The town of Farrandale was en gala. It was the annual day of rejoicing in its own success and prosperity. Everybody was happy except Miss Frink’s horses. The new coachman had drawn the check reins too tight. They didn’t like the streamers of bunting; they had objected to the band; and just as Miss Frink, always the queen of the occasion, rose in her carriage to say a few words to her fellow townsmen, a corner of a temporary platform near them gave way, and the celebrated bays, Rex and Regina, did what for some minutes they had been nervously contemplating: they bolted. The coachman’s efforts irritated them still more. Miss Frink was thrown violently against the side of her chariot, and in the mad, crashing gallop that ensued she saw her end in the sharp curve of the railroad they were heading for, and the advance of an oncoming express train. Some one else saw it, too, and, springing from the side of the road, caught the bridle and was dragged until one of the horses fell down entangled in the reins the coachman had dropped when he[27] jumped. The shouting crowd leaping after the runaway found a very much-shaken queen of the fête, and an unconscious man lying in the road with a gash in his head, his hair matted with blood. The express train crashed by. It was a flyer that ignored even the thriving little city of Farrandale. Never was Miss Frink’s indomitable spirit more regnant than in the present catastrophe. Somebody picked up the dazed coachman, who proved to be intact and able to help disentangle the fallen Rex and get him to his feet; while others lifted the unconscious hero. Motors came flying to the scene. In one was Miss Frink’s secretary, Leonard Grimshaw, and a pretty young woman with pure white hair. The latter fell upon Miss Frink with horrified exclamations; while the secretary also rushed to the victoria and stood beside it. [27] “Oh, had you only allowed me to drive with you, dear lady!” he mourned. “Yes, probably the horses wouldn’t have run away,” returned Miss Frink irritably. She readjusted her fallen eyeglasses. “Adèle, kindly leave my bonnet alone.” “But it is on the side, dear Aunt Susanna.” Miss Frink looked past them to the unconscious burden being lifted from the ground. [28] [28]
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