A pleasant-faced woman of middle age and pretty girl of twenty rose at their entrance, and a faint scream fell pleasantly upon the ears of Mr. Heard.
“Here he is,” bawled Mr. Smith; “just saved at the last moment.”
“What, two of them?” exclaimed Miss Smith, with a faint note of gratification in her voice. Her gaze fell on the mate, and she smiled approvingly.
“No; this one jumped in and saved 'im,” said her father.
“Oh, Arthur!” said Miss Smith. “How could you be so wicked! I never dreamt you'd go and do such a thing—never! I didn't think you'd got it in you.”
Mr. Heard grinned sheepishly. “I told you I would,” he muttered.
“Don't stand talking here,” said Mrs. Smith, gazing at the puddle which was growing in the centre of the carpet; “they'll catch cold. Take 'em upstairs and give 'em some dry clothes. And I'll bring some hot whisky and water up to 'em.”
“Rum is best,” said Mr. Smith, herding his charges and driving them up the small staircase. “Send young Joe for some. Send up three glasses.”
They disappeared upstairs, and Joe appearing at that moment from the kitchen, was hastily sent off to the “Blue Jay” for the rum. A couple of curious neighbors helped him to carry it back, and, standing modestly just inside the door, ventured on a few skilled directions as to its preparation. After which, with an eye on Miss Smith, they stood and conversed, mostly in head-shakes.
Stimulated by the rum and the energetic Mr. Smith, the men were not long in changing. Preceded by their host, they came down to the sitting-room again; Mr. Heard with as desperate and unrepentant an air as he could assume, and Mr. Dix trying to conceal his uneasiness by taking great interest in a suit of clothes three sizes too large for him.