on a long picnic-walk ages ago, and Father wrapping his handkerchief
around the top of the tin can the soup had come in and giving us a
drink at a pump. So we knew that we could do that with the broken
bottle. Jerry dodged out into the rain through the tide-pools and
came back after a while with some water.

"I couldn't get much," he said, "because the place I found was very
shallow, but I can go again."

I remembered reading in books that you mustn't give much water to
fever-stricken people in any case. We lifted Greg's head up,--that
is, Jerry did, while I held the root-beer bottle glass, and said:

"Here's the drink, Gregs, dear."

It was very hard to tell what I was doing, and some of the water
trickled over the handkerchief and down the front of Greg's jumper.
But he drank the rest, and said: "Thank you very much" in the same
careful voice.

"Oh, I wish he wouldn't be so blooming polite!" Jerry said sharply,
as we were laying Greg back again, and I felt something wet and warm
splash down on my wrist. But I didn't tell Jerry I'd felt it.




CHAPTER X