THE BLACK SPANIELS

Gregory, who was looking out of the door and meditating an escape from so
much dampness, and a conversation on the whole matter with Kink, exclaimed
suddenly, "Hello, I guess this is your mother."

"Yes, it is," cried Patricia, standing up and waving her handkerchief to a
lady seated in a milk-cart, which was being driven after them at a
tremendous pace. "I wondered who she'd get to bring her here, and it's
young Daniel Wilson. Tell your man to stop, please."

Mrs. Mordan, whom Gregory thought both a nice and a pretty lady, leapt out
of the milk-cart and ran up the steps of the Slowcoach, and mother and
daughter hugged each other for quite two minutes, while Gregory looked at
young Daniel Wilson, and Patricia began to cry afresh-- this time because
she was happy.

Mrs. Mordan was happy too. The grief she had felt for the accident and the
injury to poor Snelgrove, whom she had left in agony by the road, passed
away when she found her little daughter unhurt.

She sat holding Patricia's hand, and asked Hester a number of questions,
and gave her a number of thanks all together.

Gregory meanwhile had got out, and was asking young Daniel Wilson how
ponies are shot; and what he did about getting milk to the station when the
snow was two feet thick; and if the cows often kicked the buckets over.

"It's not us," said Hester, "it's Kink who was so useful."