to be killed
or locked up in the _prefecture_, they must jump off the back of the
cart while going up the hill outside the town. The horse, after its
wild career, would calm down on the incline, besides which, a fall in
the road would be preferable to being thrown through a shop window.

It took very forcible language to make Mademoiselle Therese face
present terror rather than await the future; but, when the horse really
did slow down to a walk, and the two girls had reached the ground in
safety, she made a mighty effort, and floundered out in a heap upon the
road, making so much noise that Barbara was afraid the man would
realise they were gone, and insist upon their getting in again.

But he whipped up at that moment, and the noise of the cart drowned the
dolorous complaints. The girls soothed their companion by assuring her
that in ten minutes they would be home, when, most assuredly, her
sister's heart would be moved to pity by their sorry plight and the
tale of their adventures.

Just as they arrived at their own door they met Mademoiselle Loire
hurrying up, and her sister, thinking she was coming to look for them,
and not knowing the reception she might get, fell upon her neck,
pouring forth with incoherent sobs and explanations the tale of their
woes.

Mademoiselle Loire was most sympathetic and unreproachful, and, having
dried her sister's tears, led her into the house, where the whole party
sat down to cake and cider, under the influence of which Mademoiselle
Therese quite recovered, and retold their adventures, Barbara realising
for the first time, as she listened, what heroines they had been!

Their screaming advance along the highroad became a journey, where they
sat grimly, with set teeth, listening to the curses of a madman, and
bowing their heads to escape having them cut off repeatedly by the
branches of trees.

Their ignominious exit from the cart on the hill became a desperate
leap into the darkness, when the vehicle was advancing at full gallop;
and when Barbara finally rose to say good-night, she felt as if they
had all been princesses in a fairy-tale, in which, alas! there had been
no prince.

She learned two things on the morrow--not counting the conviction that
riding at a gallop in a cart made one desperately stiff. The first was
from Marie, who told her that Mademoiselle Loire's forbearance with
their late return, and her intense sympathy with their adventures,
probably arose from t