"That’s just it," said the Baroness, and Billy was more puzzled than ever. Feeling that he must get on to more comprehensible ground, he asked, "How did you lose the others?" "Probably very much as you did. Anyhow, here we are together, and I am very glad. I have enjoyed your society extremely. I shall remember our afternoon." The Baroness was destined to remember, for at that moment Billy’s pony put his foot in a rabbit hole and came down, throwing the child with some violence against the trunk of a tree. They were riding at the edge of the wood. The pony scrambled up and galloped off; but Billy lay quite still in a pathetic heap. The Baroness had pulled up her tall horse almost on to his haunches, for Billy had been thrown right in front of her. Now, with the reins over her arm, she was stooping over the prostrate Billy, while the nervous thoroughbred trembled and curvetted beside her. The Baroness was noted for the speed and grace with which she could mount or dismount. She lifted Billy in her arms. There was a big bruise on his temple, and he seemed stunned by the fall. His head rolled on to her shoulder, lying there heavily. Reaching for her flask from the pocket of her saddle, and with the reins still round her wrist, she sat down on the ground with Billy in her arms. She soaked her handkerchief in brandy, and dabbed his forehead, and, as if to aid her, there pattered down upon his upturned face the first drops of a cold November shower. The Baroness had faced many dangers in her time. To "scenes" of various kinds she was quite inured; but she trembled as Billy’s face touched her neck, and there was a look in her eyes that neither Mr. Rigby Folaire nor Lord Edward had ever seen there. Presently Billy stirred and opened his eyes, saying eagerly, "I’m all right, mother! It wasn’t Dalgo’s fault I fell off. It’s all right." Sitting up suddenly, he saw the Baroness, and knew where he was. But he had clung to her—she always remembered that. He scrambled to his feet, exclaiming, "I beg your pardon. Did I frighten you? I am so sorry"; then, turning very giddy, sat down again amongst the wet leaves. "I wonder if I ought to give him brandy," murmured the Baroness. She put her free arm round him, while the tall horse sniffed inquiringly at them both. The white mist crept higher among the trees and the rain grew heavier. Billy shivered. "We can’t sit here," said the Baroness decidedly. "You’ll have to ride Frivolity in front of me. I don’t know where your pony is, and if he has galloped home they will be in a dreadful state. So we must hurry. "How strong you are!" said Billy, admiringly, as she swung him up to the saddle in front of her—"and how kind!" He put his hand on hers that held the reins, her other arm was round him. Thus they rode home in the cold gloom of that November afternoon. * * * * *