lowed by his quick plunge toward the mare. It seemed that she
certainly would ride over him, but he never faltered. Grasping his
pony's mane with one hand, he clutched Lady's bridle with the other. The
mare plunged, but the boy's grip was as firm as iron. Though almost
dragged from his seat, he held on, and the more she struggled, the
harder he tugged,--the pony bearing itself nobly, and quivering in eager
sympathy with Donald's every movement. Jack and Ben were now tearing
across the field, bent on rescue; but they were not needed. Don was
master of the situation. The mare, her frolic over, had yielded with
superb grace, almost as if with a bow, and the pony was rubbing its nose
against her steaming side.

"Good for you, Dot!" was Donald's first word. "You held on
magnificently."

Dorothy stroked Lady's hot neck, and for a moment could not trust
herself to look up. But when Jack half-pulled, half-lifted her from the
saddle, and she felt the firm earth beneath her, she tottered and would
have fallen, had not Donald, frightened at her white face, sprung to the
ground just in time to support her.

"Shiver my timbers!" growled Jack, "if ever I let youngsters have their
way again!" But his eyes shone with a strange mixture of self-reproach
and satisfaction as he looked at Dorry.

"Oh, is she hurt?" cried Charity, who, having stumbled with the baby in
her rush across the field, was gathering up the screaming little fellow,
catching her balance, and scrambling onward at the same time--"Is she
hurt?"

"Is she hurt?" echoed the others, pressing forward in breathless
excitement.

"Not hurt at all," spoke up Donald, stoutly, as, still supporting his
sister, he saw the color coming back to her cheek,--"not hurt one bit!
It's only been a splendid ride for her, and a jolly scare for us; but it
is high time we were in the house. All's right, Jack. Good-by,
everybody! We'll skip along home, now."

CHAPTER IX.

IN WHICH SOME WELL-MEANING GROWN FOLK APPEAR.

MCSWIVER--better known as "Michael" by the Manning family, or, more
descriptively, as "Mr. Manning's Mike," at the village store, but always
as "old Mr. McSwiver," by our Liddy--was about to enjoy an evening out.
This was a rare occurrence; for Mr. McSwiver, though he had advertised
himself as having "no incumbrance," was by no means an ease-taking man.
He united in his august person the duties of coachman, butler, waiter,
useful man, and body-servant to Mr. Mann