Instantly the room was in an uproar.  Ned was hurt—­he did not attempt to move, but lay there almost unconscious.

“Oh, my boy!” cried Mrs. White, bending over him.

“Ned!  Ned!” implored the frightened Dorothy, with her white face very close to his.  “It was all my fault!”

“No,” spoke up Tom, “I should not have distracted him while he was up so high.  Come, boy,” to Ned, “let me lift you.”

The strong arms of Tom Scott encircled the helpless one, and very tenderly Ned was lifted, then carried to a lounge in the library.

“Oh, I’m all right,” he managed to say, when Tom had placed him on the couch.  “I just hurt my—­knee, I guess.”

The expression of pain that crossed his face showed plainly some member was injured, and Mrs. Brownlie, in spite of his protests, insisted on calling a doctor.

[Illustration:  “He crashed to the floor, right at her feet.”—­Page 158.]

Dorothy wanted to cry.  She felt it was somehow her fault.  If only Tom had not interfered!  But of course he meant no harm.  Yet she knew how Ned felt.

“Oh, dear,” she sighed aloud, “I did feel that something would happen!”

“I’m sorry,” said Ned feebly.  “I was a—­goose to snap it so, Doro.”

Tom had gone out to the telephone in the hall.  Mrs. White and Mrs. Brownlie advised the others to leave off the decorating until the next day, as it would be best to get the house quiet.

“Every shock has a nervous reaction,” explained Mrs. Brownlie in dismissing her guests thus suddenly, “and it will be best to keep him quiet until the doctor comes.”

Tavia wanted to stay, but not even Dorothy was accorded that privilege.  Tom remained with Mrs. White, and Nat went for the Fire Bird, in which to take his brother and mother home, there being no room for the others in it now.

“How ever did it happen?” Tavia asked of Dorothy as they walked the short distance home in Roland’s company.

“I had hold of his rope,” replied Dorothy, still showing her distress, “and he attempted to take it—­”

“He acted so queerly all evening,” commented Tavia.  “I never saw him so cross.”

“I did not notice it,” said Roland, touching the bell at the door of The Cedars.  “I thought him in the best of spirits.”

“Of course, it was simply an accident,” added Dorothy.  “How he felt could have had nothing to do with it.”

“Well, everything seems queer,” declared Tavia.  “I just wonder how it will all turn out.”

“That must depend entirely upon ourselves,” insisted the practical Dorothy.  “But we will have trouble in getting some one to take Ned’s place—­ Oh, dear, if I had only—­but there’s no use lamenting.”  And when Roland said good-night at the door Dorothy went directly to her own room—­she was too much depressed to join the family’s expression of anxieties.