“No fear of that. I’m used to splashing in and out of the water half a dozen times a day. You need have no anxiety about me.”
“But—the trousers?”
“Oh, bother the trousers! I piled that on a bit, just to prevent you from getting sentimental. They’re all right!” Ralph paused a moment, then, “I say!” he cried anxiously, “is this going to get you into trouble with the aunt? Need you say anything about it, do you think? I’ll swear to secrecy, if you say the word, and not a soul need know.”
Darsie debated the point thoughtfully while the two walked side by side along the gravelled paths, and finally arrived at a conclusion.
“I think, on the whole, I’ll tell! Aunt Maria allowed me to go out alone as a great concession, and it was mean to take advantage and run risks. So upsetting for her if I were killed in her house! So I’m in honour bound to confess, and promise not to do it again.”
“You might do something else just as bad! Probably she’ll withdraw her permission and keep you under her thumb as she did those first weeks.”
“She may; but I don’t think she will! I think she will appreciate my confidence,” said Darsie, with a grandiloquent air, at which her companion whistled softly, his face twitching with amusement. He was much more natural and boyish in his manner than on either of the previous occasions on which Darsie had met him, and the agitation of the last few minutes seemed to have carried them in a bound past all the formalities of early acquaintance.
“Right you are!” he said briskly. “I like a straight girl. But if you don’t mind we won’t speak of it before the mater. She’s a bit nervous, and would be always imagining that the girls were going to have the same experience. You might warn Lady Hayes not to speak of it either. We’ll keep it a secret between us.”
“Just as you like! I believe,” said Darsie shrewdly, “that you’re afraid of being praised and fussed over, as you would be if people knew that you had saved my life! Men hate a fuss, but you can’t escape my gratitude. I didn’t want to die. It came over me with a sort of horror—the thought of leaving the flowers, and the trees, and the blue sky, and all the people I love. Have you ever been so nearly dead to know how it feels?”
“Once—when I had enteric at school. It was a near squeak at the crisis.”