the open gate of our own lane before me. Would the horses go
through without hitting a gate post? Would they run into a fence or over
a pile of stones at one side? My heart was in my mouth. I jerked the
reins in a vain attempt to guide them, but on they went, pell-mell,
making straight for the open gate. Presently I saw some one rush from
the house and then another person come flying from the stables. Just
before we reached the gate, it was flung to with a bang. The horses
pranced, swung a little to one side and stopped short, and I heard some
one say, 'So, Barney, so Pet!' I didn't know what happened next but the
first thing I knew I was lying on the lounge in the sitting-room, my
mother bending over me, and holding a bottle of salts to my nose, 'Oh,
dear, oh, dear,' my mother was crying, 'another minute and the child
might have been killed.'"

"Who was it shut the gate?" asked Allen eagerly.

"Amanda's mother, who was living with us at that time."

"And who caught the horses?" queried Ted.

"Jim Doughty, who was our hired man."

"Weren't you nearly frightened to death?" Lulie put the question.

"Very nearly, and so was my father. He was as pale as a ghost when he
got home. He had to walk all the way, and said he thought he should
never get there. The country wasn't as thickly settled as it is now, and
there were no houses between us and the spot where the horses took
fright."

"Where is the place you lived?" asked Allen.

"About five miles from here."

"I should like to see it," said the boy musingly. "I suppose those
horses are dead. I'd like to see horses that could run like that."

"They would be somewhere in the neighborhood of sixty-five or seventy
years old by this time," said grandma with a smile, "and the oldest
horse I ever knew was forty."

"Gee! but that was old," remarked Frank. "Whose was it, grandma? Yours?"

"No, my grandfather's. Her name was Dolly, and she took my grandparents
to church every Sunday for many years, up to a little while before she
died. Now, Emmeline, let's hear about the ball."

"It was just a ball," began Aunt Emmeline.

"The County Ball," put in grandma. "They always have one every year at
Fair time. Emmeline was sixteen and I was eighteen. Now go on,
Emmeline."

"I wore white tarlatan trimmed with forget-me-nots," said Aunt Emmeline,
"and I danced my first dance with Steve Hardesty." She paused and gave a
little sigh. "He took me into supper, too, poor Steve." Gra