"Are you all right, Kit?"
She nodded her head slowly, and opened her eyes.
"Thank you for getting me out," she whispered, with a shyness absolutely new to the Kathleen of yore. "You don't know how I felt when I found myself caught down there, and couldn't get away. I thought that was just all."
"Bring her up-stairs, Stanley," called Jean. "Mother's telephoning to Dr. Gallup, but I suppose the danger's all past now. Kit, you big goose, what did you ever go in that boat alone for? The minute you're left alone, you're always up to something. Just like the day when she had you locked up in the corn-crib, Stanley."
Stanley smiled, a curious reminiscent smile, as he laid his burden down on the white bed by the window.
Probably only Kit heard his answer, for Jean had sped after hot ginger tea, and Helen and Doris were filling hot-water bottles, but Kit heard and smiled as he said:
"God bless the corn-crib."