“I don’t think you will do much rickshaw driving to-morrow,” Mr. Linton said.
“Won’t we!” said the patients, in chorus; and Jim laughed.
“I’m awfully sorry we made such asses of ourselves, and worried you, Dad,” he said. “But it’s bad enough to waste one shore day; we’ll be fit as fiddles to-morrow, and ready for anything—if you don’t mind going about with two battle-scarred objects.”
David Linton smiled a little grimly.
“There’s only one thing I should really mind,” he said—“and that would be to let you out again alone!”
“Jim set his teeth and managed to sit up.”
| From Billabong to London] | [Page 214 |