But Janie had not time to think anything. She only saw that the perambulator was not empty; she only took in that it must be stopped. She would not have been frightened, even if she had thought the dog was mad, for she was very brave. But she knew that her voice would have no power over him, and she made her plan in a moment. Just as the wildly excited dog came close to her—luckily just then he was going pretty evenly—she threw herself in his way, which made him slacken his pace, and then, somehow or other, she got hold of the edge of the carriage, holding on to it with all her strength, and she was very strong for her size. And then—what happened exactly she could not tell—I fancy Fuzzy must have given a bound forward to get rid of this troublesome interruption to his grand race—but before she knew where she was they were all in a jumbled-up heap on the ground, Janie, Baby Dolly, perambulator, and dog—Fuzzy barking loudly; baby, Janie was thankful to hear, crying and roaring, but, as far as the small sister-nurse could make out, unhurt.
She had got her safely in her motherly little arms by the time Leigh came up. The first thing he did was to seize hold of the reins which had been dragging behind, for after a glance had shown him that the baby was in good hands, Leigh’s next thought was for the new perambulator.
“She’s not hurt?” he exclaimed.
“No, no, sir. I think not,” said Janie. “She fell soft—right atop of me, Master Leigh. Hush, hush now, Miss Baby dear. Don’t ’ee cry. There’s Miss Mary a-coming along. Hush, hush, my dearie.”
And in surprise at the strange voice, and pleased by the sweet tones, Dolly actually did leave off crying. She opened her eyes wide, and by degrees a smile—a real smile—crept out of her mouth, and brightened up all the little face, still shining with tears. So that when poor wee Mary, all out of breath, and white with fear for her darling sister, came up to the little group, Janie was able to say, while Dolly stretched out her hands in welcome—
“She’s not hurt, Miss Mary, dear. She’s not hurt.”
Leigh by this time had unfastened Fuzz, and set the perambulator on its legs, or wheels, again. He was all trembling; and though it was not a hot day of course, the drops were standing out on his forehead. Wonderful to say, the perambulator was not broken or spoilt.
“Oh Mary,” said Leigh. He could scarcely speak. “Oh Janie, I don’t know how to thank you.”
Janie opened her eyes. It had never come into her head that she had done anything to be thanked for. But she was, as I said, very sensible.
“Master Leigh,” she replied, “I couldn’t a’ done less—that’s nothing. But I can’t think how Mrs Nurse could a’ let you do such a thing.”