“It does not seem like it,” said Ralph, smiling. “Look, he is browsing on the thick grass down there.”
“Is—is my face much scratched?”
“Hardly at all,” said Ralph.
“Then thank you so for stopping him; I was so frightened. Ah, look! there’s Master Rayburn.”
She clapped her hands with delight, as she caught sight of the old man, hatless, and with his white hair flying, running down the path. Then turning, back to Ralph, she said, naïvely:
“Please, who are you? Oh, I know now. I haven’t seen you for two years, and—”
She shrank away from him in a peculiarly cold and distant manner, and at that moment Master Rayburn panted up.
“Much hurt, my dear?” he cried excitedly, as he caught the girl in his arms.
“No, no, I think not,” she said, beginning to sob anew.
“Thank God! thank God!” cried the old man fervently.—“Hah! My heart was in my mouth. Why can’t people be content to walk? Come back home with me, my child. Here, Ralph Darley, how was it? Did you stop the brute?”