"Oh, I'll help you," declared Joel, getting up to run over and put his hands under Bingley's arms, paling as he exclaimed, "I didn't mean to hurt you so, Bingley, on my honor I didn't."
"And you didn't," said Bingley, wincing with the pain, as Joel slowly drew him to his feet; "it wasn't your stinger of a blow, Pepper, but some of those dastardly cads stepped all over me; I could feel them hoofing me. There, set me in that chair, and I'll draw a long breath if I can."
"Now, I shall go for a doctor," declared Joel, setting Bingley within the easy-chair, and making a second dash for the door.
"I tell you, you will not," cried Bingley, from his chair. "Wait a minute, till I see where I'm hurt. I'm coming out of it better than I thought. Come back, Pepper."
"Really?" Joel drew off from the door, and looked at him.
"Yes; go and take care of Dobbs; he was only shamming," said Bingley, leaning his head comfortably on the chair-back. Dobbs already was on his feet, and slowly standing quite straight.
"Sure you don't want any help?" asked Joel, putting out his hand.
"Thanks, no," said Dobbs scornfully, not looking at the hand, but making for the door.
"Let him alone, Pepper," advised Bingley; "a mean, low-lived chap like that isn't hurt; you couldn't kill him," as Joel looked out anxiously to watch Dobbs' progress along the hall, at last following him along a bit.
"He's in his own room, thank fortune," exclaimed Joel, coming back, "and I suppose I can't do any more. But oh, I do wish, Bingley, it hadn't happened."