Then he turned to Mr Maplestone, and roared at him:—
“What on earth did you mean by letting go?”
Then Mr Maplestone turned to the valet, and roared at him:—
“Why the dickens couldn’t you come, instead of hanging about all day?”
Then they all turned on me, and chorused, “Get up! Get up!” and I tried to get up, and the caught streamers of my dress held me fast, and I sat down heavily again—plop, right on top of the poor gouty feet. The General roared more loudly than before, the two other men called out, “Oh, oh!” and I felt as if I should go into hysterics myself. It was a most lacerating scene.
Mr Maplestone took out his penknife and hacked at the ends of my skirt; the valet, who was the only calm and sensible one of the party, lifted me up, and supported me in his arms till I was set free. Then he let go suddenly, and I was so weak and giddy that I nearly fell down a third time. The General closed his eyes and emitted heart-rending groans, and the valet nipped hold of the handle of the chair and made for home as fast as he could go. I stood in the midst of my rags and tatters, and Mr Maplestone stood by my side.
“I hope you are not hurt.”
“Oh, not at all!” I said bitterly. I was aching from head to foot. To judge from my sensations, my right arm was paralysed for life. In some mysterious way a wheel seemed to have passed over my feet, and my toes burned like fire. Perhaps they were broken—I could not tell. I had likewise several scrapes and a whole army of bruises, and the skirt of one of my nicest afternoon frocks was torn into ribbons. And not one word of thanks or appreciation. No wonder I was riled. “Oh, not at all. I like it! I am only sorry that I have contrived to hurt General Underwood. Perhaps you will kindly convey my apologies.”
He looked at me critically. Aches don’t show on the surface, and I expect I looked rather red than pale. The only visible signs of damage were the ends of muslin and lace which strewed the road. He looked at them and said solemnly:—
“Your dress is spoiled! I’m afraid it was partly my fault. I had to get you free, and it was not a moment for deliberation. I’m sorry!”