But she stopped him with: “At any rate, you must halt and offer him help. And those children—I hope none of them has been hurt.”
“Pooh! you couldn’t hurt kids like those,” declared Bob.
But he brought the horses down to a walk and the yellow coach approached the scene of the accident at a temperate pace.
The big farm-wagon, the body of which had been filled with straw for the youngsters to ride in, had been pulled to the side of the road out of the way of passing vehicles. It was clear that the smashed wheel was past repair by any amateur means, for several spokes were broken, and the hub was split.
The youngsters whom Mr. Caslon had taken aboard at the railway station in Darrowtown were dancing about and yelling like wild Indians. As the coach came nearer, the excited party upon it could more carefully count the blue-clad figures, and it was proved that there were twelve.
Six girls were in blue gingham frocks, all alike, and all made “skimpy” and awkward looking. The six boys were in new blue overalls and cotton shirts. The overalls seemed all of one size, although the boys were not. They must have been purchased at the store of one size, and whether a boy was six, or twelve, he wore the same number.
Each of the children, too, carried a more or less neatly made up parcel, the outer covering of which was a blue and white bandanna, and the contents of which was the change of clothing the institution allowed them.
“What a terrible noise they make!” sighed Mrs. Steele. “And they are perfect little terrors, I suppose. But they are clean.”
They had not been out of the sight of the institution nurse long enough to be otherwise, for she had come as far as Darrowtown with them. But they were noisy, sure enough, for each one was trying to tell his or her mates how he or she felt when the wheel crashed and the wagon went over.