Roy's eyes rested on his flushed face with some wonder.
"It wasn't wicked of you to fall into the river; you couldn't help it."
A crimson flush crept over Dudley's face up to the very roots of his
hair; he picked the fringe of the counterpane restlessly between his
fingers, and kicked his heels against the legs of his chair. Silence
again: Roy looked steadily at him; and then an expression of
astonishment and bewilderment flitted across his face, followed by one
of strange, conviction.
"Dudley, look at me."
Roy's tone was peremptory, but Dudley never moved, until the command was
given in a sharper tone. Then he raised his head, but his blue eyes had
a guilty harassed look in them, and he dropped them quickly again.
"It's no good; I've found you out. Did you tie up your feet like that
yourself?"
After a minute, in a sepulchral tone, came the words, "Yes, when you
weren't looking!"
Roy lay back on his pillows with a sigh.
A little disappointment mingled with his feelings which were somewhat
mixed. After a pause, he said, "You _are_ a good fellow! To think of
doing that for me! What would you have done if I hadn't jumped in to
save you?"
Then Dudley raised his head:
"I knew you wouldn't fail me," he said, triumphantly; "I knew I could
trust you!"
Roy put out his thin little arm and drew Dudley's bonny face down by the
side of his on the pillow.
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