"Really," began Charley, but without waiting to hear him, Georgia bounded off, and clambering up the bank with two or three flying leaps reached the high road, and rushed impetuously along toward the cottage.
"There's an original for you," said the proprietor of the sprained ankle, looking after Georgia. "Well, this sprained ankle is mighty pleasant, I must say. If the old lady comes down she'll have to carry me on her back, for walk I won't."
Georgia, meanwhile, on charitable thoughts intent, rushed along where she was going, and the consequence was that she ran with stunning force against some person or persons unknown advancing from the opposite direction.
"Heads up!" said a pleasant voice; and Georgia, who betrayed symptoms of an insane desire to pitch head over heels, was restored to her center of gravity. "Rather an energetic mode of doing business this, I must say."
Georgia looked up, and jerked herself from the grasp of the stranger, a young man, dressed in a student's plain suit of black, who stood looking at her with a smile.
"What did you run against me for?" said Georgia, with one of her scowls, instantly taking the offensive.
"Run against you! Why, you are reversing cases, madam. Allow me to insinuate that you ran against me."
"I didn't, either! I mean I shouldn't if you hadn't poked yourself right in my way." Then, as a sudden idea struck her, she breathlessly resumed: "Oh, yes; you'll do better than Miss Jerusha! Come along with me to the beach, and help him up!" said Georgia, gesticulating with much earnestness.
"Help who up, my impetuous little lady?" said the young man, with a smile.
"Why, him, you know! He tumbled off—I knew he would all along—and went and sprained his ankle, and now he can't get up. It hurts him, I know, though he don't make a fuss or nothing, but talks and looks droll—nice fellow, I know he is! Help him up to our house, and Miss Jerusha'll fix him off, she will! Come! come along, can't you?"