grave doctor.
This was Oscar’s story. Well, the bill came from the Bulverton hospital, and was duly settled by Dr. Willett, and all things fell into their usual train, save that Oscar, being unfit for study, and Dick away at school, had rather a dull time of it.
The weather was glorious, and of course he roamed about, and went some excursions with Inna, Jenny, and the donkey and cart, the twins from the Owl’s Nest sometimes swelling the number; but an outing with a pack of girls, as he said, was but a very tame affair, and often he sighed for midsummer and Dick.