Thanks to the turf-cutter's generous assistance, in a very short time Mr. Larry Flood was enabled to come forward and announce to his fare, who had dusted her dress from bog-mould and taken a seat on a piece of wood, that "he was ready, if she was."
The young lady accordingly rose, and followed him, and gravely inspected the turn-out. The car was all down on one side still—the result of a spring broken in the late collision—but the reins had been knotted together, and the shaft was tied up with a piece of twine.
"It will hould all right," said Larry, following her eyes. "Any way, it will carry your distance, I'll go bail."
"Thank you; but I'm not going to try the experiment. I'm stiff enough as it is; and one fall in the day is ample for the present."
"Fall! What fall? Sure ye only jumped off the car. Diden't I see you with me own two eyes? And 'tis yourself that has them nice and tight under yow! and in elegant proportion!—Meaning your ankles, Miss,—and no offence."
"All the same I shall walk, fall or no fall," returned his late passenger, with a scarlet face.
"You are a good mile off it yet," expostulated Larry. "How will you get there?"
"On foot."
"And your bag; is that going on foot as well?"
"Perhaps you would leave it as you pass?"