Captain Bradshaw listened with eager interest, and Alice, whose cheek had paled when she first heard Prescott’s announcement of the risk Frank had run, flushed up with pleasure and excitement at the particulars. The story was just finished, and the questions which arose from it answered, when Frank came downstairs again.
“Well, Frank, Prescott here is telling us that you have been risking your life in the most reckless way, and becoming an amateur member of the Humane Society. Joking apart, my dear boy, it was a very plucky thing, and the speed with which it had to be done shows that you have a cool head as well as a strong arm and good pluck.”
“What a fellow you are, Prescott!” Frank said, in a tone of indignant remonstrance, and colouring up as a girl might have done. “Prescott has been making a mountain out of a molehill, uncle. A man slipped down, and I picked him up. It was a mere impulse; nothing could be simpler or more natural.”
“Stuff and nonsense, Frank! you saved the man’s life; it showed pluck and presence of mind, and the fact that you were knocked down speaks for itself what a very near thing it was. I am proud of you, my boy, and so is Alice, ain’t you, Alice?”
“I think it was very brave of Frank,” Alice Heathcote said, quietly—much more quietly, indeed than might have been expected from the previous glow of enthusiasm upon her face. “Who was the man you picked up, and did he tell you his name?”
“He seemed a poor nervous sort of creature, and hardly knew whether he stood upon his head or his heels, after he was safe on the pavement. As to who he was, I have got his card; here it is—
STEPHEN WALKER,
TOBACCONIST,
Stationery of all kinds at the lowest prices.
Newspapers and periodicals punctually supplied.