on the grass in the middle of the day? Why did Cornelia look so queer,
with her face stained with soil, and her hat on one side? Why did they
offer her things to drink? She wasn't thirsty; the tea was bad; it
stung her mouth. It wasn't tea at all, but something hot and nasty. It
was brandy out of a flask! Elma lifted big, lovely eyes of a pansy
blue, and stared vacantly into the face by her side, but at the sight of
it memory came back in a rush. She sat up stiffly, moving her limbs in
nervous, tentative fashion--gasped, sighed, and quavered out a
tremulous--

"What happened? Is it all over? Are we saved?"

Cornelia loomed above her, alert even in this moment of shock and
dishevelment. One cheek was plastered with soil; patches of green stain
discoloured her coat, her hair hung rakishly askew, yet never had her
manner been more composed nor complacently matter of fact.

"We've had a pretty lucky let-off. You are alive all right, and I guess
there's not much the matter with you but nerves. There's nothing wrong
with your lungs, anyway. You scared the mare pretty near as much as the
bird--yelping like a crazed thing, and hanging on to my arm. The grass
is soft enough. It hasn't hurt you any. You needn't worry feeling all
over to see if there's a break. You'd know it fast enough if there
were."

"Miss Ramsden is feeling stunned. I think it would be wiser to allow
her to recover gradually. It is a shock to--er--to most systems, to be
shot out of a cart, however short the distance!"

The masculine voice was thunderous with indignation, and the arm which
supported Elma's back tightened its hold, as if to protect her against
the world. Cornelia turned aside, her red lips twisted into a smile,
and walked along the bank to where the other two men were unharnessing
the mare, which lay on her side trembling with fright, the blood oozing
from several ugly-looking cuts and scratches. As Cornelia walked she
held her right wrist tightly with her left hand, as if she still felt
the strain of that wrestle with the reins, but there was no flinching in
voice or manner as she stood over the men, issuing instructions in
brisk, incisive tones. The nearer of the two was impressed to the
extent of ceasing work to touch his cap; the second darted one
contemptuous glance in her direction, and placidly continued to disobey.
Cornelia promptly knelt on the grass by his side, with intent to
demonstrate her own greater eff