“Humpty Dumpty got a great fall!” when there was a crash and a cry, and Nan, in some inexplicable way, had fallen backwards from Annie’s shoulders.
In one instant Hester was in the midst of the group.
“Don’t touch her,” she said, as Annie flew to pick up the child, who, falling with some force on her head, had been stunned; “don’t touch her—don’t dare! It was your doing; you did it on purpose—you wished to do it!”
“You are unjust,” said Annie, in a low tone. “Nan was perfectly safe until you startled her. Like all the rest you are unjust. Nan would have come to no harm if you had not spoken.”
Hester did not vouchsafe another word. She sat on the ground with the unconscious and pretty little flower-crowned figure laid across her lap; she was terrified, and thought in her inexperience that Nan must be dead.
At the first mention of the accident Cecil had flown to fetch some water, and when she and Miss Danesbury applied it to little Nan’s temples, she presently sighed, and opened her brown eyes wide.
“I hope—I trust she is not much hurt,” said Miss Danesbury; “but I think it safest to take her home at once. Cecil, dear, can you do anything about fetching a waggonette round to the stile at the entrance of the wood? Now the puzzle is, who is to take care of the rest of the little children? If only they were under Miss Good’s care, I should breathe more easily.”
“I am going home with Nan,” said Hester, in a hard voice.
“Of course, my love: no one would think of parting you from your little sister,” said the governess soothingly.
“If you please, Miss Danesbury,” said Annie, whose face was quite as pale as Hester’s, and her eyes heavy as though she longed to cry, “will you trust me with the little ones? If you do, I will promise to take them straight to Miss Good, and to be most careful of them.”