Maria was looking pale; quite white. George, in much concern, untied her bonnet-strings. “Maria, I fear you are hurt!”
“Indeed I am not—as I believe,” she answered. “Why do you think so?”
“Because you are not looking well.”
“I was startled at the time; frightened. I shall get over it directly, George.”
“I think you had better see a doctor. I suppose there’s a decent one to be found in the town.”
“Oh no!” returned Maria, with much emphasis, in her surprise. “See a doctor because I slipped down a little? Why, George, that would be foolish! I have often jumped from a higher height than that. Do you remember the old wall at the Rectory? We children were for ever jumping from it.”
“That was one time, and this is another, Mrs. George Godolphin,” said he, significantly.
Maria laughed. “Only fancy the absurdity, George! Were a doctor called in, his first question would be, ‘Where are you hurt, madame?’ ‘Not anywhere, monsieur,’ would be my reply. ‘Then what do you want with me?’ he would say, and how foolish I should look!”
George laughed too, and resigned the point. “You are the better judge, of course, Maria. Margery,” he continued—for Margery, at that moment, entered the room—“your mistress has had a fall.”
“A fall!” uttered Margery, in her abrupt way, as she turned to regard Maria.