Part 17 (1/2)

”Now, Kitty dearest, that's not true,” said Minnie; ”she didn't lead me at all. I led her. And how did I know there was any danger? I remember now that dear, darling Ethel said there was, and I didn't believe her. But it's always the way.” And Minnie threw her little head on one side, and gave a resigned sigh.

”And did you really get into the crater?” asked Mrs. Willoughby, with a shudder.

”Oh, I suppose so. They all said so,” said Minnie, folding her little hands in front of her. ”I only remember some smoke, and then jolting about dreadfully on the shoulder of some great--big--awful--man.”

”Oh dear!” sighed Mrs. Willoughby.

”What's the matter, Kitty dearest?”

”Another man!” groaned her sister.

”Well, and how _could_ I help it?” said Minnie. ”I'm _sure_ I didn't want him. I'm _sure_ I think he might have let me alone. I don't see _why_ they all act so. I _wish_ they wouldn't be all the time coming and saving my life. If people _will_ go and save my life, I can't help it. I think it's very, very horrid of them.”

”Oh dear! oh dear!” sighed her sister again.

”Now, Kitty, stop.”

”Another man!” sighed Mrs. Willoughby.

”Now, Kitty, if you are so unkind, I'll cry. You're _always_ teasing me. You _never_ do any thing to comfort me. You _know_ I want comfort, and I'm not strong, and people all come and save my life and worry me; and I really sometimes think I'd rather not live at all if my life _has_ to be saved so often. I'm sure _I_ don't know why they go and do it. I'm sure _I_ never heard of any person who is always going and getting her life saved, and bothered, and proposed to, and written to, and chased, and frightened to death. And I've a _great_ mind to go and get married, just to stop it all. And I'd _just_ as soon marry this last man as not, and make him drive all the others away from me. He's big enough.”

Minnie ended all this with a little sob; and her sister, as usual, did her best to soothe and quiet her.

”Well, but, darling, how did it all happen?”

”Oh, don't, don't.”

”But you might tell _me_”

”Oh, I can't bear to think of it. It's too horrible.”

”Poor darling--the crater?”

”No, the great, big man. I didn't see any crater.”

”Weren't you in the crater?”

”No, I wasn't.”

”They said you were.”

”I wasn't. I was on the back of a big, horrid man, who gave great jumps down the side of an awful mountain, all sand and things, and threw me down at the bottom of it, and--and--disarranged all my hair.

And I was so frightened that I couldn't even cur--cur--cry.”

Here Minnie sobbed afresh, and Mrs. Willoughby petted her again.

”And you shouldn't tease me so; and it's very unkind in you; and you know I'm not well; and I can't bear to think about it all; and I know you're going to scold me; and you're _always_ scolding me; and you _never_ do what I want you to. And then people are _always_ coming and saving my life, and I can't bear it any more.”

”No-o-o-o-o-o, n-n-no-o-o-o, darling!” said Mrs. Willoughby, soothingly, in the tone of a nurse appeasing a fretful child. ”You sha'n't bear it any more.”