Bertha shrieked. There was an answering shriek from above, and Gertrude, followed by all the other girls, came flying down the stairs.
"What has happened? What—where is Peggy?"
"In the tank!" cried Bertha. "Oh! dear me, what shall we do? Peggy, are you much hurt?"
"No; I—think not!" spluttered Peggy. "I came down on my nose, that's all. Feels as if it was broken, but I don't know—no! It doesn't crack when I wiggle it. It's bleeding a good deal, though. Perhaps I'd better stay in till it stops."
Bertha tried to climb up to the perch which Peggy had so suddenly left vacant, but in vain; her legs were far too short. Gertrude, however, came with a flying leap, and scrambled cat-like up the side of the tank. Looking down, with the kindest heart in the world, and a world of sympathy to fill it, she still could not help bursting into a peal of laughter. Peggy, sitting in the tank, crowned with gold and scarlet leaves, and dripping like Undine, was certainly a funny spectacle.
"Oh, do forgive me for laughing, Peggy dear!" cried Gertrude. "You—you do look funny, but I'm dreadfully sorry."
"Well, I'm laughing myself," said Peggy, "I don't see why you shouldn't. But did you ever hear of a water-nymph with a nosebleed? If I could only get at my pocket—"
"Here, take mine," and Gertrude dropped her handkerchief, which Peggy caught adroitly.
"'HERE! TAKE MY HAND AND SCRAMBLE OUT.'"