face
bending over her, saying faintly, as she touched it:

"My good little Ben, I knew you'd find me--I sent Lita for you--I'm so
hurt I couldn't come."

"Oh, where? What shall I do? Had I better run up to the house?" asked
Ben, overjoyed to hear her speak, but much dismayed by her seeming
helplessness, for he had seen bad falls, and had them, too.

"I feel bruised all over, and my arm is broken, I'm afraid. Lita tried
not to hurt me. She slipped, and we went down. I came here into the
shade, and the pain made me faint, I suppose. Call somebody, and get
me home."

Then, she shut her eyes, and looked so white that Ben hurried away
and burst upon old Mrs. Paine, placidly knitting at the end door, so
suddenly that, as she afterward said, "it sca't her like a clap o'
thunder."

"Aint a man nowheres around. All down in the big medder gettin' in
hay," was her reply to Ben's breathless demand for "everybody to come
and see to Miss Celia."

He turned to mount, for he had flung himself off before Lita stopped,
but the old lady caught his jacket and asked half a dozen questions in
a breath.

"Who's your folks? What's broke? How'd she fall? Where is she? Why
didn't she come right here? Is it a sunstroke?"

As fast as words could tumble out of his mouth Ben answered, and then
tried to free himself, but the old lady held on while she gave her
directions, expressed her sympathy, and offered her hospitality with
incoherent warmth.

"Sakes alive! poor dear! Fetch her right in. Liddy, get out the
camphire, and Melissy, you haul down a bed to lay her on. Falls is
dretful uncert'in things; shouldn't wonder if her back was broke.
Father's down yender, and he and Bijah will see to her. You go call
'em, and I'll blow the horn to start 'em up. Tell her we'll be pleased
to see her, and it wont make a mite of trouble."

Ben heard no more, for as Mrs. Paine turned to take down the tin horn
he was up and away.

Several long and dismal toots sent Lita galloping through the grassy
path as the sound of the trumpet excites a war-horse, and "father and
Bijah," alarmed by the signal at that hour, leaned on their rakes to
survey with wonder the distracted-looking little horseman approaching
like a whirlwind.

"Guess likely grandpa's had 'nother stroke. Told 'em to send over
soon's ever it come," said the farmer calmly.

"Shouldn't wonder ef suthing was afire some'r's," conjectured the
hired man, surveying the horizon for a cloud of sm