At the farther end of the stable-yard, through a narrow gate, the
youth caught a glimpse of the green sward and the springing flowers of
a small garden. Wearied with the sameness of No. 4 rather than with
his journey, he sauntered towards the said gate, and, seating himself
in a small arbour within the garden, surrendered himself to
reflection.

The result of this self-conference was a determination to leave the
Golden Fleece by the earliest conveyance which went to that great
object and emporium of all his plans and thoughts, London. As, full
of this resolution and buried in the dream which it conjured up, he
was returning with downcast eyes and unheeding steps through the
stable-yard, to the delights of No. 4, he was suddenly accosted by a
loud and alarmed voice,--

"For God's sake, sir, look out, or--"

The sentence was broken off, the intended warning came too late, our
hero staggered back a few steps, and fell, stunned and motionless,
against the stable door. Unconsciously he had passed just behind the
heels of the stranger's horse, which being by no means in good humour
with the clumsy manoeuvres of his shampooer, the hostler, had taken
advantage of the opportunity presented to him of working off his
irritability, and had consequently inflicted a severe kick upon the
right shoulder of Mr. C. L.

The stranger, honoured by the landlady with the name and title of
Squire Mordaunt, was in the yard at the moment. He hastened towards
the sufferer, who as yet was scarcely sensible, and led him into the
house. The surgeon of the village was sent for and appeared. This