Kat and Kit.
"Oh, Kittie! what shall I do," she cried, giving up entirely, between the sharp pain in her wrist, and the speedy arrival of this second disgrace. "It's only yesterday, that I crawled into the house in this fix; I can't go again."
"Never mind; I'll go," said Kittie, lost in sympathy. "Everybody is in the front part of the house, and I'll slip in the back way, go in over the roof, and bring you some clothes. Just sit down here and wait; I'll hurry, and it'll be all right."
So Kat sat down, quite pale with the painful wrist, and meditated, in a desperate fashion, on her inability to keep out of trouble and mischief; But Kittie was back in an incredibly short space of time, all flushed and panting, and with a little bundle of clothes tucked under her arm.
"Here Kat is a skirt, and dress, and stockings, and my slippers," she cried, running inside the wall where Kat sat forlornly.
"No one saw me; here hurry. How's your wrist?"
"Hurts," said Kat briefly, finding tears inclined to obstruct her utterance; and then they were silent, while the muddy garments were hastily laid aside and the dry ones slipped on; and the two started round-a-bouts for home.
A little while later, Kittie appeared at the sitting-room door, where the girls were sewing with mother, while Ernestine trilled and warbled at the piano. Mrs. Dering came out to the hall in answer to Kittie's beckon, and received this somewhat incoherent report:
"Kat's upstairs; we walked the foundation, and she fell off the high part; I took her some clothes, but I don't know what she's done to her wrist;" and Mrs. Dering did not waste any time trying to get a straighter report, but hurried up stairs, where Kat was lying on the bed, moaning and trying not to cry, with the painfully swollen wrist, laid out on a pillow. Twenty minutes' later the doctor was there with splints and bandages, and Kat, looking into his eyes with a vague alarm, asked, after he had examined it: "How long before I can use it?"
"Many weeks, Kathleen."