“Don’t make a fuss, mother! Nothing’s the matter. That darned silly horse—”
Sudden tears stood in Isabel’s eyes. “To see you down underneath—dragging—oh—” Then with shaking hands she began to brush the snow from him.
“Let me alone,” he protested. “You’ll ruin your gloves. You’re getting snow all over you, and—”
“No, no!” she cried. “You’ll catch cold; you mustn’t catch cold!” And she continued to brush him.
Amberson had brought Lucy’s hat; Miss Fanny acted as lady’s-maid; and both victims of the accident were presently restored to about their usual appearance and condition of apparel. In fact, encouraged by the two older gentlemen, the entire party, with one exception, decided that the episode was after all a merry one, and began to laugh about it. But George was glummer than the December twilight now swiftly closing in.
“That darned horse!” he said.
“I wouldn’t bother about Pendennis, Georgie,” said his uncle. “You can send a man out for what’s left of the cutter tomorrow, and Pendennis will gallop straight home to his stable: he’ll be there a long while before we will, because all we’ve got to depend on to get us home is Gene Morgan’s broken-down chafing-dish yonder.”
They were approaching the machine as he spoke, and his friend, again underneath it, heard him. He emerged, smiling. “She’ll go,” he said.
“What!”
“All aboard!”