VANE'S AUNT
"I should have been killed to a certainty but for the way in which he got me out of the way," said Gwen to Mrs. Perage, when recounting her adventure, and speaking rather incoherently, for the same had shaken her nerves.
Mrs. Perage growled. She was a gaunt, dark-brewed old lady, with a formidable frown and a very determined character. "All's well that ends well," she said in a deep contralto voice, which suggested that of a man. "It might have been worse but for this hero of yours. Did you take the number of the car?"
"My goodness!" cried the girl pettishly. "How could I, when I was lying on my back in the ditch under the churchyard hedge? The car passed like a flash."
"Daresay," sniffed Mrs. Perage aggressively. "Having done wrong, the chauffeur got out of the way. We'll make inquiries and prosecute. I'd hang every one of those road-hogs if I had my way."
"Oh, I don't think it is worth making a fuss about," said Gwen quickly. "I am all right, and his ankle will soon be quite well. I fetched the doctor as soon as I got him to Mrs. Bell's, and there are no bones broken. He will be out and about in a few days."
"His--him--he," said Mrs. Perage sharply. "How indefinite you are. What's the name of your Achilles?"
"Hench. Mr. Hench. So Mrs. Bell told me, and he's been with her for nearly a whole week."
"Hench!" Mrs. Perage rubbed her beaky nose and reflected. "Why, that's the name of Jim's friend he wrote me about. There was a letter of introduction given. Hum! And he's been a week in Cookley without calling. That doesn't look as if he wished to make my acquaintance, Gwen."
"Perhaps he's down here on business," suggested the girl, "and did not wish to call on any one until he was free."