“Yes, papa, a good deal,” she answered faintly; “and I feel so weak.  Please take me in your arms, papa, I want to lay my head against you.”

He raised her up gently, sat down on the end of the couch where her head had been, lifted her to his knee, and made Chloe place a pillow for the wounded limb to rest upon.

“There, darling, is that better?” he asked, soothingly, as she laid her head wearily down on his breast, and he folded his arms about her.

“Yes, papa; but, oh, it aches very much,” she sighed.

“My poor little daughter! my poor little pet!” he said, in a deeply compassionate tone, “it is so hard to see you suffer; I would gladly take your pain and bear it for you if I could.”

“Oh, no, dear papa, I would much rather bear it myself,” she answered quickly.

The tea-bell rang, and Elsie half started up.

“Lie still, dearest,” her father said.  “I am in no hurry for my tea, so you shall have yours first, and I will hold you while you eat it.  What will you have?  You may ask for anything you want.”

“I don’t know, papa; whatever you please.”

“Well, then, Aunt Chloe, go down and bring up whatever good things are there, and she can take her choice.  Bring a cup of hot tea, too, I think it may do her good to-night.”

“Thank you, dear papa, you are so kind,” Elsie said, gratefully.

When the carriage had driven off with Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie, the rest of the young party at once turned their steps toward the house; Arthur skulking in the rear, and the others eagerly discussing the accident as they went.

“Arthur pushed her down, I am sure he did,” said Lucy, positively.  “I believe he hates her like poison, and he has been at her about something the several days past—­I know it just by the way I’ve seen him look at her—­yes, ever since the morning after the Carleton party.  And now I remember I heard his voice talking angrily in her room that very morning.  I went to get a book I had left in there, and when I tried the door it was locked, and I went away again directly.”

“But what has that to do with Elsie’s fall?” asked Mary Leslie.

“Why, don’t you see that it shows there was some trouble between them, and that Arthur had a motive for pushing her down,” returned Lucy, somewhat impatiently.  “Really, Mary, you seem quite stupid sometimes.”

Mary looked hurt.

“I don’t know how any one could be so wicked and cruel; especially to such a dear, sweet little girl as Elsie,” remarked Carry Howard.

“No, nor I,” said Harry; “but the more I think about it the more certain I feel that Arthur did really push her down; for now I remember distinctly where she stood, and it seems to me she could not possibly have fallen of herself.  Besides it was evident enough that Arthur felt guilty from the way he acted when Mr. Dinsmore came, and when he spoke to him.  But perhaps he did not do it quite on purpose.”