“None of them knew ’cept you and me I risked my life for you, and you risked your life for me.”
“Yes, yes,” whispered Harriet back; “but none of the others must know. Don’t say those words so loud, Ralph, or they will hear us.”
Ralph snuggled close to Harriet, now in an ecstasy at the thought which the great secret they held between them caused. The rest of the day’s programme was carried out in all its entirety. But towards evening, Ralph’s feverish symptoms had increased. During the picnic tea he was unable to eat anything, and Harriet when questioned had to confess that her throat was sore.
The next day both Harriet and Ralph were ill, but Harriet was much worse than Ralph. To be in bed, to be unable to get up and enjoy the fresh air and the sunshine was a trial very hard for so small a boy as Ralph to bear; but when he was told that Harriet was worse than he, and that the doctor had to be sent for, he submitted to his own illness with a good grace. It was Robina who brought him the tidings.
“Harriet is really ill,” she said; “but Dr Fergusson says that you will very soon be all right again; you have only caught a little cold: I wonder how you managed it.”
“Oh, I know quite well all about it,” said Ralph.
“Do you, dear? then you ought to tell us,” said Robina.
Ralph’s soft brown eyes flashed with anger.
“Does you think I’d be so mean?” he said.
Robina looked at him in surprise. After a long time he made the following remark: