for I am superstitious about presentiments. They so often
come true."

"Well, this one at least has not. Here we are safe and sound, and all
risk is over!" cried Jack, dropping his reins, and jumping lightly from
the saddle without waiting for the groom to come to the horse's head.

He was anxious to assist Mollie to dismount before Bates came up; but
even as his feet touched the ground he slipped, staggered uncertainly
for a moment, and sank to the ground with a groan of pain. The groom
rushed forward; Mollie leapt inelegantly but safely to the ground, and
bent over him with anxious questioning. His face was drawn with pain,
and he bent forward to grip his foot with both hands.

"My--ankle! I slipped on something, or came down on the side of my
foot. I don't know how it was done; but I've given it a bad wrench, if
nothing worse. You'll have to cart me up to the house, Bates. I'm
afraid it's hopeless to try to walk."

"No, indeed, sir! Don't you trouble. I've got an old bath-chair stored
away in the stables. We'll lift you into that in no time, and take you
up as easy as possible."

He turned off as he spoke, and Jack and Mollie were left alone. For a
moment she stood silently by his side; then their eyes met, and he said
wearily--

"Kismet! Fate is too much for me. For better or worse, Miss Mollie, it
is evidently ordained that I must stay on at the Court!"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

NEW EXPERIENCES.

The village doctor came to doctor Jack Melland's damaged ankle, and the
patient fumed and fretted beneath his old-fashioned treatment.

"Bandaging me and laying me up by the heels for weeks at a time; it's
folly!" he declared angrily. "The man is twenty years behind the times.
If I were in town I should have had one of those Swedish fellows to
massage it, and be about in half the time. Just my luck to go in for an
accident in a place where one can't get proper attention!"

"But you groan if anyone comes near your foot; wouldn't it hurt
dreadfully much to have it massaged?" Mollie asked.

Whereupon the invalid growled impatiently--

"Hurt? Of course it would hurt! What has that to do with it, pray?"

"Lots," returned Mollie, unabashed. "I should think so, at least, if it
were my ankle. I can't endure pain."

"I'm not a girl," growled Jack the ungracious, between his teeth.

There was no denying the fact that he did not make an agreeable invalid.
In the first realisation of his accident