"Hullo, kid," he said. "Don't howl."
"Isn't howlin'," returned Bobby, untruthfully. "Wants my muvver." His lips quivered. "I tumbled into the water," he said, his blue eyes suddenly misty.
"So you did," said Dick, memory coming back to him. "Weren't you an ass? Never mind, you got out all right."
"It wasn't nice," said Bobby, miserably. The eyes brimmed over. "Don't like this funny place. Want to come an' 'nuggle on your bed."
"Come on, then," Dick said.
Bobby made an effort to clamber out, but relapsed into his blankets.
"My legs is all funny and horrid," he said. "They—they won't work." Tears were in his voice. "Wants to 'nuggle wiv you—wants my muvver!"
"Well, you stay there—I'll come," Dick said, hurriedly.
He climbed out, realising fully the moment he moved Bobby's accusation against his legs. His own felt as though they belonged to someone entirely different—Mr. Warner for choice, for they felt enormous. He found himself glad to hold on to the cot after he was on the floor, and his progress across to Bobby was slow and painful.
"What's the matter?" Bobby asked. "Is your legs funny, too?"