as difficult to keep them in
sight, for everyone made way upon recognising them, but showed less
consideration for a small panting child; and the head of the field, by
the exit gate, was packed by a most exasperating throng pressing to
admire a giant motor-car that waited in the roadway with lamps blazing
and a couple of men in chauffeurs' dress keeping guard in attitudes of
sublime _hauteur_. Sir Elphinstone, with Miss Sally on his arm, reached
the car while yet Tilda struggled in the gateway. A policeman roughly
ordered her back. She feigned to obey, and dropping out of sight,
crawled forth past the policeman's boots, with her head almost butting
the calves of a slow-moving yeoman farmer. Before she could straighten
herself up Sir Elphinstone had climbed into the car after his sister,
and the pair were settling down in their rugs. One of the chauffeurs
was already seated, the other, having set the machine throbbing, was
already clambering to his seat. The crowd set up three parting cheers,
and Miss Sally, remembering her Ham, held it aloft in farewell.
But while Miss Sally waved and laughed, of a sudden, amid the laughter
and cheers and throbbing of the motor, a small child sprang out of the
darkness and clung upon the step.
"Lady! Lady!"
Miss Sally stared down upon the upturned face.
"Miles Chandon, lady?--where does 'e live?--For the Lord's sake--"
But already Sir Elphinstone had called the order. The car shot away
smoothly.
"Elphinstone--a moment, please! Stop! The child--"
"Eh? . . . Stop the car! . . . Anything wrong?"
Miss Sally peered back into the darkness.
"There was a child . . . We have hurt her, I fear. Tell George to jump
down and inquire."
But Tilda was not hurt. On the contrary, she was running and dodging
the crowd at that moment as fast as her hurt leg permitted. For in the
press of it, not three yards away, by the light of the side lamp, she
had caught sight of Dr. Glasson and Gavel.
They were on foot, and Gavel had seen her, she could make no doubt.
He was bearing down straight upon her.
Not until she had run fifty yards did she pluck up courage to look back.
Gavel was nowhere in sight. The car had come to a standstill, and the
people were yelling. Was it after her? Was _this_ the hue-and-cry?
They were certainly yelling--and behaving too, in the strangest fashion.
They seemed by one impulse to be running from the car and crowding back
towards the gate.
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