Alan unwrapped poor Curly, and Mrs. Shaw fetched a piece of blanket for him to lie on, and gave him a spoonful of brandy, Blanche holding his mouth open. They all watched him anxiously. He soon began to move a little, and in a few minutes he got up, stretched and shook himself, and then went to his mistress to be caressed.
Blanche hugged and kissed him with every expression of delight. She had hardly realized how precious her little pet had become until she so nearly lost him. But Curly had been in Mrs. Shaw's kitchen before, and when he considered that he had received enough petting, he calmly trotted off to a corner of the room where he had once had a very good dinner, and began sniffing and nosing about. No dish was there this time, and so he trotted back again and sat down, looking expectantly at the group of amused watchers. Mrs. Shaw went and got some bread and milk for him, and he was soon very busy with it, seeming none the worse for his adventure.
"Well, I must be going," remarked Alan.
"Oh no," protested Blanche; "it's too late for you to go home to dinner now. You must come to us. Marjory's coming."
"I meant to skate all day, and mother gave me some sandwiches."
"Sandwiches are but poor comfort on a cold day, Master Morison," said Mrs. Shaw. "I should be proud if the young ladies and you would have your dinner here—that is," she added, "if you don't mind having it in the kitchen. The parlour fire isn't lighted yet. I can send a message down to Braeside if you will stay." And she looked at the girls.
"It is very kind of you," said Blanche. "We should like to stay, if it isn't too much bother for you.—Shouldn't we, Marj?"
"Yes," replied Marjory, much surprised by this unwonted friendliness on Mrs. Shaw's part. "And don't you think Alan's clothes ought to be dried?"
"Rot!" said Alan again.
But Mrs. Shaw was a managing person. She felt Alan's legs.