"Why, Mrs. Sanford!" he said, recognizing the voice. "What has happened? Are you hurt?"
Being recognized, the lady uncovered her face, and said with acerbity,—
"If I'm not killed, I'm sure it isn't my fault. I am so shaken, I doubt I shall ever get over it."
The young man, being fortunately alone, took the lady into his own carriage and drove on, leaving the wreck of the buggy to Will's care.
"I doubt but it's a forerunner of a bad sign," Mrs. Sanford said as they drove along. "I always heard it was unlucky to break down."
"It was lucky for me, at least," young Toxteth answered gallantly. "I am glad you were not hurt."
"But the shock to my mind, I being as fleshy as I am," she returned rather illogically, "was dreadful."
They drove smoothly along, Clarence secretly considering how he might best broach a subject of which his mind was full.
"I've wanted to see you for a long time," he began.
"Those that want to see me," Mrs. Sanford retorted, in a tone which showed that her temper had been a little shaken by her mishap, "usually come where I am."