aid Widgery. "Where are they?"

"Up there," he said, with a backward motion of his head. "About a mile
up the hill. I left 'em. I HAD to."

"I don't understand," said Mrs. Milton, with that rapt, painful look
again. "Have you found Jessie?"

"I have. I wish I could wash the gravel out of my hands somewhere. It
was like this, you know. Came on them suddenly round a corner. Horse
shied at the bicycles. They were sitting by the roadside botanising
flowers. I just had time to shout, 'Jessie Milton, we've been looking
for you,' and then that confounded brute bolted. I didn't dare turn
round. I had all my work to do to save myself being turned over, as it
was--so long as I did, I mean. I just shouted, 'Return to your friends.
All will be forgiven.' And off I came, clatter, clatter. Whether they
heard--"

"TAKE ME TO HER," said Mrs. Milton, with intensity, turning towards
Widgery.

"Certainly," said Widgery, suddenly becoming active. "How far is it,
Dangle?"

"Mile and a half or two miles. I was determined to find them, you know.
I say though--Look at my hands! But I beg your pardon, Mrs. Milton." He
turned to Phipps. "Phipps, I say, where shall I wash the gravel out? And
have a look at my knee?"

"There's the station," said Phipps, becoming helpful. Dangle made a
step, and a damaged knee became evident. "Take my arm," said Phipps.

"Where can we get a conveyance?" asked Widgery of two small boys.

The two small boys failed to understand. They looked at one another.

"There's not a cab, not a go-cart, in sight," said Widgery. "It's a case
of a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse."

"There's a harse all right," said one of the small boys with a movement
of the head.

"Don't you know where we can hire traps?" asked Widgery. "Or a cart
or--anything?" asked Mrs. Milton.

"John Ooker's gart a cart, but no one can't 'ire'n," said the larger of
the small boys, partially averting his face and staring down the road
and making a song of it. "And so's my feyther, for's leg us broke."

"Not a cart even! Evidently. What shall we do?"

It occurred to Mrs. Milton that if Widgery was the man for courtly
devotion, Dangle was infinitely readier of resource. "I suppose--" she
said, timidly. "Perhaps if you were to ask Mr. Dangle--"

And then all the gilt came off Widgery. He answered quite rudely.
"Confound Dangle! Hasn't he messed us up enough? He must needs drive
after them in a trap to tell them we're coming, and now yo