"Yes, I know—it was dreadfully stupid," Daisy said, her eyes filling. "I can't think how I could. But when Mr. Bramble tried to make out that it was a spark from the engine, I had to bite my lips not to speak. Wasn't it horrid of him not to help, but only to stand staring? Of course everybody couldn't jump into the river—needn't, at least—but he might have wanted to help. Malcolm was only one second behind Nigel; and he would have been in too, if you hadn't kept him back." "I keep him back! Tut, tut, child! He didn't go in because it was not necessary." Daisy's brown eyes opened to their widest extent. "Oh, I say, how unfair! Poor Malcolm! When you tugged at him with all your might and main, and wouldn't let go." A dim recollection of facts came across Mr. Carden-Cox. "Well, well—it doesn't matter now," he said. "Malcolm would have acted if Nigel had not." "And Anice and Rose ran away. I think that was so cowardly," said Daisy, with the stern condemnation of sixteen. "If I had been near, I would have made Fulvie lie down, and have tried to put out the fire. But the first thing I knew was the screaming, and then I saw the blaze, and Nigel going across with such a leap. And I felt so odd—as if somehow I couldn't stir for Just a moment—and then it was all done. Shall I tell Fulvie to come before the tea gets cold?" Mr. Carden-Cox offered no objection. And outside the door Daisy was met by a subdued—"I say!" "Nigel, how comical you do look!" "Narrow as to the shoulders, and baggy as to the waist. Not quite a perfect fit—but I'm glad to be dry again. I say, Daisy—" "Fulvia's better, and we're all going to have lots of tea, and to be jolly." "So I hear. We ought to be back on the boat soon. It will get awfully cold on the river for Anice. I say, Daisy—just listen one moment. I want you to do something for me." "Oh, what?" "If I am asked to cut bread or carve meat, will you act the energetic younger sister and do it instead? Mr. Carden-Cox means us to go in for substantials." "Yes, of course. But why? What do you mean? Are you tired?" "No—only I managed to scorch my hands. Nothing of consequence—I'll see to them by-and-by, but I don't want a fuss now. It would upset Fulvie—don't you see?" "Oh,—do show me!" "No, nonsense—hands off, Daisy!" as she pulled in vain at his coat-sleeve. "Don't!" and he spoke with unwonted sharpness, catching his breath. Daisy stared. "Did I hurt? Was it that?" "Never mind—it is nothing to signify. I won't have a word said; only I just want your help, like a good child, about the cutting and carving. Malcolm knows; and you and he, between you, can keep it from Fulvie." "I'll be sure," Daisy answered, a sound like a gulp accompanying the words. "That's right. You've been as plucky as possible, not giving in. Yes, I saw, of course—didn't you think I should? It's so much more sensible to take things cheerfully. What earthly good would it do, if we all sat down and howled?"