The color stole back into Kit’s face. Perhaps if he had sympathized with her, she might have broken down, but as it was, she looked up into Frank’s eyes almost appealingly.
“I’m awfully sorry,” she began, but Frank stopped her with a laugh, as he rolled her up tighter in another blanket.
“I’m the doctor here now,” he said, “and you’ll have to mind. I guess if I carry you, we can get you home somehow. The sooner you’re in bed, the better.”
Mrs. Craig, Jean and Doris were just coming along the road when they saw the startling procession coming up from the river bank, Frank carrying the blanketed figure and Billie bringing up the rear.
“Why, Mother,” Jean exclaimed, “someone’s been hurt.”
“She’s all right,” called Frank, cheerily. “Just took a dip in the river, Mrs. Craig. If you’ll go ahead, please, and get a bed ready, I’ll bring her up.”
Kit’s eyes were closed. He had told her to put her arms around his neck so that he could carry her easier up the hill. Just as they got to the porch steps he said, under his breath, “Are you OK, Kit?”
She nodded her head slowly and opened her eyes. “Thank you for getting me out,” she whispered, with a shyness absolutely new to her. “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 upstairs, Frank,” called Jean. “Mother’s telephoning to Dr. Gallup, but I suppose the danger’s all past now. Kit, you big dope, 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 corncrib, Frank.”
Frank smiled, a curious reminiscent smile, as he laid his burden down on the bed.