“I haven’t anything to flaunt.”
“Wait till I take off my thkirt,” piped the little lisping girl.
“Be careful that you don’t fall,” warned Harriet.
Tommy quickly stripped off her skirt, then leaning over, swung it back and forth. Instantly there was a bellow and a charge from the enraged bull. The skirt was whisked from her hands on the sharp horns of the furious animal that had charged it.
“Thave me!” cried Tommy. “Oh, thave my thkirt!”
There was reason for alarm in Tommy’s case at that moment. The bull was tossing its head to release the skirt that had become impaled upon the sharp horns. Presently the skirt fell to the ground. The animal began stamping upon and prodding it. Tommy got into action at about the same time. Shrieking and protesting, she began pelting the animal with apples that she picked from the tree for the purpose. Some of the missiles reached their mark. Most of them did not.
“Oh, my thkirt, my thkirt!” wailed the little girl.
“Never mind, you have saved Harriet,” comforted Miss Elting.
Harriet, the instant the bull left her, started to wriggle backwards. The limb gave way with a crash, and Harriet plunged to the ground, but by skilfully twisting her body she avoided striking on her head. She was up like a flash and once more sprang for the tree. This time she did not trust to a treacherous limb, but scrambled hastily up the trunk and perched herself high and safe in the crotch of the tree a few seconds later.
“Gracious! That was a narrow escape,” gasped the guardian. “How do you feel?”