“I am sure, Mr. Granger, I’m under a deep debt of gratitude to you for your hospitality, and under a still deeper one to your daughter, but I hope to thank her personally for that.” “Never speak of it,” said the clergyman. “Hot water and blankets don’t cost much, and you will have to pay for the brandy and the doctor. How is he, doctor?” “He is getting on very well indeed, Mr. Granger. But I daresay you find yourself rather stiff, Mr. Bingham. I see your head is pretty badly bruised.” “Yes,” he answered, laughing, “and so is my body. Shall I be able to go home to-day?” “I think so,” said the doctor, “but not before this evening. You had better keep quiet till then. You will be glad to hear that Miss Beatrice is getting on very well. Hers was a wonderful recovery, the most wonderful I ever saw. I had quite given her up, though I should have kept on the treatment for another hour. You ought to be grateful to Miss Beatrice, Mr. Bingham. But for her you would not have been here.” “I am most grateful,” he answered earnestly. “Shall I be able to see her to-day?” “Yes, I think so, some time this afternoon, say at three o’clock. Is that your little daughter? What a lovely child she is. Well, I will look in again about twelve. All that you require to do now is to keep quiet and rub in some arnica.” About an hour afterwards the servant girl brought Geoffrey some breakfast of tea and toast. He felt quite hungry, but when it came to the pinch he could not eat much. Effie, who was starving, made up for this deficiency, however; she ate all the toast and a couple of slices of bread and butter after it. Scarcely had they finished, when her father observed a shade of anxiety come upon his little daughter’s face. “What is it, Effie?” he asked. “I think,” replied Effie in evident trepidation, “I think that I hear mother outside and Anne too.” “Well, dear, they have come to see me.” “Yes, and to scold me because I ran away,” and the child drew nearer to her father in a fashion which would have made it clear to any observer that the relations between her and her mother were somewhat strained. Effie was right. Presently there was a knock at the door and Lady Honoria entered, calm and pale and elegant as ever. She was followed by a dark-eyed somewhat impertinent-looking French _bonne_, who held up her hands and ejaculated, “Mon Dieu!” as she appeared. “I thought so,” said Lady Honoria, speaking in French to the _bonne_. “There she is,” and she pointed at the runaway Effie with her parasol. “Mon Dieu!” said the woman again. “Vous voilà enfin, et moi, qui suis accablée de peur, et votre chère mère aussi; oh, mais que c’est méchant; et regardez donc, avec un soulier seulement. Mais c’est affreux!” “Hold your tongue,” said Geoffrey sharply, “and leave Miss Effie alone. She came to see me.” Anne ejaculated, “Mon Dieu!” once more and collapsed.