ate. They had
a romp together, and then the puppy blundered off, and Fina went indoors
to wash her hands, because the puppy's idea of a romp had been a roll in
the dust, which Fina had gladly consented to share.

But as she passed the door of the best parlour she stopped a minute, for
the door was open. It was the day for cleaning out the room, but Miss
Patty had stopped in the middle of the cleaning to go to the back-door
to see a pedlar who had some really wonderful bargains in handkerchiefs
and silk dresses, and mixed white pins and back-hair combs. Fina often
wondered afterwards whether that pedlar was a real pedlar or a magician
in disguise.

Now, Fina was an obedient little girl. She did _not_ slip into the
parlour to have a look round just because the door was open and no one
was about. But she had not been forbidden to _look_ in, if she got the
chance, so she stood at the door and looked at the stuffed parrot, and
the junk, and the rest of the things; and as she looked she started, and
said:

'_Oh!_ it will tumble down--I know it will--if a door banged even!'

And just then the front-door _did_ bang, and the pagoda trembled; for it
was standing at the very edge of the chiffonnier, and one of the little
black, carved claw-feet of its stand was actually overhanging the
chiffonnier edge.

'I _must_ stand it steady,' said Fina. 'If I go and tell Miss Patty it
may tumble off before I get back.'

So she went quickly in and took the glass case and stand and pagoda very
carefully in her hands to move them back to a safe place.

It was this very moment that the foxhound puppy chose for rushing
in--all wriggle and bark and clumsy paws--and plunging between Fina's
feet. She reeled, staggered, and she, the puppy, the stand, the glass
case, and the precious pagoda, all went down together in a crushing
heap.

When Fina picked herself up the puppy's tail was just disappearing round
the door, and at her feet lay a scattered heap of splintered ivory and
glass, the hopeless ruins of the beautiful pagoda.

Her heart seemed to stand still, and then began to beat so hard and fast
that she felt as though she had a steam-engine in her chest.

Her hands trembled so much that she could hardly pick up the pieces; but
she did begin to pick them up.

'Perhaps it could be mended,' she said, 'with glue or white of egg, like
nurse did the china basin; only the pieces are so small and chippety,
some of them, that I don't see how