Christian life -- Juvenile fiction; England -- Juvenile fiction; Girls -- Juvenile fiction; Household employees -- Juvenile fiction
As no help came, she recovered herself, and valiantly tried to raise
poor Helen from the ground. This she found she could not do, so she
fetched a basin of warm water and a sponge, and bathed the cut, tying
a large pocket-handkerchief round it, and then, after placing a pillow
under Helen's head, dashed out of the house. Albert Edward darted after
her with a delightful bark, but he was ordered back immediately.
"Stay with missus, you bad dog, and take care of her till the doctor
comes!"
So back Albert Edward went, and lay down across Helen's feet with
a little wistful sigh. Peggy sped on to Mrs. Timson's, who was
fortunately at home.
"Dear heart!" she exclaimed, when the accident was made known to her.
"I'll go round to the poor dear at once! You'd best get the doctor, for
I've known 'em bleed to death afore any could get to 'em! Dr. Nairns be
the nearest, but 'tis six miles away. Run up to Farmer Bedford's. He
may send his lad and horse. Whatever you does, Peggy, be quick about
it."
There was no need to tell Peggy that. She was off like the wind, but,
alas Farmer Bedford and all his men were harvesting.
"Can you ride, my girl?" said Mrs. Bedford. "For we have our pony in
the stable. I could put a sack over him, and you're welcome to take him
if you like."
Peggy went to the stable, and eyed the white pony in terror.
"Would I be there double quick on him?"
"For certain you would. Here! We'll soon fix him; but, bless the girl!
You can't ride into Ferndale without a hat!"
Peggy put her hands up to her cap in dismay. But Mrs. Bedford seized
hold of a cotton sunbonnet, and clapped it over her head. Then she
assisted Peggy to mount.
But it was a dreadful moment to the inexperienced rider when the pony
ambled out of the yard. And before the gate was reached, he broke into
a canter, and over went Peggy, head foremost, into a heap of straw. She
picked herself up in a moment, and, barring a shaking, was none the
worse for her tumble; but nothing would induce her to mount again.
"I haven't the legs for ridin'," she explained; "and I'll not waste a
minute more time, but run off for the doctor at once."
Off she started, an odd little figure in her print gown and apron, and
a sunbonnet perched on the top of her cap. She soon found that too much
speed was a mistake, and she relapsed into a slow jog-trot along the
hot, dusty highroad. Oh, what an interminable way it seemed!
The sun beat fiercely down, and Peggy began to fear that her breath and
strength would give out. On she toiled, and at length raised a hot,
streaming face to the sky—
"Oh God, I arsks you to make me keep on, for 'tis my missus's life
I'm a-thinkin' of. I arsks you to make the road shorter, or my legs
stronger!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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