"Oh dear, oh dear!" said she. "No; I am not hurt; at least I think not—only just my arm a very little. Where is Emmeline? Is Emmeline hurt?"
"No," said Emmeline, picking herself up. "But, oh dear, dear, I've lost my muff, and I've spoiled my hat! Where are Mary and Aunt Letty?"
After some considerable confusion it was found that nothing was much damaged except the car, one shaft of which was broken altogether in two. Lady Clara's arm was bruised and rather sore, but the three other ladies had altogether escaped. The quantity of clothes that had been wrapped round them had no doubt enabled them to fall softly.
"And what about the horse, Richard?" asked young Fitzgerald.
"He didn't come upon his knees at all at all, Master Herbert," said Richard, scrutinizing the animal's legs with the car lamp in his hand. "I don't think he's a taste the worse. But the car, Master Herbert, is clane smashed."
Such being found to be undoubtedly the fact, there was nothing for it but that the ladies should walk home. Herbert again forgot that the age of his aunt imperatively demanded all the assistance that he could lend her, and with many lamentations that fortune and the frost should have used her so cruelly, he gave his arm to Clara.
"But do think of Miss Fitzgerald," said Clara, speaking gently into his ear.
"Who? oh, my aunt. Aunt Letty never cares for anybody's arm; she always prefers walking alone."
"Fie, Mr. Fitzgerald, fie! It is impossible to believe such an assertion as that." And yet Clara did seem to believe it; for she took his proffered arm without further objection.
It was half-past seven when they reached the hall door, and at that time they had all forgotten the misfortune of the car in the fun of the dark frosty walk home. Herbert had found a boy to lead his horse, and Richard was of course left with the ruins in the road.