Harry, too, was sorry for me, I know, but just then he did not say much.
'All the same,' he replied, after listening to me, 'it wouldn't be right to risk your grandmother's being frightened, any longer. I'll send a telegram at once.'
The village post and telegraph office was only a quarter of a mile from our house. Harry turned to leave the room as he spoke.
'Lindsay, you'll look after Helena till I come back,' he said. 'I daresay Kezia won't be in for an hour or so.'
I stopped him.
'You mustn't send a telegram without telling me what you are going to say,' I said.
He looked at me.
'I shall just put—"Helena is here, safe and well,"' he replied, and to this I could not make any reasonable objection.
'I may be safe, but I don't think I am well,' I said grumblingly when he had gone. 'I'm starving, to begin with. I've had nothing to eat all day except two buns I bought at Paddington Station, and my head's aching dreadfully.'
'Oh, dear,' said Lindsay, who was a soft-hearted little fellow, and most ready to sympathise, especially in those troubles which he best understood, 'you must be awfully hungry. We had our tea some time ago, but Kezia always gives us supper. Come into the kitchen and let's see what we can find—or no, you're too tired—you stay here and I'll forage for you.'