"Well, salamander, have you had fire enough?" asked Warwick, as he dashed a handful of water in her face with such energetic goodwill that it took her breath away.
"Yes, oh yes,—and of water, too! Please stop, and let me get my breath!" gasped Sylvia, warding off a second baptism and staring dizzily about her.
"Why did you quit the place where I left you?" was the next question, somewhat sternly put.
"I wanted to know what had happened."
"So you walked into a bonfire to satisfy your curiosity, though you had been told to keep out of it? You'd never make a Casabianca."
"I hope not, for of all silly children, that boy was the silliest, and he deserved to be blown up for his want of common sense," cried the girl, petulantly.
"Obedience is an old-fashioned virtue, which you would do well to cultivate along with your common sense, young lady."
Sylvia changed the subject, for Warwick stood regarding her with an irate expression that was somewhat alarming. Fanning herself with the wet hat, she asked abruptly—
"Was the man hurt, sir?"
"Yes."