That afternoon we were longer than usual on the sea, only returning just in time for a late tea and bed.  Uncle Hugh started about seven o’clock, and Harry as usual mounted his pony in great haste to go with him part of the way.  I remember that uncle was in a hurry, and did not wait for him, for as I stood undressing near the window I saw Harry waving his hat and calling after him, with the two dogs at his side.

[Illustration:  THROUGH THICK AND THIN.]

The long summer evening faded away; from my pillow I saw the stars come out one by one, and then kissing my hand to them, I let my sleepy eyes go shut, and was soon in the midst of pleasant dreamland.  I don’t know how long after this it was, that I was aroused by a sound of whispers at the door, and then by a little timid question from Lottie, “Susette, isn’t Harry come home?” “But no, Miss Lottie,” was the answer in a troubled voice, and Jane broke in:  “Hush, hush! you’ll wake Miss Sissy!  Go to sleep, there’s a darling.  He’ll be home directly now—­no need to be frightened!”

“No need to be frightened!” said Susette, in her foreign accent.  “But, yes——­”

Jane had pulled her out of the room, and Lottie and I, now wide awake, were left to wonder, and talk in low, frightened tones.  Lottie had heard the whining of one of the dogs under the window—­both dogs had gone off with Harry—­and she had heard Susette call Jane gently, and then they had whispered outside the door something about Gus and the dog; and after that she had heard Gus run off under the window, the dog barking joyfully and going, too.  How we lay and trembled!  By and by I got out of bed, and peeped through the Venetians, in spite of Lottie’s entreaties.

“Oh, Sissy, please don’t!  Susette will be so angry!  Please, Sissy, come back!”

I protested that Susette was not my nurse, yet I knew she could scold in such a bewildering torrent of French as did sometimes frighten me; and as I could see nothing but the calm, beautiful starlit sky over the sleeping sea, I dropped the blind, and sprang back into bed.  It made a noise as I dropped it, and for some time the fear of being heard, and the anxiety to appear asleep if any one came, made us forget our alarm about Harry.  In fact, I think we were getting sleepy again—­I was, at least—­but we started up at the sound of the hall-door softly opened, and then men’s footsteps on the stairs.  There was a low moan as the steps passed our door.  Oh, how breathlessly we waited!  Once, even, I had the door ajar, and was peeping out, when a hurried hand outside suddenly shut it again, making me start back.  By and by there was a sound of footsteps going downstairs, and in a moment Lottie and I were both in the passage entreating Jane to tell us what had happened.

“Master Harry has been tumbled over the pony’s head, Miss Lottie,” she said, “and he’s been lying in a ditch nobody knows how long; but the dog’s saved his life—­him and Gus together—­and the doctor hopes he won’t be very bad, no bones being broken, only bruises and knocks of the head.  He don’t quite know himself, you see, yet, poor young gentleman! and we have to keep him quiet, so you must go and be as still as mice.  The doctor’ll be here in the morning, and the missis, too, may be!”