To William’s reddening ear Miss Pratt’s voice came clearly as the chiming of tiny bells, for she spoke whimsically to her little dog in that tinkling childlike fashion which was part of the spell she cast.

“Darlin’ Flopit,” she said, “wake up!  Oo tummin’ to tea-potty wiz all de drowed-ups.  P’eshus Flopit, wake up!”

Dizzy with enchantment, half suffocated, his heart melting within him, William turned from the angelic sounds and fairy vision of the window.  He ran out of the room, and plunged down the front stairs.  And the next moment the crash of breaking glass and the loud thump-bump of a heavily falling human body resounded through the house.

Mrs. Baxter, alarmed, quickly excused herself from the tea-table, round which were gathered four or five young people, and hastened to the front hall, followed by Jane.  Through the open door were seen Miss Pratt, Miss Parcher, Mr. Johnnie Watson and Mr. Joe Bullitt coming leisurely up the sunny front walk, laughing and unaware of the catastrophe which had just occurred within the shadows of the portal.  And at a little distance from the foot of the stairs William was seated upon the prostrate “Battle of Gettysburg.”

“It slid,” he said, hoarsely.  “I carried it upstairs with me”—­he believed this—­“and somebody brought it down and left it lying flat on the floor by the bottom step on purpose to trip me!  I stepped on it and it slid.”  He was in a state of shock:  it seemed important to impress upon his mother the fact that the picture had not remained firmly in place when he stepped upon it.  “It slid, I tell you!”

“Get up, Willie!” she urged, under her breath, and as he summoned enough presence of mind to obey, she beheld ruins other than the wrecked engraving.  She stifled a cry.  “Willie!  Did the glass cut you?”

He felt himself.  “No’m.”

“It did your trousers!  You’ll have to change them.  Hurry!”

Some of William’s normal faculties were restored to him by one hasty glance at the back of his left leg, which had a dismantled appearance.  A long blue strip of cloth hung there, with white showing underneath.

“Hurry!” said Mrs. Baxter.  And hastily gathering some fragments of glass, she dropped them upon the engraving, pushed it out of the way, and went forward to greet Miss Pratt and her attendants.

As for William, he did not even pause to close his mouth, but fled with it open.  Upward he sped, unseen, and came to a breathless halt upon the landing at the top of the stairs.

As it were in a dream he heard his mother’s hospitable greetings at the door, and then the little party lingered in the hall, detained by Miss Pratt’s discovery of Jane.

“Oh, tweetums tootums ickle dirl!” he heard the ravishing voice exclaim.  “Oh, tootums ickle blue sash!”

“It cost a dollar and eighty-nine cents,” said Jane.  “Willie sat on the cakes.”