“Oh, Wally—what shall I do?” cried Crescenz, “I never touched a lamp in my life, and I am sure I cannot light it.”
“It’s quite easy, Miss Crescenz; I’ll pour the oil, and you light those pieces of wood and hold them to the wick.”
Crescenz did as she was desired.
“Stop till the oil is in, miss, if you please,” said Wally.
The oil was put in, the wick lighted, the cylinder fixed, and Crescenz raised the globe towards its place, but either it was too heavy for her hand, or she had not mentally measured the height, for it struck with considerable force against the upper part of the lamp, and broke to pieces with a loud crash.
“Oh, heavens, what shall I do!” she cried in her agitation, clasping the pieces of glass which had remained in her hand. “What shall I do! Mamma will be so angry! I dare not tell her—for my life I dare not. What on earth shall I do!”
“Send out and buy another as fast as you can,” said Hamilton. “Is there no glass or lamp shop near this?”
“I don’t know,” said Crescenz, blushing deeply.
“Yes, there is,” said Walburg, “in the next street, just round the corner, you know, Miss Crescenz—but a——” and she stopped and looked confused.
“I must tell mamma, or get Hildegarde to tell her. Oh, what a misfortune! what a dreadful misfortune!”