According to her distracted governess, she had almost better have been drowned.

For the life of her, Chris couldn't see why.
When the tempest had somewhat spent itself, she retreated to her brothers, to whom she poured out a full and animated account of the night's happenings.

They all agreed that Mademoiselle must have rats in the upper story to make such a pother over the adventure, though Maxwell, who held himself to be approaching years of discretion, gave it as his opinion that the whole thing was a piece of bad luck and an experiment not to be repeated.
"It's over anyhow," said Chris.

"And we are none the worse, are we, Cinders?
So all's well that ends well, and now I'm going to get something to eat." For the next two days, Mademoiselle continuing to be hysterical at intervals, Chris was exemplary in her behaviour.

Perhaps even she had had a surfeit of adventure for the time being.