wheel seemed to have passed over my feet, and my toes
burned like fire. Perhaps they were broken--I could not tell. I had
likewise several scrapes and a whole army of bruises, and the skirt of
one of my nicest afternoon frocks was torn into ribbons. And not one
word of thanks or appreciation. No wonder I was riled. "Oh, not at
all. I _like_ it! I am only sorry that I have contrived to hurt
General Underwood. Perhaps you will kindly convey my apologies."

He looked at me critically. Aches don't show on the surface, and I
expect I looked rather red than pale. The only visible signs of damage
were the ends of muslin and lace which strewed the road. He looked at
them and said solemnly:--

"Your dress is spoiled! I'm afraid it was partly my fault. I had to
get you free, and it was not a moment for deliberation. I'm sorry!"

He really _sounded_ sorry, and that smoothed me down. I murmured that
it didn't matter--only a muslin dress--not his fault, while he went on
staring fixedly. Then at last he spoke, and what he said gave me an
electric shock of surprise.

"It's a good thing," he said, "it wasn't the one with the frills!"

_The one with the frills_! For a moment my mind was a whirling void; I
was too stupefied to think. Then gradually it dawned upon me that he
must be alluding to a dress the skirt of which was composed entirely of
tiers of flounces. It was a new and favourite possession, and I also
was glad that it was spared. But--why should Mr Maplestone--

I gaped at him, and said:--

"_Why_?"

And he said lucidly:--

"Well, there would have been more to catch, wouldn't there? Besides--"
He flushed, and lapsed into silence. Evidently it was inadvisable to
continue the subject.

I gathered together my jagged ends, and turned to walk homeward, rather
wondering what was going to happen when I began to move. I found I
_could_ walk, however, which proved that no bones were broken; but it
was a halting performance, and hurt more than I chose to show. If I
limped _too_ much, in common politeness Mr Maplestone would be obliged
to offer help. I had a vision of Charmion's face if she looked out of
the window and beheld us walking arm in arm up the drive!

"Why do you smile?" cried the voice by my side. There was positive
offence in the tone, and, as I looked my amazement, he continued
accusingly, "You always smile. Every time we meet. It must be an
annoyance to stumble against me wherever y