It had disappeared, but on the floor beneath lay a heap of broken bits and splinters of wood which one horrified glance showed her were all that Dick’s hatchet had left of her beautiful work.
With a cry of grief and dismay she dropped into a chair, then laying her head on the table she began to sob in a heart-broken way.
Presently a hand was laid on her shoulder and her father’s voice asked in tenderly sympathizing tones, “My darling, what is the matter? What can have happened to distress you so?”
“Look, papa, look! Dick did it with his hatchet,” she sobbed, pointing to the tell-tale heaps on the floor.
“Dick?” he exclaimed. “He is not allowed to come in here, and should never be permitted to have a hatchet. I shall take measures to prevent a repetition of such mischievous doings.”
“But he’s destroyed them all, papa; every one, and I haven’t time to make any more for Gracie’s birthday.”
“No, dear child, and I am very sorry for you. What can I do to comfort you?” he asked, sitting down and taking her in his arms. “Will it console you a little to know that I am much gratified to find that you have borne this severe trial of patience without flying into a passion.”
“Yes, papa, it does comfort me some. But I hope Dick will keep out of my way for a while; because I’m afraid I might fly at him and box his ears.”
“I shall see that he does not come near you,” the captain said, gravely. “And I must find some way to help you to get another present for Gracie. We will try to think of something to buy which she would be sure to like.”
“But it won’t be my work, papa!”