“Well, you see,” she began—
“Pardon me, dearest,” interrupted Charley, “if you would please to look at me you would observe that my two eyes are tightly closed, so that I don’t see at all.”
“Well, then, you must understand—”
“Must I? Oh!—”
“That after that wicked horse leaped with you over the stable fence, you were thrown high into the air, and turning completely round, fell head foremost into the snow, and your poor head went through the top of an old cask that had been buried there all winter.”
“Dear me!” ejaculated Charley; “did anyone see me, Kate?”
“Oh yes.”
“Who?” asked Charley, somewhat anxiously; “not Mrs. Grant, I hope? for if she did she’d never let me hear the last of it.”
“No; only our father, who was chasing you at the time,” replied Kate, with a merry laugh.
“And no one else?”