"But we want to help you, and we can settle about blame by and
by," whispered Merry with a kiss; for she adored dashing Jill, and
never would own that she did wrong.

"Here come the wood-sleds just in time. I'll cut away and tell one
of them to hurry up." And, freeing himself from his sisters, Gus
went off at a great pace, proving that the long legs carried a
sensible head as well as a kind heart.

As the first sled approached, an air of relief pervaded the agitated
party, for it was driven by Mr. Grant, a big, benevolent-looking
farmer, who surveyed the scene with the sympathetic interest of a
man and a father.

"Had a little accident, have you? Well, that's a pretty likely place
for a spill. Tried it once myself and broke the bridge of my nose,"
he said, tapping that massive feature with a laugh which showed
that fifty years of farming had not taken all the boy out of him.
"Now then, let's see about this little chore, and lively, too, for it's
late, and these parties ought to be housed," he added, throwing
down his whip, pushing back his cap, and nodding at the wounded
with a reassuring smile.

"Jill first, please, sir," said Ed, the gentle squire of dames,
spreading his overcoat on the sled as eagerly as ever Raleigh laid
down his velvet cloak for a queen to walk upon.

"All right. Just lay easy, my dear, and I won't hurt you a mite if I
can help it."