as riding along one day in the park below our house when she seen a
girl go riding by, with some others and a young man or two, on
horseback, bouncing along bumpety-bump, rising up every jump as though
the saddle hurt 'em. One of the girls was on a mean horse, but she was
going pretty well and didn't seem to mind it. But this horse he taken a
scare at a automobile that was letting off steam, and, first thing you
know, up went the horse in front and the girl got a fall.

There wasn't any of them very good riders, and this horse, being a bad
actor, scared the others. They all bolted off, not seeming to know that
this girl had fell off. She lit on her head.

Bonnie Bell seen all this happen, and she gets out of her car on the
keen lope and runs over to where the girl is and picks her up. Her and
a policeman took her in Bonnie Bell's brougham. She didn't know nothing
yet, being jolted some on the head.

Now that girl was pretty as a picture herself, with light hair and blue
eyes, and kind of a big mouth. She was smiling even when she didn't know
a thing. She was always smiling. She was dressed like she had lots of
money; and she was fixed for riding--boots and some sort of pants.

Bonnie Bell couldn't bring her to and she concludes to take her home to
our house. First thing I know, there she was outside, hollering for me.

"Come here quick, Curly!" says she. "Come help me carry her into the
house."

So I helped her. The girl still had her quirt in her hand and she was
kind of white.

"Who is she, Bonnie Bell?" says I; and she says she didn't know, and
tells me to go and get a doctor.

But while I was getting William to telephone--I couldn't use them things
much myself--the girl comes to, all right; and she sets up and rubs her
head.

"Oh, what do you know about that!" says she. "He got me off. I thank you
so much. Which way did he go?" she ast.

"He was headed to the riding-school barn," says Bonnie Bell, "the last I
saw of him. Your friends were all going the same way. So I thought the
best thing I could do was to bring you here till you felt better."

I don't reckon the girl was hurt bad, she being young; and such girls is
tough.

"Well," says she, "it certainly was nice of you. And how am I to thank
you?" She kissed Bonnie Bell then for luck. "You're nice," says she,
"and I like you."

Bonnie Bell, if you'll believe me, was kind of timid and scared, with it
being so long since any woman had said a kind wo