But her attempts were less successful than are the efforts of the average ingenious child.
"I can't, Tom, I can't! My fingers are not strong enough, and my nails are broken--don't be angry with me, Tom."
She made frantic little dabs at the wall. But her endeavours to make an impression on the paper were without result. It was plain that with her unassisted nails she might continue to peck at it in vain for ever.
Madge turned to Mr. Graham.
"'I can't, Tom, I can't! My
fingers are not strong enough,
and my nails are broken--don't
be angry with me, Tom!'" (To
face p. 290.)
"Have you a pocket-knife?"
Without a word he took one from his waistcoat pocket.
Not waiting for him to open it, she took it from him with an action which almost amounted to a snatch. With her own fingers she opened the largest blade. Making a large, and under the circumstances curious circuit, in order to reach her, leaning over the washstand, touching the woman on the shoulder, she held out to her the knife.
Shrinking under Madge's finger, with an exclamation she looked round to see who touched her.