"Well, you can't be more than sorry, can you, Nonie? Don't bother about anything now, but just tell me where you are hurt."
"Oh, it's my back. Oh, don't touch me; it's dreadful!"
Squire Lorrimer's face looked very grave.
"Where did she fall from, Kitty?" he asked.
Kitty pointed to the gash made in the beech-tree by the broken bough.
"Over twenty feet," murmured the Squire to himself. "God help my poor little girl!"
"Look here, Kitty," he said aloud, "Nora is in a good deal of pain; but I hope we'll soon have her easier. We must try and get her home somehow, and it would be a good thing if your mother were here; you had better fetch her. Don't frighten her, Kit, for Nora may not be badly hurt after all; but bring her here as quickly as you can, and Guy, too, and Molly; they are both strong, and have their wits about them. We must contrive a litter of some sort. Now, be quick and find the folks."
"Yes," replied Kitty, who was almost happy again under the influence of her father's encouraging words.
She was soon out of sight, and in less than half an hour Mrs. Lorrimer, Jane Macalister, and every other member of the picnic party, were gathered round the prostrate figure of little Nora.