“Which way?  Along the road,” said Austin, much astonished.  “Why?”

“Thank God!” ejaculated Aunt Charlotte.  “Then you’re really safe.  I’ve been out of my mind with fear.  A most dreadful thing has happened.  Let us sit down a minute till I get my breath, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Austin led her to a garden seat which stood near, and sat down beside her.  “Well, what is it all about?” he asked.

“My dear, it was like this,” began Aunt Charlotte, as she gradually recovered her composure.  “Our friends were just going away—­oh, I forgot to tell you that of course they came; we had a most delightful time, and dear Lottie—­no, Lizzie—­I always do forget which is which—­I can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter—­was the life and soul of the party; however, as I was saying, they were just going away, and I was there at the gate seeing them off, when the butcher’s boy came running up and warned them on no account to venture into the road, as Hunt’s dog—­that’s the butcher, you know—­I mean Hunt is—­had gone raving mad, and was loose upon the streets.  Of course we were all most horribly alarmed, and wanted to know whether anybody had been bitten; but the boy was off like a shot, and two minutes afterwards the wretched dog itself came tearing past, as mad as a dog could be, its jaws a mass of foam, and snapping right and left.  As soon as ever it was safe our friends took the opportunity of escaping—­of course in the opposite direction; and then a crowd of villagers came along in pursuit, but not knowing which turning to take till some man or other told them that the dog had gone up the lane.  Then imagine my terror!  For I felt perfectly convinced that you’d be coming home that way, as the road was hot and dusty, and I know how fond you are of lanes and fields.  Oh, my dear, I can’t get over it even now.  How was it you chose the road?”

For a moment Austin did not speak.  Then he said very slowly: 

“I don’t know how to tell you.  Of course I could tell you easily enough, but I don’t think you’d understand.  Auntie, I intended to come home by the lane.  Twice or three times I tried to cross the stile into the meadows, and each time I was prevented.  Something stopped me.  Something pushed me back.  Naturally I wanted to come by the meadow—­the road was horrid—­and I wanted to stroll along on the grass and enjoy myself by the river.  But there it was—­I couldn’t do it.  So I gave up trying, and came by the road after all.”

“What do you mean, Austin?” asked Aunt Charlotte.  “I never heard such a thing in my life.  What was it that pushed you back?”

“I don’t know,” replied the boy deliberately.  “I only know that something did.  And as the lane is very narrow, and enclosed by excessively steep banks, the chances are that I should have met the dog in it, and that the dog would have bitten me and given me hydrophobia.  And now you know as much as I do myself.”