"Two minutes to get my breath!" she cried, panting; "only two, and then you shall hear all." She spent the two minutes in filling the kettle and presenting Bubble with a pot of peach-marmalade that Dame Hartley had sent him; then, sitting down by the invalid's chair, she told from beginning to end the history of the past two days.

The recital was thrilling enough, and before it was over the pale cheeks were crimson, and the two pairs of blue eyes blazed with excitement.
"_Oh!_" cried Bubble, hopping up and down in his chair, regardless of the sprained ankle.

"Oh, I _say_, Miss Hildy! I dunno what _to_ say! Wouldn't _he_ ha' liked it, though?
My! 'twas jest like himself.

Jes' exactly what he'd ha' done." "What who would have done, Bubble ?" asked Hilda, laughing.
"Why, him! Buckle-oh!" said the boy.

"I was jest sayin' over the ballid when I saw ye comin'.