“Oh! what is to be done!” repeated poor Alie, in real distress.
Johnny felt so angry with himself, that he was much inclined, after his usual fashion, to vent his anger upon his sister. Seeing, however, that they were both in the same trouble, and that it had been occasioned by his laziness in making the little girl do what he ought to have done himself, he repressed his indignation, and turned his mind to the means of remedying the evil.
“My uncle will be in a downright tempest!” he exclaimed; “what say you to a good long walk right off to the farm, to get out of the way of its fury?”
“It would be just as bad when we came back!” said Alie dolefully, stooping to pick up the injured book.
“Don’t touch it!” cried Johnny authoritatively; “don’t get the stain on your dress as well as on everything else. I have hit on a famous plan. We’ll shut up the cat in the room, then go on our walk, and no one on earth will guess that she did not do the mischief.”
“Oh! but, Johnny, would it be right?”
“Right! fiddlestick!” cried the boy. “Put on your bonnet and be quick, while I look for Tabby in the kitchen.”
Alie had great doubts whether she ought to obey, but she was frightened and confused, and accustomed to submit to the orders of her brother; and, after all, her uncle was so fond of the cat, that it was likely to suffer much less from his anger than any other creature would have done.
Tabby was soon caught, and placed on the floor near the broken bottle. Johnny dipped one of her paws in the fluid, to serve as further evidence against her, and then came out of the little room.
“I must get out my work—I left it there,” said Alie.