Then he saw the others and the smile dropped from his face. His mother darted to him protectively.
“Oh, my pore, blessed child,” she said, “what have they bin a-doin’ to you—keepin’ you hours an’ hours after your time an’ losin’ your pore memory an’ you your pore widowed mother’s only child.... Come home with your mother, then, an’ she’ll take care of you and we’ll have the lor on them, we will.”
The boy looked from one to another bewildered, then realising from his mother’s tones that he had been badly treated he burst into tears and was led away by his consoling parent.
The doctor and his wife turned to William for an explanation. Their expressions showed considerably less friendliness than they had shown before. William looked about him desperately. Even escape seemed impossible. He felt that he would have welcomed any interruption. When, however, he saw Miss Polliter running towards them down the field he felt that he would have chosen some other interruption than that.
“Oh, there you are!” panted Miss Polliter. “Such dreadful things have happened. Oh, there’s the dear boy. I don’t know what we should have done without him ... rescuing children and animals at the risk, I’m sure, of his own dear life. I must give you just a little present.” She handed him a half crown which William pocketed gratefully.
“But, my dear Miss Polliter,” said the doctor, deeply concerned, “you should be resting in your room. You should never run like that in your state of nervous exhaustion ... never.”
“Oh, I’m quite well now,” said Miss Polliter.
“Well?” said the doctor amazed and horrified at the idea.
“Oh, yes,” said Miss Polliter, “I feel ever so well. The flood’s cured me.”
“The flood?” said the doctor still more amazed and still more horrified.