But the word "lame" had roused all Mollie's sympathy. "How lame are you?" she asked. "Is it a wound? I am lame too--only a sprained ankle, but I should hate to walk from here to Chauncery." "Of course you couldn't," the motorist said kindly. "I am not so bad as that. My wound healed long ago, but it has left rather a crocky foot behind. I could manage well enough, however, if someone from the smithy would come and push the bike." "Tell you what," Dick suggested; "if you hop in and look after Mollie, Jerry and I will push the bike to the smithy; we'll be after you in two jiffs." The stranger looked at Dick with a smile and a slight lift of his eyebrows. "You are very trusting, young man. Supposing I run away with the pony and the cart and the sister? What will you do then?" "Stick to the bike," Dick answered promptly, "I have been wanting one most frightfully badly, and Father says I might as well ask him to give me the Isle of Wight. Besides--you _said_ you knew Grannie and Aunt Mary." "Well, I happen to be quite a safe person, so you're all right this time, but it wouldn't _always_ do, you know," and the stranger gave his head a warning shake. "You are exceedingly kind. I only fear it would be rather a heavy job for you." But this the boys denied strenuously. "If we stick, one of us will go and collect young Simpson and the other will watch the bike; but we'll be as right as rain--and we'd better hurry up." Dick left the trap as he spoke by the simple means of dropping over the side, and Jerry followed his example. "I had better give you my name for Mr.--Simpson, did you say?--Major Campbell--Hugh Campbell." There was a dead silence. If the stranger had said "George the Fifth of England" he could not have produced more effect. All three stared at him with their mouths open. "What's the matter with that?" he asked. "It's a very respectable name, and it really does belong to me. Perhaps I should give you my card." He put his hand in his breastpocket. "Oh no," Mollie said rather breathlessly. "No--please don't mind--it's quite all right, only--you look so young." "So _what_?" exclaimed Major Campbell, standing stock still with his hand in his pocket. "I mean," Mollie explained nervously, "I mean--" looking at the boys for help, but in vain, "I--you--so young to be a friend of Grannie's" she ended feebly. "You're a goose, Moll," Dick broke in. "We once knew a Hugh Campbell, but it was years and _years_ ago, and he was ever so much younger than you--he was my age--and there must be thousands of Hugh Campbells." "Years and years ago! Your age! And she says I look too young!" repeated Major Campbell in pardonable bewilderment. "How old do I look--five perhaps?"