I don't know what I said, I was so startled; or whether I said anything; but the next instant I saw that her hand was badly cut, for blood came streaming from it.
"O Miss Adela! how could you? And you've hurt yourself so!"
"I don't care! I've got it!" said she proudly.
"I can't let you, Miss," I said.
That very moment the door opened, and Mr. Laurence walked in, followed by Mr. Bertram; and didn't they both call out! I expected Miss Adela to break out into accusations of me; and I thought I should surely be blamed. But she didn't say a word at first, not even to answer their questions. She seemed to have paid away her anger, and not to be in a hurry to defend herself. Mr. Laurence sat down and took her on his knee, and Mr. Bertram pitied the poor little hand, and together they looked to see if any glass was sticking there. Then they tied it up in Mr. Laurence's big silk pocket-handkerchief, seeming satisfied that she wasn't so badly hurt as might have been; and Mr. Laurence said—
"How did it happen, Adela?"
She gave a great sigh, and didn't speak, but put her head down on his shoulder.
"Come, Addie; how was it?" said Mr. Bertram, giving her a kiss. "You poor little mite, did you tumble with your hand against the glass?"
"I think you'd better ask the museum-boy," said she; "and please put this away." She held out the other hand with the catseye.