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"What did they do to him?" breathed Hugh.

"I don't exactly know, 'cause it was in their wagon, an' I was in bed. But there was awful roars an' bellows, an' you couldn't teil which was Mr. Pratt an' which was Eddie. Anyhow, there's been rows ever since, an' I b'lieve all the Pratts are goin' away, an' I don't care a bit. But Daddy's awful cross. Oh, an' did I teil you Pazo went an' got a doctor for you?"

"He never!"

"Yes, he did, then. An' when the doctor had finished doctorin' you he had to start on Toby. Wasn't it luck he hadn't gone home! Hugh—d'you know, last night was the most 'citin' night of my—whole—life!" she finished.

Hugh lay back, his head whirling. It was as well for him that a brisk patter of feet on the caravan steps announced the return of Mrs. Dan.

"Awake, are you, sonny? How do you feel?"

"A bit queer," he said. "Mrs. Peterson—have I been an awful bother?"

"Bother? Not a bit. What put that into your silly old head?"

"I've been tellin' him everything about last night, Mummy," said her daughter. "I told him very gently, like you said to!"

"H—m!" remarked Mrs. Dan, looking from one to the other. "Well, if she's told you anything to worry you, Hugh, just you forget it, because everything's all right."

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