“Oh!” exclaimed Mary, “I do think I should be frightened to death if Mr. Dinsmore should look at me as he did at Arthur.”

“Looks can’t hurt,” observed Harry, wisely; “but I wouldn’t be in Arthur’s shoes just now for considerable; because I’ll venture to say Mr. Dinsmore will do something a good deal worse than look, before he is done with him.”

When they reached the house Lucy went directly to her mamma’s room.  Herbert, who was more ailing than usual that day, lay on a sofa, while his mamma sat by his side, reading to him.  They had not heard of the accident, and were quite startled by Lucy’s excited manner.

“Oh, mamma!” she cried, jerking off her bonnet, and throwing herself down on a stool at her mother’s feet, “we have had such a dreadful accident, or hardly an accident either, for I feel perfectly certain Arthur did it on purpose; and I just expect he’ll kill her some day, the mean, wicked boy!” and she burst into tears.  “If I were Mr. Dinsmore I’d have him put in jail, so I would,” she sobbed.

“Lucy, my child, what are you talking about?” asked her mother with a look of mingled surprise and alarm, while Herbert started up asking, “Is it Elsie?  Oh!  Lucy, is she much hurt?”

“Yes,” sobbed Lucy, “we all thought she was dead, it was so long before she spoke, or moved, or even opened her eyes.”

Herbert was crying, too, now, as bitterly as his sister.

“But, Lucy dear,” said her mother, wiping her eyes, “you haven’t told us anything yet.  Where did it happen?  What did Arthur do?  And where is poor little Elsie now?”

“Her papa brought her home, and Jim went for the doctor, and they’re doing something with her now in her own room—­for Pomp said Mr. Dinsmore carried her right up there!  Oh I mamma, if you had seen him look at Arthur!”

“But what did Arthur do?” asked Herbert anxiously.

“He pushed her down that steep hill that you remember you were afraid to try to climb the other day; at least we all think he did.”

“But surely, he did not do it intentionally,” said Mrs. Carrington, “for why should he wish to harm such a sweet, gentle little creature as Elsie?”

“Oh! mamma,” exclaimed Herbert, suddenly matching hold of her hand and he grew very pale, and almost gasped for breath.

“What is it, Herbert dear, what is it?” she asked in alarm; for he had fallen back on his pillow, and seemed almost ready to faint.

“Mamma,” he said with a shudder, “mamma, I believe I know.  Oh! why didn’t I speak before, and, perhaps, poor little Elsie might have been saved all this.”

“Why, Herbert, what can you know about it?” she asked in extreme surprise.