"Stop! stop! oh, stop!" she cried. "The baby cut himself with these. Oh, Spice! Spice!" and running to the clothes-line post, to which the poor little fellow had been tied, she fell down beside him and sobbed for joy.
When matters were all made clear, it seemed that Edith, in her misery, had pushed and worked her hand down the back of the sofa, felt the scissors, and on drawing them forth, noticed the blood on them, and then it flashed across her mind that it was Baby Townsend's blood, and that he must have wriggled his hand down behind the cushions in the same way.
Mrs. Townsend was quickly summoned, the discovery explained to her, and on examining closely the cut in Baby's finger, the innocence of Spice was fully established.
Win made haste to put away his gun, and the little yellow dog enjoys life to this day.
"Onery, twoery, ickery, ann,
Phillisy, fallasy, Nicholas, John."
WALKING LIKE PAPA.