"Beg-ad, it's to-morrow morning already!" said Tim, glancing at the clock. "Half-past twilve as I'm a sinner, an' here's Miss Lesbia an' mesilf sittin' up like the quality. Oh, the sowl av me, what will the masther say?"
"What can he say?" demanded Miss Hale tartly. "Father can't hold you and me accountable for the unexpected."
"Unexpected, indeed," breathed George. "Who would have thought that I would have been struck down on the towing-path. I can't guess the reason, Lesbia, it's beyond me."
"The crass! the crass!" muttered Tim, shaking his shaggy head.
"What do you know about it?" demanded Lesbia.
"Divil a thing, but that it brings bad luck," answered Tim sturdily.
"It is not altogether bad luck that George has been brought here for me to attend to him," she retorted.
"No, dear," Walker patted her hand, "this accident shows me what an angel you are. But how did I come here?"
"Don't you know who brought you?"
"I know nothing from the time I was struck down on the towing-path near Medmenham, until the moment I saw you standing in yonder doorway with a candle in your hand."