rely on her arms and hands, where she had clasped and held
him.

After their wounds were dressed and bandaged, and Kenneth, a little
mummy-like bundle of old white linen, lay asleep, worn out with pain
and excitement, Auntie Jean found Cricket sobbing quietly under the
sheet.

"What is the matter, dear?" asked auntie, tenderly. "Are you in such
pain?" for she knew that Cricket was a little Spartan in respect to
suffering.

"Yes, no-o," sobbed Cricket. "The pain is bad, but I don't care for
that. My--conscience--aches--so--_here_. I--can't--stand--it, auntie. I
ought to have been all burned up myself. I oughtn't to have had a fire.
I knew better, only I just thought what fun it would be. To think the
baby is burned, and all through my horrid badness!"

"My poor little girl!" said Auntie Jean, pitifully. "That is the hardest
of all for you to bear, I well know. But after all, dear, you can
comfort yourself by thinking that, but for your quickness, the little
fellow must have burned to death. You saved his life, after all. You did
what should have been done, so quickly."

"That isn't much comfort," sobbed Cricket. "He oughtn't to be burned at
all. _Any_body would have thought to throw him in the water."

"I'm not sure of that. In excitement people do not always use their
wits--especially children. Even Eunice, thoughtful as she usually is,
was behind you."

"And I sprained grandma's ankle, too. I ought to be put in prison," went
on Cricket, in a fresh deluge of remorse.

"Nobody blamed you for that, dearie, though you _are_ rather a
thoughtless little body. But the ankle was purely an accident. When it
comes to the playing with fire, however, you really should have known
better than to do such a dangerous thing. But you have learned your
lesson, and now we must be thankful the consequences are no worse."

Cricket raised a tear-stained face.

"Yes, only--my dear baby! If only I could take all his burns! I'd set
fire to myself and burn myself up, if he could be well. I did the
mischief, and he gets the worst of it."

"Indeed, little Cricket," said Auntie Jean, softly, almost to herself,
as she bent and kissed her little niece, "you will learn, as you grow
older, that that's not the least hard part of all the harm we do--we do
the mischief, and the one we love best often gets the burns."

CHAPTER XXIV.

AFTER THE SACRIFICE.

The next few days were not very happy ones. Auntie Jean had her hands
full.