ERIC That afternoon I had rather an adventure.

I was just walking up the hill on my way to the post-office, when a handsome carriage came round the corner by the church rather sharply, and the same moment a little dog crossing the road in the dusk seemed to be under the horses' feet.
That was my first impression.

My next was that the coachman was trying to pull up his horses.

There was a sudden howl, the horses kicked and plunged, some one in the carriage shrieked, and then the little dog was in my arms, and even in the dim light I could feel one poor little leg was broken.
The horses were quieted with difficulty, and the footman got down and went to the carriage window.
'It is poor little Flossie, ma'am,' he said, touching his hat: 'she must have got out into the road and recognised the carriage, for she was under the horses' feet.

This lady got her out somehow.' And indeed I had no idea how I had managed it.