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It missed the prostrate dog, missed him with all four wheels; though the rear axle's housing smeared his snowy ruff with a blur of black grease. On went the machine for another ten feet, before it could halt. Then a chalk-faced delivery boy peered backward in fright, to see Lad getting painfully to his feet and holding perplexedly aloft his tiny right forepaw in token of the dislocated shoulder.
I inquired, picking up a rusty screw-bolt at my feet. "Ah!" said he, taking it from me with a nod, "know'd I dropped it 'ere some'eres. Ye see," he went on, "couldn't get another round 'ere to-night, and that cussed axle's got to be in place to-morra." "Yes?" said I. "Ah!" nodded the man; "chaise come in 'ere 'arf-an-hour ago wi' two gentlemen and a lady, in the Lord's own 'urry too.
"I hope you will be able to do something with it," she said sweetly, appealing directly to him. "I should thank you SO MUCH." He did not reply. Presently he looked up to the man who had brought her to the shanty, and said, "The axle's strained, but it's safe for five or six miles more of this road. I'll put the wheel on easily."
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