“It did your trousers! You'll have to change them. Hurry!”
Some of William's normal faculties were restored to him by one hasty glance at the back of his left leg, which had a dismantled appearance. A long blue strip of cloth hung there, with white showing underneath.
“HURRY!” said Mrs. Baxter. And hastily gathering some fragments of glass, she dropped them upon the engraving, pushed it out of the way, and went forward to greet Miss Pratt and her attendants.
As for William, he did not even pause to close his mouth, but fled with it open. Upward he sped, unseen, and came to a breathless halt upon the landing at the top of the stairs.
As it were in a dream he heard his mother's hospitable greetings at the door, and then the little party lingered in the hall, detained by Miss Pratt's discovery of Jane.
“Oh, tweetums tootums ickle dirl!” he heard the ravishing voice exclaim. “Oh, tootums ickle blue sash!”
“It cost a dollar and eighty-nine cents,” said Jane. “Willie sat on the cakes.”
“Oh no, he didn't,” Mrs. Baxter laughed. “He didn't QUITE!”
“He had to go up-stairs,” said Jane. And as the stricken listener above smote his forehead, she added placidly, “He tore a hole in his clo'es.”
She seemed about to furnish details, her mood being communicative, but Mrs. Baxter led the way into the “living-room”; the hall was vacated, and only the murmur of voices and laughter reached William. What descriptive information Jane may have added was spared his hearing, which was a mercy.