“No, no; you goose, I didn’t; well, anyhow, he tumbled into the water where it was pretty deep too; and he would have sunk, poor little man, for there are such a lot of weeds about just there—only of course I was close by, and I rushed down to the edge of the pond and flung myself in, and swam out to him. I saved him—oh, it was quite easy; he was not even unconscious when I got him out of the water; only of course we were both drenched to the skin.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jane. “It seemed a horrid mean thing to do, and you speak as though it was something fine.”
“Ralph thinks it awfully fine. You see, he takes it in this way. He thinks he tried to get the lilies for me at the risk of his life.”
“That’s true enough,” said Jane.
“And that I saved him at the risk of mine.”
“Which is not a bit true,” said Jane, “for you can swim like a duck anywhere.”
“Ah, but Ralph does not know that, and there is no one who will dare to tell him. We both got ill afterwards, and I was more ill than Ralph, because I was longer in my dripping wet clothes; and now Ralph loves me much, much better than Robina, for you see I saved his life.”
“Oh! I think you are a horrid girl!” said Jane.
“Do you? do you? Well, perhaps you won’t think me quite so horrid when I get you invited here, say, for Christmas, and when we have a jolly, jolly time, with that old Mr Durrant safe in Africa and Ralph just obliged to put up with us. I’ll always be good to him, you may be sure of that, but I shan’t molly-coddle him: I’ll look after number one, see if I don’t.”
“All the same,” said Jane, “Robina is the one who will be invited to take care of Ralph, and you haven’t a chance.”