She clutched at her pillar, almost losing consciousness for one brief moment, in her dreadful fright.

Violet’s agonized cry, as she came rushing from the open doorway, “My baby! oh, my baby! she’s killed!” roused her:  and she saw Dinah pick up the little creature from the ground, and place it in its mother’s arms, where it lay limp and white, like a dead thing, without sense or motion; the whole household, young and old, black and white, gathering round in wild excitement and grief.

No one so much as glanced at her, or seemed to think of her at all:  their attention was wholly occupied with the injured little one.

She shuddered as she caught a glimpse of its deathlike face, then put her hand over her eyes to shut out the fearful sight.  She felt as if she were turning to stone with a sense of the awful thing she had done in her mad passion; then suddenly seized with an overwhelming desire to hide herself from all these eyes, that would presently be gazing accusingly and threateningly at her, she hurried away to her own room, and shut and locked herself in.

Her riding-whip was still in her hand.  She tossed it on to the window-sill, tore off her gloves, hat, and habit, and threw them aside, then, dropping on her knees beside the bed, buried her face in the clothes, sobbing wildly, “Oh, I’ve killed my little sister! my own dear little baby sister!  What shall I do? what shall I do?”

Moments passed that seemed like hours:  faint sounds came up from below.  She heard steps and voices, and, “Was that mamma Vi crying,—­crying as if her heart would break? saying over and over again, ’My baby’s dead! my baby’s dead! killed by her sister, her cruel, passionate sister!’ Would they come and take her (Lulu) to jail?  Would they try her for murder, and hang her?  Oh! then papa’s heart would break, losing two of his children in such dreadful ways.

“Oh! wouldn’t it break anyhow when he heard what she had done,—­when he knew the baby was dead, and that she had killed it, even if she should not be sent to prison, and tried for murder?”

At length some one tried the door; and a little, sobbing voice said, “Lulu, please let me in.”

She rose, staggered to the door, and unlocked it.  “Is it only you, Gracie?” she asked in a terrified whisper, opening it just far enough to admit the little slender figure.

“Yes:  there’s nobody else here,” said the child.  “I came to tell you the baby isn’t dead; but the doctor has come, and, I believe, he doesn’t feel sure she won’t die.  O Lu! how could you?” she asked with a burst of sobs.

“O Gracie!  I didn’t do it on purpose! how could you think so?  I mean, I didn’t know it was the baby:  I thought it was that hateful dog.”

“Oh, I’m glad!  I couldn’t b’lieve it, though some of them do!” exclaimed Gracie in a tone of relief.

Then, with a fresh burst of tears and sobs, “But she’s dreadfully hurt, the dear little thing!  I heard the doctor tell grandpa Dinsmore he was afraid she’d never get over it; but he mustn’t let mamma know yet, ’cause maybe she might.”