“We both live at Windsor, sir; Harris has a younger brother, but no father or mother; and if Ted only gets over this, he need never know anything about it. We were going to start on a long driving trip to-morrow; so we're not expected up at Windsor, and Ted's the kind of fellow, Dr. Arnold, that if he found out that people knew about a scrape like this, I believe he'd grow perfectly reckless, and there wouldn't be any such thing as saving him;” and there was such suppressed earnestness in the young fellow's voice that no one could have doubted his sincerity for a moment.
“But the accident to-night, just how did that happen?”
“I think—yes, I'm sure—Ted had taken a little too much; but we would have gotten home all right but for”—nodding in the direction of Mrs. Hartley's best room. “There was no doing anything with them, and finally one of them tried to get the reins from Ted, and then the horses, that need to be carefully handled at best, broke into a clean run. Where they are now, land knows!”
“Mr. Allyn,” said Dr. Arnold, after several minutes of suspense, “if Mr. Harris's condition proves not to be serious I will do what I can to shield you both.”
“Oh, don't bother about me,” as though he honestly felt he was not worth it.
“Yes, I will bother about you, for since you told me you live at Windsor, I begin to suspect you are Canon Allyn's son.”
“The more's the pity, Dr. Arnold.”
“The more's the reason for my doing all in my power to give both of you another chance But we won't talk any more. Now wrap yourself in that comforter Chris has laid in the chair for you, and try and get a little sleep.”
All this while poor wayward Ted, whose name you must have guessed almost from the first, was lying wholly oblivious to everything about him, muttering now and then a few delirious, incoherent words, and yet by degrees subsiding into a gentle, regular breathing that the professional ear was quick to detect, and that was full of good omen for the waking in the morning.