'You have got Phil with you, of course,' he heard a man say. It was Mr. Chilcote who spoke, a strange ring of anxiety in his voice.
'No,' was the startled answer of a lady who was hushing a baby to sleep. 'Oh, Maurice, you don't mean to say you left him behind!'
'What!' ejaculated the man, hoarsely. 'Nurse said that he was with you. What shall we do?'
Well might Mr. Chilcote's heart fail, for his home was flooded all round, and in danger of collapsing altogether.
The mother of the little lad gave a cry of bitter distress, a cry which went to Tom's very heart. 'My Phil! my little Phil!' was all she moaned.
'Do you mean to say it's little Phil Chilcote in danger?' shouted Tom, his mind reverting to the only 'Phil' he knew.
'Yes,' was the reply from several voices.
'Then I will save him if mortal man can,' was the plucky response.
'But his window is out of reach, and the stairs are under water by this time,' said the poor mother, despairingly.
Then a brilliant thought struck Tom, and he told it at once to Mr. Chilcote. The result was that in a few moments Tom, with his stilts on either side of him, was being rowed by trusty oarsmen, one of whom was Mr. Chilcote himself, to the Manor House.