There he lay, his poor foolish head rolling about on the carpet, and his body some distance off. Hopelessly broken, a ruined mandarin, he would never nod any more!
For a minute the little girls gazed speechlessly at the wreck; there was silence in the room, except for the steady tick-tack of the clock. Then Ethelwyn turned a terrified face towards her friend.
“Oh, Pennie!” she cried, “what shall I do?” for she was really afraid of Miss Unity.
Pennie rose, picked up the mandarin’s head, and looked at it sorrowfully.
“Mother told us not to touch the china,” she said.
“But can’t we do anything?” exclaimed Ethelwyn wildly; “couldn’t we stick it on? He’s not broken anywhere else. See, Pennie!”
She put the mandarin on the mantel-piece and carefully balanced the broken head on his shoulders.
“He looks as well as ever,” she said; “no one would guess he was broken.”
“But he is,” replied Pennie; “and even if he can be mended I don’t suppose he’ll ever nod like he used to.”
“Are you going to tell her we broke him?” asked Ethelwyn after a short pause.