blow. One arm and both legs were
torn off and weltered in the scattered stuffing beneath; the crop of
black curls was tangled in the topmost limb of the sapling. The blue
silk gown would never fit the pliant waist again. Rozillah was beyond
the possibility of reconstruction.

I threw my arms around Cousin Molly Belle's neck, and burst into a
torrent of childish tears.

I think I must have been whipped for that afternoon's work. I ought to
have been, and Solomon, as a disciplinarian, was in high repute in the
family connection. I am sure that I was put forthwith to bed and left
alone for an eternity without even Musidora to bear me company. I had an
indefinite impression that they feared the effect of association with
such a wicked child upon her morals and manners.

I recollect that my mother brought me the bread and milk which was all
the supper I was to have, and talked me tenderly into tears.

But most vividly do I recall the apparition which stole into my solitude
after supper--which I had scented longingly from afar. A wraith all in
white--gown and neck and arms and face, the masses of fluffy hair making
this last more wraith-like. It sank to the floor beside my low bed, and
gathered me, miserable culprit, in a cuddling embrace, and bade me "tell
Cousin all about it--the whole _truly truth_."

I could always talk to her, and I began at the beginning and went
straight and steadfastly through to the nauseous end.

I did not cry while I talked, and when struck by her silence I raised a
timid hand to her dear cheek and found it wet, I was surprised.

"Why, Cousin Molly Belle!" I stammered. "Are you so angry with me as
_that_?"

"Angry? yes, Namesake, but not with you, poor little sinner! You and I
are always getting into scrapes--aren't we? Maybe that is why I am going
to ask your mother to let you sleep with me to-night."

Which delicious cup of happiness consoled the outgoing of the first
tragical day of my life.

[Illustration]

Chapter II

A Prize Fight and a Race

Cousin Molly and I were spending an afternoon in the Old Orchard. My
mother had a houseful of company, a common circumstance in itself. This
particular houseful was so little to Cousin Molly Belle's liking that
she got away as soon as dinner was over, drawing me, a willing captive,
in her train. Furthermore, she had stolen Bud, my baby brother, from the
chamber floor where Mam' Chloe had deposited him and a string of spools,
whi