“’Twas nothing!” he kept saying awkwardly, turning redder and redder at each congratulation, and looking from side to side for a loophole of escape. Then, as Hugh came rushing up with an eager “What is it?”—“That mischievous loon Hal! If I can but lay hands on him!”
“Hath he set anyone on fire?”
“Ay, young Mistress Tirell. Nay, mistress, prithee think not of it—my hands will be well to-morrow—’tis nothing, Mistress Thomasin—Hugh,” (aside), “get me out of this, for I never felt such a fool!”
But there was no escape for Wat. Hal, having been caught, and received summary punishment from his master, was sent home, and the party sat down again, some to go on with Prothasy’s good things, and Thomasin to recover a little from her condition. Nothing would serve but that Wat must sit down, too, between Thomasin and her elder sister, Alice, and there he was more confused than ever by faltered thanks, and grateful glances of the blue eyes.
“How was it?” asked Alice, whispering across him.
“Alack, I know not!” said the other girl, shuddering. “I felt something hot under my elbow, and looked down, and there was a line of flame darting up, and then I screamed, and then—” to Wat—“you came.”
“I was too rough,” stammered Wat, “but then I always am a bear.”
“A bear! Nay, it was to save my life.”
“It was all past in a minute,” said Alice.
“But thy hands. I hope mother has bound them up skilfully. Is the pain great?”