sive moment; for the
driver of the phaeton could scarcely, with the best will in the world,
have otherwise avoided mischief, though he pulled his horses back on
their hindquarters in the sudden alarm. Theo Warrender flung himself
under the very hoofs of the dashing bays. He seized the child and flung
him out on the edge of the road, but was himself knocked down, and lay
for a moment not knowing how much he was himself hurt, and paralysed
by terror for the child, whom he had recognised in the flash of the
catastrophe. There was a whirl of noise for a moment, loud shrieks from
the lady, the grinding of the suddenly stopped wheels, the prancing
and champing of the horses, the loud exclamations of the man who was
driving, to the groom who sprang out from behind, and to his shrieking
companion. The groom raised Geoff's head, and propped him on the grass
at the roadside, while Warrender crept out from the dangerous position
he occupied, his heart sick with alarm. "He's coming to," said the groom.
"There is no harm done. The gentleman's more hurt than the boy." "There
is nothing the matter with me," cried Warrender, though the blood was
pouring from his forehead, making bubbles in the dust. When Geoff opened
his eyes he had a vision first of that anxious, blood-stained countenance;
then of a bearded face in an atmosphere of cigar smoke, which reminded
him strangely, in the dizziness of returning consciousness, of his
father, while the carriage, the impatient bays, the lady looking down
from her high seat, were like a picture behind. He could not remember at
first what it was all about. The bearded man knelt beside him, feeling
him all over. "Does anything hurt you, little chap? Come, that's brave.
I think there's nothing wrong."

"But look at Theo! Theo's all bleeding," said Geoff, trying to raise
himself up.

"It's nothing,--a trifle," said Warrender, feeling, though faint, angry
that the attention of the stranger should be directed to his ghastly
countenance. He added, "Don't wait on account of him. If you will let
your man catch the pony, I'll take him home."

Then the lady screamed from the phaeton that the little darling must be
given to her, that he was not fit to get on that pony again, that he
must be driven to Underwood. She called her companion to her, who swore
by Jove, and plucked at his moustache, and consulted with the groom, who
by some chance knew who the child was. The end of the discussion was
that Geoff,