In time however you get to performing some modest experiments yourself upon the very lowest limbs, taking care to avoid the observation of the larger boys, who else might laugh at you; you especially avoid the notice of one stout fellow in pea-green breeches, who is a sort of “bully” among the small boys, and who delights in kicking your marbles about very accidentally.  He has a fashion too of twisting his handkerchief into what he calls a “snapper,” with a knot at the end, and cracking at you with it, very much to the irritation of your spirits and of your legs.

Sometimes, when he has brought you to an angry burst of tears, he will very graciously force upon you the handkerchief, and insist upon your cracking him in return; which, as you know nothing about his effective method of making the knot bite, is a very harmless proposal on his part.

But you have still stronger reason to remember that boy.  There are trees, as I said, near the school; and you get the reputation, after a time, of a good climber.  One day you are well in the tops of the trees, and being dared by the boys below, you venture higher—­higher than any boy has ever gone before.  You feel very proudly, but just then catch sight of the sneering face of your old enemy of the snapper; and he dares you to go upon a limb that he points out.

The rest say,—­for you hear them plainly,—­“It won’t bear him.”  And Frank, a great friend of yours, shouts loudly to you not to try.

“Pho,” says your tormentor,—­“the little coward!”

If you could whip him, you would go down the tree, and do it willingly; as it is, you cannot let him triumph; so you advance cautiously out upon the limb; it bends and sways fearfully with your weight; presently it cracks; you try to return, but it is too late; you feel yourself going; your mind flashes home—­over your life, your hope, your fate—­like lightning; then comes a sense of dizziness, a succession of quick blows, and a dull, heavy crash!

You are conscious of nothing again, until you find yourself in the great hall of the school, covered with blood, the old Doctor standing over you with a phial, and Frank kneeling by you, and holding your shattered arm, which has been broken by the fall.

After this come those long, weary days of confinement, when you lie still through all the hours of noon, looking out upon the cheerful sunshine only through the windows of your little room.  Yet it seems a grand thing to have the whole household attendant upon you.  The doors are opened and shut softly, and they all step noiselessly about your chamber; and when you groan with pain, you are sure of meeting sad, sympathizing looks.  Your mother will step gently to your side and lay her cool, white hand upon your forehead; and little Nelly will gaze at you from the foot of your bed with a sad earnestness, and with tears of pity in her soft hazel eyes.  And afterward, as your pain passes away, she will bring you her prettiest books, and fresh flowers, and whatever she knows you will love.