“Not muchly badly,” she said at last in a low voice.

“But how did it happen?”

“Not nothing.  Pardon grant,” murmured Onoye.

“Of course, you poor dear, but how did you injure yourself?”

She laid the bandaged wrist gently on the palm of her hand and looked at it.

“Poor small accident,” said Onoye.

“But why was it?”

The two girls looked at each other silently.

“Was it in the library that night?” asked Billie after a long pause.

Onoye’s head drooped more and more.

“Poor little thing.  Poor child,” exclaimed Billie, consumed with pity and remorse, since it had been her own carelessness that had caused the poor small accident.

Onoye had doubtless put out the lights and when she, Billie, had crept into the room like a thief, the Japanese girl was frightened and hid herself behind a chair.  Then when they had collided, they had both lost their heads and the pistol had gone off.  In spite of her remorse, Billie was immensely relieved.

“Papa will be, too,” she thought.  “It had much better be Onoye than a robber.”

And Mr. Campbell was decidedly relieved when he heard the story from his daughter that night.

“I’ll keep it a secret, Onoye, dear,” said Billie, moved by compassion.  “I’ll only tell Papa.  I am so sorry I shot you.  It must have hurt terribly.”

Onoye tried to smile.

“Forgiveness grant,” she murmured again.

“I think I’d better say ‘forgiveness grant,’” said Billie.  “But I must be going now.”  She patted Onoye on the cheek and then tiptoed out of the room.  “It is a relief,” she thought, turning her footsteps toward the garage.

Some minutes later, Billie ran into her cousin’s room breathlessly.

“Ready in one moment,” called Miss Campbell, who had heard the whir of the motor at the door.

“I want to prepare you for a surprise,” said Billie solemnly.  “I don’t mind telling you that I have had the shock of my life.”

“But what is it?” they all demanded in one voice.

“I’ll only say this much.  Papa has punished the ‘Comet’ for running over the child that day.”

“How?”

“You’ll see.  I thought I had better prepare you.  The shock might have killed you if I hadn’t.”

“Goodness gracious me, what is it?” cried Miss Campbell, seizing her reticule and gloves and rushing into the hall, followed by the others.

When she reached the piazza, she sat down flat in a chair and gasped.

There was the “Comet,” to be sure.  His outlines were as familiar as the profile of a beloved brother, but his beautiful scarlet coat had been taken from him and he wore instead a quiet covering of dark blue.  The luxurious red cushions were covered with buff linen.  One small decoration had been conceded by Mr. Campbell.  The dark, quietly colored coat was relieved on each side by the buff-colored initials, “M-M” lovingly intertwined.