Their hissing whispers had by this time attracted attention, and Bessie, the old family nurse in whose charge they were, beckoned to them from below with an austere frown.
“If you don’t both go back into the nursery this minute——”
There was no need to say more: in an instant the scampering of small feet, followed by the banging of an upper door, showed that the young people, who were known in the household as The Terrors, were for the moment quelled.
In the meantime the victim of the accident had been laid upon a bed in a darkened room, and Bessie and her master were looking at her with sympathetic interest.
“Why, the poor dear’s but a lass, sir,” said the sympathetic Bessie, as she loosened the girl’s clothes and peered keenly into the pale face.
“Yes, not more than eighteen or nineteen, I should think,” said Sir Robert. “She had a narrow escape. Search her clothes, Bessie, for some indication as to her name and address. Her people will be alarmed about her, whoever she is, and whoever they may be.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have a hunt as soon as the doctor’s here.”
She had not to wait long. And by the time the doctor had come, examined the patient, and reported that the victim was suffering from concussion of the brain and must be kept quiet, that she had sustained an injury to the right wrist and severe bruises, the old nurse had made a search of the girl’s pockets, and had discovered an opened letter in one of them directed to “Miss Rhoda Pembury” at an address in Deal.
This was enough for Sir Robert, who telegraphed at once to the address, to the name of Pembury, to the effect that Miss Rhoda had met with a slight accident, but that she was safe and going on well.
Within a couple of hours the girl’s father and mother had arrived at the Mill-house, and proved to be a London physician and his wife, who were staying at Deal with their family, of whom Rhoda was the eldest.