There was a crowd round the group already, and there were shrieking women and curious men streaming towards the spot, where Sir Robert, with an air of authority, was giving directions to such of the more intelligent among the crowd as seemed likely to be of use in the emergency. Thus, he sent one man for a doctor and another for his own servants, while he himself knelt down by the roadside, and raised the unconscious victim of the accident. She had struck her head against the kerb-stone, and one side of it was cut and bleeding. “Poor child! She isn’t dead. She’ll be all right presently,” said Sir Robert, answering the alarmed comments of the women who pressed round him. “I’m going to have her taken into my house, where the doctor will see her.” The accident had occurred within twenty yards of the entrance to Sir Robert’s house, and five minutes later the baronet and his butler were carrying the unconscious girl under the little portico and up the staircase into a pleasant room at the back of the house, overlooking the grounds and the flowing stream. A couple of children, a boy and a girl, the orphaned nephew and niece of Sir Robert and permanent members of his household, watched the arrival from the upper staircase with eager interest. “Look at the blood, Minnie!” observed the boy, in an awestruck whisper. “And look at her eyes--all shut!” he added with thrilling interest. The girl, younger and more tender-hearted, began to cry. “She’s dead!” sobbed she. “Oh, George, don’t yook at her. She’s been killded.” “No, she hasn’t,” said he sturdily. “Uncle Robert won’t let her die.” Their hissing whispers had by this time attracted attention, and Bessie, the old family nurse in whose charge they were, beckoned to them from below with an austere frown. “If you don’t both go back into the nursery this minute----” There was no need to say more: in an instant the scampering of small feet, followed by the banging of an upper door, showed that the young people, who were known in the household as The Terrors, were for the moment quelled. In the meantime the victim of the accident had been laid upon a bed in a darkened room, and Bessie and her master were looking at her with sympathetic interest. “Why, the poor dear’s but a lass, sir,” said the sympathetic Bessie, as she loosened the girl’s clothes and peered keenly into the pale face. “Yes, not more than eighteen or nineteen, I should think,” said Sir Robert. “She had a narrow escape. Search her clothes, Bessie, for some indication as to her name and address. Her people will be alarmed about her, whoever she is, and whoever they may be.” “Yes, sir. I’ll have a hunt as soon as the doctor’s here.”