I was, not remembering how't a child takes all things literal.
Ha, ha, ha! To think it! When I scalded mysel' with the hot tea the
bairnie should fancy I yelled at a sarpent's bite! Sure, I could split
my sides a-laughin' but for the hurt I gave her. How is she doin',
lass? I've waited this long spell for someone to pass by and give me
the word, but nobody has. Leastwise, them that passes has no mind for
old John in his dumps."

"Why, Mr. Gilpin, she wasn't hurt at all; and it's just as you said.
She thought you had a real snake in your clothes and it had bitten
you. She's all right now, right as can be; and so will you be as soon
as you get home and into your wife's good care. She--"

"Ah, my Dorothy! 'Tis she I dread. Not a word'll she say, like enough,
but the look she will give to my silly face--Hmm. She's a rare silent
woman is my Dame, but she can do a power o' thinkin'."

"Yes, she can, and the first thing she'll think is how glad she is to
have her husband back again, safe and sound."

"Aye, but Dorothy, hark ye! I'm safe, I'll grant ye that; but--sound?
'Tis different letters spells that word. Sound? I'll no' be that for
weeks to come!" and the poor fellow, who certainly had been badly
bruised and lucky to have escaped broken bones, sighed profoundly.

Winifred had an inspiration.

"Speaking of Robins, suppose we write her a round-robin letter? Right
here and now, on the back of this letter of Father's? It's a grand
good letter for me and we'll write so nicely of you, Mr. John, that
it'll be a good one for her, too."

"Will ye? A real letter explainin' about the accident, when the
lassie's toboggan got in our way and we got that mixed 'twas nigh the
death of the lot? Dame'd be proud enough to get that letter. Sure, I
believe 'twould set her thinkin' of other things, and she'll be liker
to overlook my foolishness."

They all laughed at the crafty manner in which he shipped his
responsibility for the accident from his shoulders to theirs; but
Winifred plumped herself down on the settle beside him and, using it
for a desk, concocted an amusing story of the whole day's happenings.
The other girls had less of the gift of writing, but each added a few
words and signed her name with a flourish. Altogether it was a
wonderful document, so the farmer thought, as Winifred tore that
half-sheet from her father's letter, folded it in a fantastic way and
gave it him.

Indeed, he was so pleased with it and so anxio