. . . . . . .
Mary and Skeleton and Chops, with others, were on the beach when, through the surf, the rescuing boat sped in and grounded. The two men leapt quickly out and dragged her high and dry, then, to poor Lotty's horror and anguish, the apparently lifeless body of Frank Antony Blake was lifted out and laid on the sand.
One of his arms fell right over a tuft of green benty grass whereon a bush of sea-pinks was blooming. It looked as if in death he was hugging the flowers.
'He is dead!'
That was Biffins's remark. And he stood there callous-looking, touching the body with his toe.
The terrible truth is that this matter-of-fact gipsy was wondering how much he would get for the 'Gipsy Queen' caravan when he resold her.
'No—no—fa—father, he is not dead!'
Lotty could hardly speak for the time being. She felt choking, and tore at her neck, while her face grew hot and flushed.
But in a few seconds she gasped and recovered self-possession. She now remembered that she had a book in the caravan which gave instructions how to restore the apparently drowned. Part of the instructions she could repeat, and did to the men.
'Do that,' she cried, 'till I come back with the book.'