each
trial.

Soon he began to boast of his skill, and aimed his sling at an ancient
portrait over the mantel. It was of a dignified old gentleman in a
black stock and powdered wig. He had keen, eagle eyes like Miss
Patricia, which seemed to follow one all around the room.

"I bet I could hit that picture square in the apple of its eye," he
bragged, "right in its eye-ball,--bim!"

"Oh, don't try!" begged Phil. "It's our great-great-grandfather, and
Aunt Patricia thinks a lot of that picture."

"'Course I wouldn't do it," answered Stuart, taking another aim, "but
I could, just as easy as nothing." Still dallying with temptation, he
pointed again at the frowning eye and drew the rubber slowly back. All
of a sudden, zip! The buckshot seemed to leap from the rubber of its
own accord, and Stuart fell back, frightened by what he had done. A
round black hole the size of the buckshot gaped in the middle of the
old-ancestor's eye-ball, as clean cut as if it had been made with a
punch. It gave it the queerest, wickedest stare you can imagine. It
was the first thing one would notice on looking about the room. Stuart
was white about the mouth.

"Oh, dear," sighed Phil, half crying, "if Aunt Patricia was only like
the wise monkeys of Japan, then she wouldn't notice."

"But she will," said Stuart; "she always sees everything."

Phil had given me an idea. As soon as I heard Miss Patricia's silk
skirts coming slowly through the hall with their soft swish, swish, I
ran and sat in the doorway with my hands over my eyes, in token that
there was something that she ought not to look at. It should have
amused her, for she knew the story of the ebony paper-weight, but
instead it seemed to arouse her suspicion that something was wrong.
She looked at the boys' miserable faces and then all around the room,
very slowly. It was so still that you could have heard a pin drop. At
last she looked up at the picture. Then she fairly stiffened with
horror. She couldn't find a word for a moment, and Stuart cried out,
"Oh, Aunt Patricia, I'm _so_ sorry. It was an accident. I didn't
_mean_ to do it, truly I didn't!"

[Illustration: "SHE FAIRLY STIFFENED WITH HORROR."]

There's no use harrowing up your feelings, Ring-tail, repeating all
that was said. Miss Patricia simply couldn't believe that the shot
could have struck dead centre unless the eye had been deliberately
aimed at, and she thought something was wrong with a boy who would
even take aim