"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.