Quicksilver: The Boy With No Skid to His Wheel

by George Manville Fenn

“What is the matter?” cried Helen.

“I won’t—I won’t—I declare I won’t put up with it no longer!” cried the maid in the intervals of sundry sobs and hysterical cries.

“But how did it happen!” said Mrs Millet.

“It’s—sit’s—sit’s—sit’s—sit’s—sit’s—his tricks again,” sobbed Maria.

“Dexter!” cried Helen.

“Yes—es—Miss—es—ma’am,” sobbed Maria. “I’d dide—I’d dide—I’d—just half—half—half filled the war—war—war—ter—jug, and he ran—ran—ran at me with his head—dead in the chest—and then—then—then—then knocked me dud—dud—dud—down, and I’ll go at once, I will—there.”

“Dexter,” said Helen sternly; “was this some trick?”

“I don’t know,” said the boy sadly. “I s’pose so.”

“But did you run at Maria and try to knock her down?”

“No,” said Dexter. “I was going into my room in a hurry, and she was coming out.”