"You oughtn't to have done it, Mister Loring," he croaked. "You ought never to have done it. What would I have said to your father, sir, if—if—"
"Quite right," agreed Loring soothingly. "I shouldn't have done it, Wattles. How are you feeling now?"
"Better, sir, thanks. But, Mister Loring, when I looked up the street, and saw that automobile right atop of you, like, I—I had a frightful shock, sir! I really did! I just went right off!"
"Too bad, Wattles. I'm beastly sorry. Look here, you'd better not try to walk back. Bingham here will look after me. I'll see if we can't get a lift for you."
But Wattles arose superbly, even majestically—if also somewhat unsteadily—and placed his hat determinedly on his head. "Oh, no, sir, I'm quite all right now! It was merely—merely momentary, sir. The air will quite restore me, Mister Loring."
Loring looked doubtful and turned to Clif for an opinion, but Clif had been engaged in conversation by Mr. Burger, the proprietor, eager to learn about the accident, and whether any one had been injured. So Loring consented to Wattles' return afoot and, after thanking the proprietor, the three departed. Wattles' return to normal was instant when he had reached the sidewalk, and may have been due to any one of three things or a combination of all; the interesting spectacle across the street, the revivifying influence of fresh air or the shocking discovery that the handle-
