'I must have leaned forward too much, and the voice gave me such a
start that I slipped. I had only time to make one jump on to the pigsty
roof--another, before the tiles broke, on to the pigsty wall--and then
I bounced down into the garden, just behind Jerry, with my hair full of
bark. Imagine the situation!'

'Oh, I can!' Una laughed till she nearly fell off the stool.

'Dad said, "Phil--a--del--phia!" and Sir Arthur Wesley said, "Good Ged"
and Jerry put his foot on the pistol Rene had dropped. But Rene was
splendid. He never even looked at me. He began to untwist Doctor Break's
neckcloth as fast as he'd twisted it, and asked him if he felt better.

'"What's happened? What's happened?" said Dad.

'"A fit!" said Rene. "I fear my confrere has had a fit. Do not be
alarmed. He recovers himself. Shall I bleed you a little, my dear
Doctor?" Doctor Break was very good too. He said, "I am vastly obliged,
Monsieur Laennec, but I am restored now." And as he went out of the
gate he told Dad it was a syncope--I think. Then Sir Arthur said, "Quite
right, Bucksteed. Not another word! They are both gentlemen." And he
took off his cocked hat to Doctor Break and Rene.

'But poor Dad wouldn't let well alone. He kept saying, "Philadelphia,
what does all this mean?"

'"Well, sir," I said, "I've only just come down. As far as I could see,
it looked as though Doctor Break had had a sudden seizure." That was
quite true--if you'd seen Rene seize him. Sir Arthur laughed. "Not much
change there, Bucksteed," he said. "She's a lady--a thorough lady."

'"Heaven knows she doesn't look like one," said poor Dad. "Go home,
Philadelphia."

'So I went home, my dear--don't laugh so!---right under Sir Arthur's
nose--a most enormous nose--feeling as though I were twelve years old,
going to be whipped. Oh, I beg your pardon, child!'

'It's all right,' said Una. 'I'm getting on for thirteen. I've never
been whipped, but I know how you felt. All the same, it must have been
funny!'

'Funny! If you'd heard Sir Arthur jerking out, "Good Ged, Bucksteed!"
every minute as they rode behind me; and poor Dad saying, '"'Pon my
honour, Arthur, I can't account for it!" Oh, how my cheeks tingled when
I reached my room! But Cissie had laid out my very best evening dress,
the white satin one, vandyked at the bottom with spots of morone foil,
and the pearl knots, you know, catching up the drapery from the left
shoulder. I had poor mother's lace tucker and her cor