'Look out!' Midmore shouted. His legs were whirled from under him, as the table, grunting madly, careened and knocked the girl out of sight.
The wild boar of Asia could not have cut down a couple more scientifically, but this little pig lacked his ancestor's nerve and fled shrieking over their bodies.
'Are you hurt, darling?' was Midmore's first word, and 'No--I'm only winded--dear,' was Miss Sperrit's, as he lifted her out of her corner, her hat over one eye and her right cheek a smear of mud.
They fed him a little later on some chicken-feed that they found in Sidney's quiet barn, a pail of buttermilk out of the dairy, and a quantity of onions from a shelf in the back-kitchen.
'Seed-onions, most likely,' said Connie. 'You'll hear about this.'
'What does it matter? They ought to have been gilded. We must buy him.'
'And keep him as long as he lives,' she agreed. 'But I think I ought to go home now. You see, when I came out I didn't expect ... Did you?'
'No! Yes.... It had to come.... But if any one had told me an hour ago!... Sidney's unspeakable parlour--and the mud on the carpet.'
'Oh, I say! Is my cheek clean now?'
'Not quite. Lend me your hanky again a minute, darling.... What a purler you came!'