"If you leave me I'll die!" she shrieked to the other two, who were making off at a great rate. They turned and saw her face purple with fright, while the old woman, the man, and the little dog on the other side saw her long legs kicking so wildly that they looked several pairs instead of one. With heroism, genuine, if unnecessary, Margery and Amy stopped and turned back to their imprisoned comrade. They reached her head just as a hand touched her back. With a scream that made them sure that she had at least been stabbed, Trix made one last, desperate effort to get away, and was still.
"Let me help you," said the man gently. "Pray, don't be so frightened. Indeed, my little dog would never hurt you, and as soon as I can get you off she shall apologize for frightening you so badly."
So saying he extricated Trix's dress, and set her on her feet. His touch was so careful that Trix plucked up heart to look at him. He was not old, he was not ugly. Trix felt sure that if she had met him elsewhere and otherwise she should have liked him.
"Weren't there more little girls?" he asked, laughing. "It seemed to me a dozen started up from the grass when Sheila barked."
"Two, sir," Trix murmured faintly. "They are on the other side."
He came closer, and looked over.
"Please come back a moment, and let Sheila apologize," he said, and Margery and Amy dared not refuse.
They crawled back, and the man turned to the dog.
"Sit up, Sheila; say you're very sorry," he commanded.
Sheila sat up at once and whined.