Jove! how queer my head feels! Give us a boost, please.
Stop howling, Maud, and come home.

You bring the machine, and I 'll pay you, Pat." As he spoke, Tom slowly picked himself and steadying himself by Polly's shoulder, issued commands, and the procession fell into line.

First, the big dog, barking at intervals; then the good-natured Irishman, trundling "that divil of a whirligig," as he disrespectfully called the idolized velocipede; then the wounded hero, supported by the helpful Polly; and Maud brought up the rear in tears, bearing Tom's cap.
Unfortunately, Mrs.Shaw was out driving with grandma, and Fanny was making calls; so that there was no one but Polly to stand by Tom, for the parlor-maid turned faint at the sight of blood, and the chamber-maid lost her wits in the flurry.

It was a bad cut, and must be sewed up at once, the doctor said, as soon as he came.

"Somebody must hold his head;" he added, as he threaded his queer little needle.
"I 'll keep still, but if anybody must hold me, let Polly.