He had no further thought for what was passing on the verandah outside. Tommy had said that Peter was bitten, but there were three people to look after him, whereas Tessa—poor brave mite—had only himself. He chafed her icy cheeks and hands with a desperate sense of impotence.
He was rewarded after what seemed to him an endless period of suspense. A tinge of colour came into the white lips, and the closed eyelids quivered and slowly opened. The bluebell eyes gazed questioningly into his.
"Where—where is Scooter?" whispered Tessa.
"Not far away, dear," he made answer soothingly. "We will go and find him presently. Drink another little drain of this first!"
She obeyed him almost mechanically. The shadow of a great horror still lingered in her eyes. He gathered her closely to him.
"Try and get a little sleep, darling! I'm here. I'll take care of you."
She snuggled against him. "Am I going to stay all night!" she asked.
"Perhaps, little one, perhaps!" He pressed her closer still. "Quite comfy?"
"Oh, very comfy; ever—so—comfy," murmured Tessa, closing her eyes again. "Dear—dear Uncle St. Bernard!"
She sank down in his hold, too spent to trouble herself any further, and in a very few seconds her quiet breathing told him that she was fast asleep.