the street, to stop at the parsonage gate; nor even when Dick was brought in, white and still, could she think of him as her boy.  It was some other little figure, and she must go and help them care for him.  Her boy would come bounding in presently, happy and ruddy, with a kiss for mamma, and a world of happy nonsense, just as usual.  It was only when Mrs. Henderson came in, and took her hand to lead her into the next room, that it all came to her.

“Oh, Dick!” and she sprang to the side of the sofa where he lay.  “My child—­my child!”

And then came Dr. Fisher, and the truth was known.  One of Dick’s legs was broken below the knee; the other badly bruised.  Only Jasper and the mother remained in the room while the little doctor set the limb; and after what seemed an age to the watchers, the boy came out.

“He bore it like a Trojan,” declared Jasper, wiping his forehead.  “I tell you, Dick’s our hero, after this.”

“Now I should like to know how all this happened,” demanded Mr. King.  The old gentleman had remained at the parsonage to get a good morning nap while the snow frolic was in progress.  And he had been awakened by the unusual bustle below stairs in time to hear the welcome news that Dicky was all right since Dr. Fisher was taking care of him.  He now presented himself in his dressing-gown, with his sleeping cap awry, over a face in which anger, distress and impatience strove for the mastery.  “Speak up, my boy,” to Jasper, “and tell us what you know about it.”

“Well, the first thing I knew of any danger ahead,” said Jasper, “was hearing Dick sing out ‘Hold up!’ I supposed the double ripper all right; didn’t you, Ben?”

“Yes,” said Ben sturdily, “and it was all right; just exactly as we used to make them, we boys; there wasn’t a weak spot anywhere in her, sir.”

“Who was steering?” demanded old Mr. King almost fiercely.

“I was,” said Van, beginning boldly enough, to let his voice die out in a tremulous effort.

“Humph—­humph,” responded Mr. King grimly.  “A bad business,” shaking his head.

“Van would”—­began Percy, but his eye meeting Polly’s he added, “We’d none of us done any better, I don’t believe, sir, than Van.”

Van was now choking so badly that the greatest kindness seemed to be not to look at him.  Accordingly the little company turned their eyes away, and regarded each other instead.

“Well, so Dick rolled off?” proceeded the old gentleman.

“Oh! no, he didn’t,” said all three boys together; “he stuck fast to the double ripper; we ran into a tree, and Dick was pitched off head-first.”

“But honestly and truly, father,” said Jasper, “I do not think that it was the fault of the steerer.”

“Indeed it was not,” declared Ben stoutly; “there was an ugly little gully that we hadn’t seen under the snow.  We’d been down four or five times all right, but only missed it by a hair-breadth; this time the ripper struck into it; I suppose Dick felt it bump, as it was on his side, and sang out, and as quick as lightning we were against that tree.  It was as much my fault as any one’s, and more, because I ought to have known that old hill thoroughly.”