"Not yet; and I shall find it difficult to do so," said Mr. Falconer.
"Thanks are poor return for one's life, Mr. Orme. I hope you were not
hurt." He glanced at Stafford's usually immaculate dress-clothes, which
were covered with dust on one side, and displayed a rent in the sleeve
of the coat.

"Oh, that's all right, sir," returned Stafford, with all an
Englishman's dread of a fuss. "They stopped short the moment I got hold
of them, and I only slipped, and got up directly.

"You are not hurt, then, Stafford?" said Sir Stephen. "As I came up I
thought, was afraid that you were smashed up--and I daresay I showed my
fear: it's my only boy, Falconer."

He looked at his old friend meaningly, and Falconer promptly backed him
up.

"Well, yes, you looked fairly startled and scared," he said. "But now,
if the horses are all right, we may as well get on. We have given you
quite trouble enough."

"The horses are all right, sir," said the driver. "I've managed to take
up the broken trace; it was that that startled them, sir, and they'll
be quiet enough now."

"Oh, but where are you going?" said Sir Stephen, with hospitable
eagerness. "Were you not coming to us, to the Villa?"

"No; we were going to Keswick," said Mr. Falconer. "My daughter had a
fancy for seeing the lake district, and we are making a kind of tour."