ich had quickly assembled to witness, as it
expected, a fatal accident.

"Hurt? oh! no, I'm not hurt," exclaimed Di, while tears still converted
her eyes into blue lakelets as she looked anxiously up in the face of
Number 666; "but I'm quite sure you must be hurt--awfully. I'm _so_
sorry! Indeed I am, for I didn't mean to knock you down."

This also was received by the crowd with a hearty laugh, while Number
666 sought to comfort the child by earnestly assuring her that he was
not hurt in the least--only a little stunned at first, but that was
quite gone.

"Wot does she mean by knockin' of 'im down?" asked a small butcher's
boy, who had come on the scene just too late, of a small baker's boy who
had, happily, been there from the beginning.

"She means wot she says," replied the small baker's boy with the
dignified reticence of superior knowledge, "she knocked the constable
down."

"Wot! a leetle gurl knock a six-foot bobby down?--walk-_er_!"

"Very good; you've no call to b'lieve it unless you like," replied the
baker's boy, with a look of pity at the unbelieving butcher, "but she
did it, though--an' that's six month with 'ard labour, if it ain't five
year."

At this point the crowd opened up to let a maniac enter. He was
breathless, hatless, moist, and frantic.

"My child! my darling! my dear Di!" he gasped.

"Papa!" responded Diana, with a little scream, and, leaping into his
arms, grasped him in a genuine hug.

"Oh! I say," whispered the small butcher, "it's a melly-drammy--all for
nuffin!"

"My!" responded the small baker, with a solemn look, "won't the Lord
left-tenant be down on 'em for play-actin' without a licence, just!"

"Is the pony killed?" inquired Sir Richard, recovering himself.

"Not in the least, sir. 'Ere 'e is, sir; all alive an' kickin',"
answered the small butcher, delighted to have the chance of making
himself offensively useful, "but the hinsurance offices wouldn't 'ave
the clo'se-baskit at no price. Shall I order up the remains of your
carriage, sir?"

"Oh! I'm so glad he's not dead," said Diana, looking hastily up, "but
this policeman was nearly killed, and _I_ did it! He saved my life,
papa."

A chorus of voices here explained to Sir Richard how Number 666 had come
up in the nick of time to receive the flying child upon his bosom.

"I am deeply grateful to you," said the knight, turning to the
constable, and extending his hand, which the latter shook modestly while