She had strolled off limping to look about her a bit in the shrubbery.

'Where's Martha ?' Dora suddenly said.
'She went that way,' pointingly remarked H.O.
'Then fetch her back, you young duffer! What did you let her go for ?' Oswald said.

'And look sharp.

Don't make a row.' He went.

A minute later we heard a hoarse squeak from Martha--the one she always gives when suddenly collared from behind--and a little squeal in a lady-like voice, and a man say 'Hallo!' and then we knew that H.O.
had once more rushed in where angels might have thought twice about it.
We hurried to the fatal spot, but it was too late.