"Not hurt, I hope?" asked the Colonel.
"No—ah—Colonel Vivian, I thank you; but I must apologise to Miss Vivian. It must have astonished her. Ah, she is gone," said Simpson, who was, if possible, of a more rosy hue than ever.
"Oh, Mildred's all right," put in Jack; "it's not the first time she has seen a man down by many a hundred, nor will it be the last if hounds run to-morrow. Which is my room, uncle? I'll show Simpson his too. It's nearly time to dress."
"You are in your old quarters, Jack, and Mr. Simpson is in the bachelor's room, which, I hope, he will find comfortable," said his uncle.
"Come on then, Simpson; I'll take you to your diggings, and then I'll go and see Phillips the stud-groom, and tell him to show your man where to put himself and his horses too," continued Jack, and out they went.
"What a ridiculous contretemps!" said Florence as the door closed. "I never saw anything half so funny as Mr. Simpson's face. My dear Ethel, I thought I should have died."
"I thought I should have been smothered," replied Ethel. "I shall never be able to look Mr. Simpson in the face again."
Mr. Wilton, who had hitherto been a silent spectator, here interrupted with "I am afraid the gentleman is not in the same happy state as Wingfield's horse, for I distinctly heard him as he fell utter a most unangelic word beginning with a D."
"A falling angel can't be particular," said Tom. "What do you say, Colonel?"
"I say that it's very wrong of you to make fun of our guest, and that if you don't go to dress at once you will be all late for dinner;" with which the master of the house walked out of the room followed by the rest.