“No,” said Vane, quietly, as he leaped ashore with the chain; “we had a misfortune, and ran on one of those big stumps up the river.”
“Hey? What, up yonder by old brigg?”
“Yes.”
“Hang it all, lads, come into the cottage, and I’ll send on to fetch your dry clothes. Hey, but it’s a bad job. Mustn’t let you catch cold. Here, hi! Mrs Lasby. Kettle hot?”
“Yes, Mester,” came from the cottage.
“Then set to, and make the young gents a whole jorum of good hot tea.”
The miller hurried the little party into the cottage, where the kitchen-fire was heaped up with brushwood and logs, about which the boys stood, and steamed, drinking plenteously of hot tea the while, till the messenger returned with their dry clothes, and, after the change had been made, their host counselled a sharp run home, to keep up the circulation, undertaking to send the wet things back himself.