“Where is it?” he cried.
“Where’s what?” rejoined Clare, leaving the bellows, and taking a hold of him lest he should fall off.
“The head that flew out of the water-butt,” answered Tommy with a shudder.
“Have you lost your senses, Tommy?” remonstrated Clare. “I found you lying on a heap of old iron against the wall, with the moon shining on you.”
“Yes, yes!—the moon! She jumped out of the water-butt, and got a hold of me as I was getting down. I knew she would!”
“I didn’t think you were such a fool, Tommy!” said Clare.
“Well, you hadn’t the pluck to go yourself! You stopt in!” cried Tommy, putting his hand to his head, but more sorely hurt that an idiot should call him a fool.
“Come and let me see, Tommy,” said Clare.
He wanted to find out if he was much hurt; but Tommy thought he wanted to go to the water-butt, and screamed.
“Hold your tongue, you little idiot!” cried Clare. “You’ll have all the world coming after us! They’ll think I’m murdering you!”