Cautiously Sandy rolled over on his stomach and pushed two shrunken little legs out from the covers. Putting them gingerly to the floor, he stood up, holding fast to the bed; then working his way from bed to bed, he reached the table at last, spurred on by Bridget's irresistible blarney:
"Sure ye're walkin' grand, Sandy. I never saw any one puttin' one leg past another smarther than what ye are. Ye'd fetch up to Aberdeen i' no time if ye kept on at the pace ye are goin'."
Pride lies above pain; and Sandy held his head very high as he steadied himself by the table and looked toward Bridget for further orders.
[Illustration: Sandy held his head very high as he steadied himself by the table and looked toward Bridget for further orders.]
"Phat wull a do the noo?" he asked.
In the excitement Bridget had pulled herself to the foot of the cot; and there, eyes shining and cheeks growing pinker and pinker, she held her breath while the pleasantest thought of all shaped itself somewhere under the shock of red curls.
"Ye could never guess in a hundthred years what I was thinkin' this minute," she burst forth, ecstatically.
Eight mouths opened wide in anticipated wonder; but no one thought of guessing.
"I'm thinkin'—I'm thinkin' we could make a primrose ring the night. Is there any knowledgeable one among ye that knows aught of a primrose ring?"
Eight heads shook an emphatic negative.