“You saw—­you saw,” replied the indignant Caddy, imitating his tone; and taking up the kettle, she began to examine it more closely.  “Why, this isn’t even our kettle; look at this lid.  I’m sure it’s not ours.  You’ve been stopping somewhere to play, and exchanged it with some other boy, that’s just what you’ve done.”

Just then it occurred to Charlie that at the place where he had adjusted the dispute about the marbles, he had observed in the hands of one of the boys a kettle similar to his own; and it flashed across his mind that he had then and there made the unfortunate exchange.  He broke his suspicion to Caddy in the gentlest manner, at the same time edging his way to the door to escape the storm that he saw was brewing.  The loss of her dinner—­and of such a dinner—­so enraged the hungry girl, as to cause her to seize a brush lying near and begin to belabour him without mercy.  In his endeavour to escape from her his foot was caught in the carpet, and he was violently precipitated down the long flight of stairs.  His screams brought the whole party to his assistance; even Kinch, who was sitting on the step outside, threw off his usual dread of Caddy, and rushed into the house.  “Oh, take me up,” piteously cried Charlie; “oh, take me up, I’m almost killed.”  In raising him, one of the old women took hold of his arm, which caused him to scream again.  “Don’t touch my arm, please don’t touch my arm; I’m sure it’s broke.”

“No, no, it’s not broke, only sprained, or a little twisted,” said she; and, seizing it as she spoke, she gave it a pull and a wrench, for the purpose of making it all right again; at this Charlie’s face turned deathly pale, and he fainted outright.

“Run for a doctor,” cried the now thoroughly-alarmed Caddy; “run for the doctor! my brother’s dead!” and bursting into tears, she exclaimed, “Oh, I’ve killed my brother, I’ve killed my brother!”

“Don’t make so much fuss, child,” soothingly replied one of the old women:  “he’s worth half a dozen dead folk yet.  Lor bless you, child, he’s only fainted.”

Water was procured and thrown in his face, and before Kinch returned with the doctor, he was quite restored to consciousness.

“Don’t cry, my little man,” said the physician, as he took out his knife and ripped up the sleeve of Charlie’s coat.  “Don’t cry; let me examine your arm.”  Stripping up the shirt-sleeve, he felt it carefully over, and shaking his head (physicians always shake their heads) pronounced the arm broken, and that, too, in an extremely bad place.  At this information Charlie began again to cry, and Caddy broke forth into such yells of despair as almost to drive them distracted.