Meantime the driver drew up to a small cottage by the road-side,
and scrambled down from his seat that he might assist the stout
woman with her accumulation of bundles. She handed him out the
baby, preferring to look after the more precious parcels herself.
Van Berg politely held the door open for her; but just as she was
squeezing through the stage entrance with her arms full and had her
foot on the last step, her cottage door flew open with something
to the effect of an explosion, and out burst three or four children
with a perfect din of cries and shouts. Two vociferous dogs joined
in the sudden uproar; the hitherto drowsy horses started as if a
bomb-shell had dropped under their noses, and speedily broke into
a mad gallop, leaving the stout woman prostrate upon her bundles
in the road, and the driver helplessly holding her baby.
Miss Mayhew's cold rigidity vanished at once. Indeed dignity was
impossible in the swaying, bounding vehicle. There was a momentary
effort to ignore her companion, and then terror overcame all
scruples. Turning her white face towards him, she exclaimed:
"Are we not in great danger?"
"I admit I would rather be in my chair on Mr.
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