Mary Gray | Page 3

away what they
could not eat; and benevolent men-servants would ascend to the
overweighted boughs of the tree by ladders and pick the fruit and load
up the children's basins with it. Again, the apples would be distributed
in their season. While the distribution went on, the old lady would
stand at a window with her little white dog in her arms nodding her
head in a well-pleased way. The children called her Lady Anne. They
had no such personal acquaintance with the other gardens and their
owners, so their thoughts were very full of Lady Anne and her garden.
When Mary was about fourteen she made the acquaintance of Lady
Anne--her full name was Lady Anne Hamilton--and that was an event
which had a considerable influence on her fortunes. The meeting came
about in this way.
Mary had gone marketing one day, and for once had deserted the
shabby little row of shops which ran at the end of Wistaria Terrace, at
right angles to it. She had gone out into the great main thoroughfare,
the noise of which came dimly to Wistaria Terrace because of the huge
mass of the church blocking up the way.
She had done her shopping and was on her way home, when, right in
the track of the heavy tram as it came down the steep descent from the
bridge over the canal, she saw a helpless bit of white fur, as it might
well seem to anyone at a distance. The thing was almost motionless, or
stirring so feebly that its movements were not apparent. Evidently the
driver of the tram had not noticed it, or was not troubled to save its life,
for he stood with the reins in his hand, glancing from side to side of the
road for possible passengers as the tram swept down the long incline.

Mary never hesitated. The tram was almost upon the thing when she
first saw it. "Why, it is Lady Anne's dog!" she cried, and launched
herself out in the roadway to save it. She was just in time to pick up the
blind, whimpering thing. The driver of the tram, seeing Mary in its path,
put on the brakes sharply. The tram lumbered to a stoppage, but not
before Mary had been flung down on her face and her arm broken by
the hoof of the horse nearest her.
It was likely to be an uncommonly awkward thing for the Gray
household, seeing that it was Mary's right arm that was injured. For one
thing, it would involve the dispossession of that year's baby. For
another, it would put Mrs. Gray's capable helper entirely out of action.
When Mary was picked up, and stood, wavering unsteadily, supported
by someone in the crowd which had gathered, hearing, as from a great
distance, the snarling and scolding of the tram-driver, who was afraid
of finding himself in trouble, she still held the blind and whimpering
dog in her uninjured arm.
She wanted to get away as quickly as possible from the crowd, but her
head swam and her feet were uncertain. Then she heard a quiet voice
behind her.
"Has there been an accident? I am a doctor," it said.
"A young woman trying to kill herself along of an old dog," said the
tram-driver indignantly. "As though there wasn't enough trouble for a
man already."
"Let me see," the doctor said, coming to Mary's side. "Ah, I can't make
an examination here. Better come with me, my child. I am on my way
to the hospital. My carriage is here."
"Not to hospital," said Mary faintly. "Let me go home; they would be
so frightened."
"I shan't detain you, I promise you. But this must be bandaged before
you can go home. Ah, is this basket yours, too?"

Someone had handed up the basket from the tram-track, where it had
lain disgorging cabbages and other articles of food.
"I will send you home as soon as I have seen to your arm," the doctor
said, pushing her gently towards his carriage. "And the little dog--is he
your own? I suppose he is, since you nearly gave your life for him?"
"He is not mine," said Mary faintly. "He belongs to Lady Anne--Lady
Anne Hamilton. She lives at No. 8, The Mall. She will be distracted if
she misses the little dog. She is so very fond of it."
"Ah! Lady Anne Hamilton. I have heard of her. We can leave the dog
at home on our way. Come, child."
The Mall was quite close at hand. They drove there, and just as the
carriage stopped at the gate of No. 8, which had a long strip of green
front garden, overhung by trees through which you could discern the
old red-brick house. Lady Anne