"Oh, get Up for goodness' sake! I believe you're more frightened than hurt; but if you're really hurt, sit up and tell me what's the matter."
"Let me alone," groaned Calvin. "I want to die."
"Fiddlesticks—'want to die'! Come along to the pump and wash yourself."
"You're a wicked girl! You tried to kill me!"
"I didn't. I wanted to frighten you, and—and I'm sorry; but you fired the powder yourself with your nasty pipe, and you've burnt a hole in your pocket. You'd best come along and get washed and changed before your father catches you. It looks to me you've lost one of your eyebrows, but the other one's so pale I daresay 'twon't be noticed. Or I might give you a pair with a piece of burnt cork."
It was while she stood considering this that Mr. Sam and her aunt made their appearance round the corner of the road.
"Whatever in the round world have you children been doin'?" panted Mrs. Purchase, and wound up with a gasp at sight of Calvin's face.
"I believe I'm going to die!" The boy began to writhe again.
"What has happened?" his father demanded, with a shake in the voice, stooping to lift him.
"She—she tried to kill me!" Calvin pointed at her with vindictive finger, and at once clasped both hands over his stomach.