“Haven’t got any to describe, father,” said Gwyn, merrily.
“Well, then, to satisfy your mother, how do you feel?”
“Ashamed of myself, father, for having had the doctor.”
“Exactly. He’s quite well, my dear. It was bad for him, of course; but a strong, healthy boy does not take long to recover from a long walk and some enforced abstinence— There, you can go, Gwyn, and—”
“Yes, father?” said the boy, for the Colonel paused.
“There’s young Jollivet coming over the hill, so Major Jollivet and I would feel greatly obliged if you two lads did not get into another scrape for some time to come.”
“Oh, I say,” cried Gwyn, “I do call that too bad. Isn’t it, mother? Father lets the Major take him down and get lost in the mine—”
“Nothing of the kind, sir. We found our way back—you did not.”
“And then when we go down,” continued Gwyn, without heeding his father’s words, “to try and find them, father calls it getting into a scrape.”
“Ah, well, never mind what I called it,” said the Colonel, smiling; “but be careful, please. We don’t want any more exploring.”