“You can tell him in the fly, if you like,” said Moore. I was not sure if he said it to tease me or if he were in earnest. I preferred to think the former, especially as it showed that he could not be in any very great suffering if he were equal to teasing!
“I wish the fly would come,” was the only reply I condescended to make.
“So do I,” began Moore, and his rather plaintive tone made me very sorry for him again.
“Is your foot—” I was just going to ask, when the welcome sound of approaching wheels caught my ears. Our unknown friend had lost no time!
“Here it is,” I exclaimed, “I must run to meet it, Moore.”
I was not a moment too soon. The man was driving quickly, and I inferred that the stranger had not ventured to prevent his doing so, as he doubtless was in hopes of still catching the train he had been ordered for. And the reception of my first call was not encouraging.
“Stop, please,” I cried. “Do stop for a moment.”
“Can’t,” was the reply; “I’m bound to catch the London express. You must send your order to the inn.”
“It’s not an order,” I replied. “Some one, my brother, has had an accident, and is lying on the road,” and I pointed towards the spot. “You must stop in common humanity. We are staying at the Manor-house, Mr Wynyard’s.”