bending over her with an anxious face. "The poet, Edwin Langham, was
here, and he wanted especially to see you, and was dreadfully
disappointed when we couldn't find you. He left a book here for you."

"Oh," groaned Agony, and those hearing her thought that she must be in
great physical pain.

"How did you happen to fall into that ravine?" asked Jo.

Agony was becoming light headed from the blow on her temple, and she
answered in disjointed phrases.

"Didn't fall in--went down--purpose. Micky--fell in--hurt shoulder--I
bandaged it--fell trying--to--get--out."

Her voice trailed off weakly toward the end.

"There, don't talk," said Dr. Grayson. "We understand all about it. The
dog fell in and hurt himself and you went down after him and then fell
in yourself. Being kind to dumb animals again. Noble little girl. We're
proud of you."

Agony heard it all as in a dream, but could summon no voice to speak.
She was _so_ tired. After all, why not let them think that? It was the
best way out. Otherwise they might wonder how she happened to be in the
ravine--it would be hard for them to believe that she had fallen into it
herself in broad daylight, and it might be embarrassing to answer
questions. Let them believe that she had gone down after the dog. That
settled the matter once for all.