I began to understand and see and hear again an angry voice was saying: "You clumsy scoundrel! I believe you did it on purpose to injure the
poor boy."
"Not I," growled another voice. "I aren't no spite agen him. Now if it
had been young Shock--"
"Don't stand arguing," cried the first voice, which seemed to be coming
from somewhere out of a mist. "Run up the road and ask the doctor to
come down directly."
"All right, master! I'll go."
"Poor lad! poor boy!" the other voice in the mist seemed to say. "Nice
beginning for him!--nice beginning! Tut--tut--tut!"
It sounded very indistinct and dreamy. Somehow it seemed to have
something to do with my first attempt to swim, and I thought I was being
pulled out of the water, which kept splashing about and making my face
and hair wet.
I knew I was safe, but my forehead hurt me just as if it had been
scratched by the thorns on one of the hedges close to the water-side.
My head ached too, and I was drowsy. I wanted to go to sleep, but
people kept talking, and the water splashed so about my face and
trickled back with a musical noise into the river, I thought, but really
into a basin.
For all at once I was wide awake again, looking at the geraniums in the
window, as I lay on my back upon the sofa.
I did not understand it for a few minutes; for though my eyes were wide
open, the aching and giddiness in my head troubled me so, that though I
wanted to speak I did not know what to say.
Then, as I turned my eyes from the geraniums in the window and they
rested on the grey hair and florid face of Old Brownsmith, who was
busily bathing my forehead with a sponge and water, the scene in the
yard came back like a flash, and I caught the hand that held the sponge.
"Has it hurt the baskets of flowers?" I cried excitedly.
"Never mind the baskets of flowers," said Old Brownsmith warmly; "has it
hurt you?"
"I don't know; not much," I said quickly. "But won't it be a great deal
of trouble and expense?"
He smiled, and patted my shoulder.
"Never mind that," he said good-humouredly. "All people who keep horses
and carts, and blundering obstinate fellows for servants, have accidents
to contend against. There!--never mind, I say, so long as you have no
bones broken; and I don't think you have. Here, stretch out your arms."
I did so.
"That's right," he said. "Now, kick out your legs as if you were
swimming."
I looked up at him sharply, for it seemed so strange for him to say that
just after I had been thinking of being nearly drowned. I kicked out,
though, as he told me.