“But if they come from the bottom of our hearts he’ll prize them,” observed Margaret. “And do ye ken who he is?”
“Ay, that I do—he is Donald’s class-mate, no other than Alec Galbraith, your brother is always talking about.”
“Oh, I am so glad,” exclaimed Margaret. “I can believe all Donald says of him. I must go with you and thank him too, and I will never more be jealous though he keeps at the head of the class, and Donald is only second. He must be as brave as he is clever, or he would not have risked his life to save that of a poor little stranger girl like me, and then to have gone away without even stopping to be thanked.”
Janet guessed that young Galbraith was not likely at that time to be found at his house, and indeed Margaret was not fit to go out again at present. She therefore waited till the boys came home in the evening from school. They had heard nothing of what had occurred. All they knew was, that Alec Galbraith had come later than usual to school, that the master had received his excuse’s, and that he had performed his tasks with even more than his ordinary ability. They listened with panting breath to the account Janet gave of the occurrence.
“Bless him,” cried Donald, “I will never again try to take him down. I would rather he had done it than any other fellow in the school.”
“I will give him all my prizes, and pray for him as long as I live,” exclaimed David.
Janet thought Margaret sufficiently recovered in the evening to venture out. “We must go with you,” exclaimed Donald. “I want to take Galbraith by the hand, and tell him all I feel.”
The party set off—Janet, as usual, taking her knitting as she quitted her wheel, from which her active fingers had been spinning yarn even while the conversation above described had been going on. Margaret was rather pale, and somewhat weak, but her sturdy brothers supported her on either side. Though she was eager to thank Alec Galbraith, she felt somewhat timid at the thoughts of encountering him and his parents.
“I know Alec well enough to be sure that he will make light of the matter,” observed Donald. “He will tell you that he ran no danger, and enjoyed the swim. But that must not make us less grateful to him. I do not know what sort of people his parents are—perhaps high and mighty, and may be angry with you for placing their son in danger. However, I don’t care what they say; nothing shall make any difference in my feelings towards Alec.”
“Nor in mine either,” whispered Margaret.