"Keep her in bed one more day, and then let her get up and stop by the fire," he said. "Youth will never cease to astonish me." Jacob Bullstone went to Shipley Farm after midday dinner and summoned Adam Winter. "You've done more than I can pay, as you well know," he said, "and that's granted; but if it's ever in my power to lessen the obligation, I gladly shall, for I little like to be in any man's debt." "No need to talk that way. There's no debt and no obligation. Who wouldn't have done the same? Didn't Miss Huxam go in the water herself after a puppy? We do these things, not for any return, but because we must. I'd have done as much for a sheep--so would you. I hope she's out of danger?" "She's wishful to see you--nothing will do but she thanks you herself this instant moment." "No need at all." "So I say--no hurry anyway; but that's her will and she must be obeyed, if you please." "Them caught from the grave like that did ought to be humoured," said Adam's aunt. She was a little woman with grey hair and a red face. "I'll come, then, if it must be so," said Winter. "The green plover be back, and I shot a brace this morning. Will she accept 'em?" "No, thanks; I'll get a bird or two for her presently." The men returned together. Their walk had been silent on Jacob's part, while Adam related the particulars of the rescue. "I properly thank you," said Margery, when they ascended to her room and Adam took a chair in the window, while Bullstone stood with his hands in his pocket at the foot of the bed and Judith Huxam sat beside it. "We'll never, never forget it, Jacob and me," continued Margery. "I hope you will, then," answered the farmer. "Why such a noise about it? Duty's duty. In fact 'twas more of a pleasure than a duty, I'm sure, and if I hadn't much feared you was a goner, I should have enjoyed the fun." Jacob's eyes were restless, he frowned and moved about. Then he turned his back and examined some family photographs on Margery's mantelshelf. "To save a life is a great thing, Mr. Winter," said Mrs. Huxam. "Now, whatever your own life's got in store for you, you can always remember that you had a hand, under God, in keeping a human creature alive." "The puppy's no worse," declared Margery, "and if he knew which it was, Jacob would never part with it. But we never shall know, for I don't remember which I saved. You must be terrible strong to have faced that awful water. It took me like a leaf." "Wasn't the water's fault," he answered. "Young women can't go playing about with the rivers in flood. A little item like you was bound to be swept away." "It's a wonderful thing to look at a man who's saved your life," said Margery. "Wish I was a finer object," he replied. Jacob hid his emotion, but had to speak and occupy himself. The invalid was nursing two young puppies from the last litter. She had demanded something to play with.