“I thank you, Roderick Dhu,” she called out over Billy’s shoulder with another little choke, for Jimmy had refused Mrs. Bennett’s offer of dry clothes and was starting home alone.
Jimmy sprang for her
So imminent had catastrophe been, that no one thought of the poor small steamer burning unchecked to the water’s edge while the procession climbed the hill; no one knew till days afterward that busy Buzz had entered the open shop and mixed Billy’s cans so that it was gasoline instead of kerosene that he fed that fated craft. But gratitude for Jimmy’s bravery and May Nell’s safety supplanted even in the youngest heart all regret for the boat.
All but May Nell; when Edith and Mrs. Bennett rubbed and warmed her she declared she didn’t need it, and was so absorbed in lamenting the loss of the Fair Ellen, she could think of nothing else.
“So long as it isn’t you, Ladybird, it’s all right,” Billy consoled; “we can make more boats.”
But May Nell was not to be comforted, till that evening when she composed a wonderful ode to “The Wreck of the Fair Ellen.”