Prudence made an effort to sit up and laughed nervously.
“It’s so stupid,” she said, “A little thing like that! It’s nothing really.”
She was immensely relieved that no one save Graves had witnessed their arrival. It would have alarmed her father, and scandalised Agatha, to have seen her carried in like a baby. Major Stotford’s helpfulness had been in excess of what was necessary, she felt; with the aid of a strong arm she could have accomplished the journey herself.
“I’ve given you a lot of trouble. You’ve been awfully kind to me,” she said.
Before he could reply, Mr Graynor entered, concerned and fussy, followed by Agatha, who wore an expression of protest, and suggested frigid disapproval in the very rustle of her skirts.
“I always knew how it would end,” she exclaimed. “This doesn’t in the least surprise me.”
“Oh! it isn’t the end,” Major Stotford put in with a twinkling of amusement. “These little annoyances happen at the beginning. I don’t think there are any bones broken.”
Mr Graynor bent anxiously over Prudence and laid a hand on her hair.
“You’ve had an accident. Are you much hurt?” he asked.
“It’s nothing really,” she said, ashamed at the general fuss in front of a stranger. “I had a spill—a silly little spill which jarred my ankle. Major Stotford very kindly motored me home.”