"
Greg looked up suddenly from beside me, and said:
"_I_ think the thing what stared at him was a mer-person."
"My child," said Jerry, "I believe you're right."
CHAPTER VI
Next day Jerry was well enough to walk around with a cane, and when
he'd broken Father's second-best malacca stick by vaulting over the
box border with it, we decided that he was quite all right, and the
summer went on again as usual. Of course we wrote to the Bottle Man
at once, and told him, as respectfully as we could, just what we
thought of him for letting the native child interrupt him in such an
exciting part. We also begged him to write again as soon as
possible, and to choose a place where the inhabitants weren't likely
to come with offerings. We kept waiting and waiting, and no letter
came, so we settled ourselves to Grim Resignation, as Jerry said. It
was worse than waiting for the next number of a serial story,
because you're pretty certain when that will come, but we had no
idea how long it would be before the Bottle Man wrote to us.
Aunt Ailsa still needed cheering up a good deal, and that kept us
busy. The cheering was great fun for us, because it consisted mostly
of picnics and long, long walks,--the kind where you take a stick
and a kit-bag and eat your lunch under a hedge, like a tinker. We
also wrote a story which we used to put in instalments under her
plate at breakfast every other day.
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