“What is it, darling?”
“Does Tempest know I’ve been ill?”
“Yes,” and her eyes seemed to fill with tears as she bent over me.
“Will you tell him about the shilling?”
“Yes, if you like.”
“Mother, why are you crying? Is Tempest ill too?”
“No, dear—but—”
“Tell us, mother.”
“If it had not been for Tempest,” said she, “I should have had no boy to-day.”
“Did he get me out, then?” said I, getting thoroughly aroused.