"Bien! You are bleached for lack of sunshine, then."
"Mon Dieu, yes," said Carette. "I felt myself getting whiter every minute, and we were almost starving when Uncle George came. We had been days without food, you know, although you all say it is only Thursday;" and my mother smiled and began to spread the table, but we showed her it was only Carette's nonsense.
But if she was relieved on our account, she was still very anxious about her father.
"They are fighting over there, George," she said, looking anxiously out over the water to where Herm lay peacefully in the afternoon sunshine, and as we stood listening, the dull sound of guns came to us again. "That means that he got there all right?"
"Trust Philip to get there all right. And to come back all right too. I hope they'll make an end of them," said Uncle George stoutly.
"You can never tell what will happen when fighting's afoot," she sighed.
"He'll take care of himself. Don't you worry, Rachel."
"Shall I put a fresh bandage on your head? It is hurting you, I can see."
"No, no," he said hastily, and then, "Well, yes truly, it is hard and dry—if you will;" and she steeped his bandage in cold water and carefully bound up his head again. And all the time we were in mortal fear lest some chance word from one or the other should disclose that which was hidden in the cave, that which would blight her life again if it got out.