"Do please be quiet, Gerty," whispered Stanley, imploringly.
"I shall be quiet when I see fit, Miss Stanley; and I will thank you to call me by my right name. But that is always the way. Nobody must hint that the boys are to blame, whatever happens. I don't want to hurt Bram's feelings, but I do think nobody has a right to be so giddy, frolicking and romping in the woods on Sunday evening."
"I was not frolicking and romping," said Bram, in a half-choked voice; "anything but that."
"Oh, of course you were not doing anything wrong, you never are."
"Gerty," said Mr. Van Alstine, "be quiet instantly."
Gerty looked up in amazement, and met her father-in-law's eye. The red spark was dangerously bright.
She sailed with dignity out of the room, and was heard to slam three successive doors in her progress to her own apartment.
"Indeed, father, we were not romping or frolicking at all," said Bram, raising his head from the pillow once more. "Marie leaned over to see if she could get a glimpse of the fall, and she was not a bit careless either. She was holding on by the tree, and I never knew the bank would crumble."
"Nor I, my son. I don't think any one was to blame. It was just an unlucky accident."
"How is Marie?"