Sylvia sat with one hand covering her face. Her other arm crept round my waist. I was so dazed I could hardly think—too bewildered to grasp what had happened.
"Poor child!" said Dr. Atherton.
"Sara, Dr. Atherton is speaking to you ... Sara!"
I raised my head.
"Poor child!" I heard again. "Sit up and drink this," said the doctor's voice, and I felt him chafing my hand.
"Miss Sara, won't you try to be brave? Look at Miss Sylvia," he said.
"She be a rare plucked 'un, she be. Cheer up, you poor little 'un!"
"While there is life, there's 'ope, little miss. Thank the Lord, we're not all on us drowned."
I burst into tears, I was ashamed that I did; but it was oh! such a relief to cry.
When I came to myself they were talking together. I heard in a stupefied way.