The black-haired twin was scratched and torn and disheveled, and was howling lustily, but the young lady who picked her up showed her small sympathy. "Lorena Sawyer," she demanded solemnly, "where did you drop from?"
"I was sittin' up in the apple-tree," roared the fallen one, "an' the mean ole thing busted, an' I—I—tu-m-bled!"
"You were up at the window, listening to what Arabella and I were saying! You know you were!"
The child nodded. "O' course," she answered innocently. "An' say, Elsie"—she began to wipe away her tears—"if Arabella's fellah doesn't come back, will you give me an' Lenny a bit o' the silk for our dolls' dresses?"
Elsie caught her by the arm and shook her.
"Hush!" she cried, glancing toward the open window in dismay. "Arabella'll hear you, and if you tell—if you breathe a word of it, she'll get sick and die; do you understand?"
"But will y' give us some of the blue silk?" asked the black-haired twin, with orphan-like persistence.
"Elsie!" It was Miss Arabella's voice. "Elsie, come here quick!"
With a parting warning to the culprit, the girl ran back to the bedroom in deep concern. Surely this shock would be too much for the invalid, and now she certainly would die.
"Arabella!" she cried in amazement, as she reached the bedroom door, "what are you doing?"