And so saying, she ran quickly across the garden, till she reached the spot where the swing was suspended from the branch of two tall fir trees.
Amy was in the swing, which Captain Clair was pushing, while Lucy was clapping her hands as each time the child rose higher in the air.
"Oh, do stop," said Mabel, running up to them quite out of breath, and scarcely able to say any more.
"No, no," said Lucy, "we want to see if Amy can touch that bough. What a beautiful swinger she is—she nearly did it then, I declare—try again, Amy."
"John says it is unsafe," cried Mabel, trying to be heard, "do, do stop—for mercy's sake, Captain Clair, do stop her."
Both were, however, deaf to her entreaty. Lucy rejoiced in what she thought superior nerve, and called to her not to be an old maid, frightened at everything; while Clair thought her very feminine and pretty, but apprehended no real danger.
Mabel continued to exclaim, till unable to get a hearing, she burst into tears of vexation and alarm, fearing to touch the rope, lest she might cause the accident she feared.
At the same moment, while she watched Amy ascend quickly through the air, till her feet scattered a few leaves from the bough she had been trying to touch, there came a heaving sound, then a loud crash—the swing gave way, and Amy fell violently to the ground. With a scream of piercing anguish, she sprang to her side, where she lay close by a knotted root of the tree, which she had struck in falling.
Lucy stood blushing and terrified, uttering some confused excuses for not listening to one who justice whispered was never fanciful.