“‘Wasn’t she a pretty little darling?’ continued Harry; ‘I fell in love with her as we rolled down the embankment together; and when I get to be a man, if she is willing, we’ll go down the path of life together.’ “‘His mind is wandering,’ whispered the conductor. “Harry overheard him. “‘Perhaps it is,’ said he, ‘but let it wander as much as it likes, so long as it happens to stray in that direction. Hush crying, Lottie dear, I tell you I am not much hurt; I shall be well again in three weeks.’ “The old surgeon arrived, threw off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work like a man who knew what he was about; and I was struck with admiration for the man when I saw the skill with which he reset the broken bones and placed the splints. “‘There now, we’re all right, my brave little hero,’ he said, smiling as he finished pinning the bandage. ‘Keep it moist with cold water to prevent inflammation, and in three weeks this leg will be as good as the other one. By the by, what’s your name, little man?’ “‘Harry Wallingford, sir.’ “‘Ah, ha! a very nice name, too, it is. And the pretty little girl whose life you saved is the sweetest little angel that ever touched the earth!’ “‘Who is she?’ Harry inquired. “‘Viola Bramlett is her name. She is the daughter of Mr. Bolivar Bramlett, of New York City, who is traveling in the South for the benefit of his wife’s health. They have been stopping at this hotel some three or four weeks, and being called in to see Mrs. Bramlett professionally, I have had a chance to become well acquainted with the family; therefore, you see, I speak advisedly when I say that little Viola is an angel.’ “‘I hope,’ said Harry, ‘that she is not badly hurt.’ “‘Oh, no; she is not hurt much at all--a slight contusion on the temple, and a few scratches from the briars--that’s all. Her father will be in to see you directly; he is overwhelmed with gratitude to you; and little Viola (Heaven bless her!), won’t talk about anything except the pretty little brave boy who kept her from being killed. She insisted on coming to see you now, but I persuaded her to wait till your wounds were dressed. So you see that you may expect soon to be overflowed with thanks and kisses from the sweetest little darling that the world ever saw. Ah, you’re a lucky lad, anyway. Good morning; I’ll see you again this evening; don’t move the wounded leg; keep it perfectly still, and talk as much as you please to the little angel when she comes to see you.’