“To be sure I did.”
“Then there’s a threepenny-piece for you,” said Ned. “I haven’t got any more.”
“Then you put it back in your pocket, my lad, to buy something for your little sis. I don’t want to be paid for that.”
“You wait till his poor Mar comes home,” cried Cook excitedly, “and I’m sure she’ll give you a bit of gold.”
“Nay,” growled the man. “I’ve got bairns of my own. I don’t want to be paid. Yes, I do,” he said quickly; “will you give me a kiss, little one, for pulling brother out?”
Tizzy’s face lit up with smiles, as she held up her hands to be caught up, and the next moment her little white face was pressed against a brown one, her arms closing round the bargeman’s neck, as she kissed him again and again.
“Thank you, thank you, sir,” she babbled. “It was so good of you, and I love you very, very much.”
“Hah!” sighed the man, as he set her down softly. “Now take brother’s hand and run home with him to get some dry clothes. Morning, missus. He won’t hurt.”
He turned away sharply and went back to his barge, from which he looked at the little party running across the meadow, Cook sobbing and laughing as she held the children’s hands tightly in her own.
“And such a great, big, ugly man, ma’am,” Cook said to her mistress, when she was telling all what had passed.