nd I stood
back behind the cart, listening curiously to the conversation. "Yes,
you're too heavy behind."

"No, no, she's 'bout right, master," growled Ike, "right as can be.
Just you look here."

He took a step back over the baskets, and I heard the prop that
supported the cart fall, as Ike yelled out--"Run, boy, run!"

I did not run, for two reasons. Firstly, I was too much confused to
understand my danger. Secondly, I had not time, for in spite of Ike's
insistence that the balance was correct the shafts flew up; Ike threw
himself down on the baskets, and the top layer of flat round sieves that
had not yet been tied like the barges, came gliding off like a landslip,
and before I knew where I was, I felt myself stricken down, half buried
by the wicker avalanche, and all was blank.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

I MAKE A FRIEND.

I began to understand and see and hear again an angry voice was saying:

"You clumsy scoundrel! I believe you did it on purpose to injure the
poor boy."

"Not I," growled another voice. "I aren't no spite agen him. Now if it
had been young Shock--"

"Don't stand arguing," cried the first voice, which seemed to be coming
from somewhere out of a mist. "Run up the road and ask the doctor to
come down directly."

"All right, master! I'll go."

"Poor lad! poor boy!" the other voice in the mist seemed to say. "Nice
beginning for him!--nice beginning! Tut--tut--tut!"

It sounded very indistinct and dreamy. Somehow it seemed to have
something to do with my first attempt to swim, and I thought I was being
pulled out of the water, which kept splashing about and making my face
and hair wet.

I knew I was safe, but my forehead hurt me just as if it had been
scratched by the thorns on one of the hedges close to the water-side.
My head ached too, and I was drowsy. I wanted to go to sleep, but
people kept talking, and the water splashed so about my face and
trickled back with a musical noise into the river, I thought, but really
into a basin.

For all at once I was wide awake again, looking at the geraniums in the
window, as I lay on my back upon the sofa.

I did not understand it for a few minutes; for though my eyes were wide
open, the aching and giddiness in my head troubled me so, that though I
wanted to speak I did not know what to say.

Then, as I turned my eyes from the geraniums in the window and they
rested on the grey hair and florid face of Old Brownsmith, who was
busily ba