"You won't want me to tell, Sarah dear," went on Rosemary, still calmly, "but this time I think I'd better; because—well, because if there should be a next time and you should hurt yourself, I should be to blame. Besides, there is Shirley."
Warren drew a deep breath and Doctor Hugh sent a look toward Sarah that made that young person decidedly uncomfortable though she pretended to be absorbed in the antics of a beetle and sat down, cross-legged, to consider it.
"Then it was the windmill?" asked Warren.
"Yes, it was the windmill," nodded Rosemary, putting her arm around Shirley who was beginning to feel that her adored older sister had for once deserted her.
And then she told them, graphically and in detail, how she had found the two children on the platform and of the climbs she had made to bring them down safely.
"That part wasn't so bad, really it wasn't," she explained earnestly. "Though when Sarah's foot slipped—"
Warren looked at Doctor Hugh.
"But I keep thinking of that awful platform!" cried Rosemary, hiding her face against her brother's shoulder and tightening her arm about Shirley. "Every time I close my eyes I can see them there—and it is such a narrow space and they could have fallen off so easily—"
"Stop!" said Doctor Hugh sternly. "Stop that at once, Rosemary. You are letting your imagination run away with you. Closing your eyes and thinking what might have happened, will not do at all. You'll get the better of your nerves, if you try. Don't think what has happened and, above all, don't talk about it. Tag around after Warren and Rich to-day and keep so busy you haven't time to think—you'll find the worst is over now that you have told us."
Rosemary lifted her head. She was quite herself, her blue eyes told Warren. Under her arm, Shirley peeped uncertainly at her brother.