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.
Next day but one was Saturday.

Father gave us a talking to--with other things.
The worst was when Dora couldn't get her shoe on, so they sent for the doctor, and Dora had to lie down for ever so long.

It was indeed poor luck.
When the doctor had gone Alice said to me-- 'It IS hard lines, but Dora's very jolly about it.