Instantly Mr. Munroe sprang towards him, exclaiming, "You're hurt, I'm sure you are; tell me what's the matter."
"My arm is broken, that is all," said Benny, with a poor attempt at a smile; then everything began to spin around him in a very bewildering manner, and he could never exactly recollect what happened after. He always carried with him, however, a lively recollection of the process of bone-setting, which he afterwards underwent, and of the sleepless night that followed.
Next morning Mr. Munroe came to Scout Farm and sat with Benny for half an hour, chatting about things in general, and before he left he thanked him again in the warmest terms for his bravery, and made him promise to visit Brooklands as soon as he was able, stating that Mrs. Munroe was very anxious to see him, as were also his daughters and niece, especially the latter, who wanted to thank him personally for saving her life.
Benny blushed at first and begged to be excused, but Mr. Munroe would not hear of it. So Benny reluctantly consented at last to endure the martyrdom (to him) of being introduced to the fine ladies at the big house, and in his heart wished he was well out of it all. He felt sore that he should look silly and make a hole in his manners, for he had never been used to grand people; and what would be the proper thing to say when they thanked him he had not the remotest idea.
"Well, Ben Bates," he said to himself when Mr. Munroe had left the room, "you're in for it now, and no mistake. Here's a pretty kettle of fish for you, my lad, and you've
