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Falco saw Marigold lying on the couch with her pale face and wide, frightened eyes, and for a moment he was brought back to a time when another lassie had lain, pale and frightened, and begging him to go with all speed to tell Fosco that she had fallen and hurt herself, but she was all right, so he needn't believe the wild alarms that had been sounded to him earlier. It took all of Falco's will-power to keep from running to Marigold and assuring himself that she was indeed all right.
He flashed his eyes up to Snaveling. "I should have known better than to trust a Big Folk fellow like you," he said. "How did she fall? What did she fall from?"
"She fell from a horse," said Snaveling simply.
"Oh, so you put her on a horse, did you, now?" cried Falco, shaking his head wildly. "You should have known better than to put a little hobbit girl on a horse."
"Don't be too angry, Mr. Headstrong!" Marigold called from the couch. "It was my fault, I suppose. I wanted to ride on the horse, and I frightened him, and he ran away with me. Mr. Snaveling and Miss Mithalwen were being very careful, really they were."
Falco went to her and sat down beside her, gazing defiantly at the Big Folk fellow and the tall woman (perhaps she was pretty, but beauty was no excuse for carelessness, indeed not!). His look clearly showed that he believed Marigold's words were spoken out of kindness and forgiveness, and that there was not a particle of truth in them. After scowling first at one, and then the other, he turned to Marigold and studied her frightened face. "I think," he said, "it would be better if you were in your bed."
"Oh, but I like it here, Mr. Headstrong," she said. "It's much more interesting."
"Well," he said in a reluctant growl, "you may stay if you would rather stay. But..." He paused to consider. He wanted to show her the clothes he had bought for her, but he didn't dare leave to fetch them. As long as this Big Folk fellow was about, he would not leave Marigold. Maybe she would fall off the couch. No, he could not leave...
"Mr. Snaveling," he said, imperatively, "go to Marigold's room, and fetch what you find on the bed there, and bring it here. I want her to see what I bought her." He did not mention that he did not dare leave her with Snaveling again, but perhaps his look and tone implied it.
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