"That would have been no worse, not a bit, for I haven't slept a wink worrying about you, neither has Ethel; indeed, the dear child has lost all her colour, as you see."
Bob looked at the younger lady, but found that her cheeks were warm with a charming little blush, which deepened as she avoided his glance.
"Oh, Aunt Jane," she said, "you really shouldn't exaggerate—I—"
"There now! I've done it again. I am always putting my foot in it. But all's well that ends well. You're here safe—but dear me, poor boy, you've lost your colour. We shall have to take care of you, I can see that."
"Oh, it's nothing," said Bob; "a rap over the head, that's all. I shall be right in a day or two."
"But you will let us do what we can," said Ethel. "We owe you so much, Mr. Fawcett, and there is so little that we can do."
Bob looked, as he felt, rather uncomfortable. Mrs. Pottle noted the fact.
"Don't go, Mr. Fawcett," she said with a smile. "There, I promise, you sha'n't hear another word of thanks. I knew it: you look quite relieved already."
Bob laughed, and the ladies joined him, while Ah-Sam looked on gravely, in evident wonder at what had caused the merriment.
"Can I do anything to help you on your way?" asked Bob. "I'm afraid I shall soon have to say good-bye."