it, then she got her foot out of the water, still screaming.

It was indeed terrible. The thing she thought was a shark came up
with her foot, and it was a horrid, jagged, old meat-tin, and she
had put her foot right into it. Oswald got it off, and directly he
did so blood began to pour from the wounds. The tin edges had cut
it in several spots. It was very pale blood, because her foot was
wet, of course.

She stopped screaming, and turned green, and I thought she was
going to faint, like Daisy did on the jungle day.

Oswald held her up as well as he could, but it really was one of
the least agreeable moments in his life. For the raft was gone,
and she couldn't have waded back anyway, and we didn't know how
deep the moat might be in other places.

But Mrs Pettigrew had not been idle. She is not a bad sort really.

Just as Oswald was wondering whether he could swim after the raft
and get it back, a boat's nose shot out from under a dark archway
a little further up under the house. It was the boathouse, and
Albert's uncle had got the punt and took us back in it. When we
had regained the dark arch where the boat lives we had to go up the
cellar stairs. Dora had to be carried.

There was but little said to us that day. We were sent to
bed--those who had not been on the raft the same as the others, for
they owned up all right, and Albert's uncle is the soul of justice.