“Help!” she said, with a stony little laugh; “oh, no, thanks!”
She left the gate, and crossed the road to where he held the horse. Shelton, to conceal embarrassment, looked at the horse's legs, and noticed that the grey was resting one of them. He ran his hand down.
“I 'm afraid,” he said, “your horse has knocked his off knee; it's swelling.”
She smiled again.
“Then we're both cripples.”
“He'll be lame when he gets cold. Would n't you like to put him in the stable here? I 'm sure you ought to drive home.”
“No, thanks; if I 'm able to ride him he can carry me. Give me a hand up.”
Her voice sounded as though something had offended her. Rising from inspection of the horse's leg, Shelton saw Antonia and Toddles standing by. They had come through a wicketgate leading from the fields.
The latter ran up to him at once.
“We saw it,” he whispered—“jolly smash-up. Can't I help?”