It seemed a very long while, though it was but a few moments, before she opened her eyes, to find herself on her bed, with Tom bending over her.
"What's the matter?" she asked. "I'm all right, Tom—let me get up." She struggled to rise.
"Lie still, dear," he said anxiously.
"Did I faint?—how silly of me!" she said disgustedly. "I'm so sorry; I must have frightened you."
"I'm glad I caught you," he said. "Isn't there some medicine I could give you? Sal volatile, or something? Tell me where to look."
Colour was coming back to her lips. She began to laugh.
"Oh, I don't want any medicine," she answered. "I haven't got any, either—you know I never faint, Tom. It's too stupid of me to do it now. I was only a little tired—and I think the idea of tea overcame me!"
"Keep quiet, then, and I'll bring you a cup," he said, disappearing. He was back in a moment, cup in hand, and made her lean against him as she drank it.
"That was lovely!" she said, lying back. "Oh, I've such a heavenly feeling of laziness, and of course, I must nip it in the bud! I'm all right now, Tom, and so hungry. Come along."
"Sure you are?" he said, regarding her doubtfully as she got up. "Well, don't go tumbling about like that any more: it scares one." He held her arm as they went along the narrow passage to the dining-room, and kept a wary eye upon her throughout the meal. Being well aware of this, she forced herself to be extremely merry, despite thee fact that red-hot knives seemed to be running in and out of her shoulders.