"Oh!" she sighed, with a long inspiration of relief, for the life of her brave defender had become precious in her eyes.
The Doctor had absent-mindedly brought his rifle into the room, and was much troubled with it, not caring to shock Lillie with the fact that he had been personally engaged. He held it behind his back with one hand, after the manner of a naughty boy who has been nearly detected in breaking windows, and who still has a brickbat in his fist which he dares not show, and cannot find a chance to hide. He was slyly setting it against the wall when she discovered it.
"What!" she exclaimed. "Have you been fighting, too? You dear, darling, wicked papa!"
She kissed him violently, and then laughed hysterically.
"I thought you were up to some mischief all the while," she added. "You were gone a dreadful time, and I screaming and looking out for you. Papa, you ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"I have reason to be. I am the most disgraceful ignoramus. I don't know how to load my gun. I think I must have put the bullet in wrong end first. The ramrod won't go down."
"Well, put it away now. You don't want it any more. You must take care of the wounded."
"Wounded!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Are there any wounded?"
"Oh dear! several of them. I forgot to tell you. They are to bring them in here. I am going to our trunks to get some linen."