"Here, Dorothy," called Tom. "You are not to work. This sofa is especially provided for our comfort. Here, sit down," and taking her arm, he attempted to lead her away from the ladder upon which Ned stood.
"Let me have it," said Ned, jerking the rope from Dorothy's grasp. Instinctively she held to it, and looked up in some astonishment at her cousin.
A moment later Ned swayed toward her. She had released her hold of the rope, and the sudden easing of the strain which the youth put upon it caused him to lose his balance. He swayed still farther away from the ladder, and thrust out his hands to grasp the rungs. He dropped the rope, and as Dorothy gave a frightened scream he crashed to the floor, right at her feet, narrowly missing striking her.
She had barely time to jump aside when the ladder crashed down beside the prostrate form of Ned.
Instantly the room was in an uproar. Ned was hurt—he did not attempt to move, but lay there almost unconscious.
"Oh, my boy!" cried Mrs. White, bending over him.
"Ned! Ned!" implored the frightened Dorothy, with her white face very close to his. "It was all my fault!"
"No," spoke up Tom, "I should not have distracted him while he was up so high. Come, boy," to Ned, "let me lift you."
The strong arms of Tom Scott encircled the helpless one, and very tenderly Ned was lifted, then carried to a lounge in the library.
"Oh, I'm all right," he managed to say, when Tom had placed him on the couch. "I just hurt my—knee, I guess."