The weather was fine, and Ellen thought with herself, it was an ill wind that blew no good. She was getting a nice ride in the early morning, that she would not have had but for Timothy's lawless behaviour. To ride at that time was particularly pleasant and rare; and, forgetting how she had left poor Miss Fortune, between the ox and the cheese-tub, Ellen and the Brownie cantered on in excellent spirits.
She looked in vain, as she passed his grounds, to see Mr. Van Brunt in the garden or about the barn. She went on to the little gate of the courtyard, dismounted, and led the Brownie in. Here she was met by Nancy, who came running from the way of the barnyard.
"How d'ye do, Nancy?" said Ellen; "where's Mr. Van Brunt?"
"Goodness, Ellen! what do you want?"
"I want Mr. Van Brunt where is he?"
"Mr. Van Brunt! he's out in the barn; but he's used himself up."
"Used himself up; what do you mean?"
"Why, he's fixed himself in fine style he's fell though the trapdoor, and broke his leg."
"Oh, Nancy!" screamed Ellen "he hasn't! How could he?"
"Why, easy enough, if he didn't look where he was going there's so much hay on the floor. But it's a pretty bad place to fall."