Jack's eyes opened and he looked round him with a puzzled air.
"What's happened? Where's Aunt Betty? I'm all wet," he said.
"It's only a little water I sprinkled on your face," answered Mrs. Kenyon, seized with an insane desire to laugh.
Then, moved by a passion of emotion that swept over her like a flood, she took the little boy in her arms and covered him with kisses.
Jack struggled for freedom, not best pleased with this outburst of affection from a stranger.
"I think, please, now I'll get up and go home to Aunt Betty," he said, but as he spoke the door opened and Aunt Betty with a halo of ruffled hair fringing her forehead came towards him, an undefined fear written in her eyes.
"Jack, Jack, my darling!" was all she said.
Jack held out his arms to her, his face all quivering with the relief of her presence, and to his own great annoyance began to cry. The shock to his system was finding a natural outlet, and he was the only person that regretted the tears.
He was far from feeling a hero as Betty took him home, for Aunt Betty was always a little vexed with him when he cried.
"I didn't mean to cry; I didn't really. My head aches and I feel rather sick. You don't think me a baby, Aunt Betty?"