that something had happened.

Mrs. Frost pushed the door open and entered.

Chloe had sunk down on the floor and was rocking back and forth,
holding her right foot in both hands, with an expression of acute
pain on her sable face. Beside her was a small pail, bottom
upward.

Mrs. Frost was at no loss to conjecture the nature of the
accident which had befallen her. The pail had contained hot
water, and its accidental overturn had scalded poor Chloe.

"Are you much hurt, Chloe?" asked Mrs. Frost sympathizingly.

"Oh, missus, I's most dead," was the reply, accompanied by a
groan. " 'Spect I sha'n't live till mornin'. Dunno what'll become
of poor Pomp when I'se gone."

Little Pomp squeezed his knuckles into his eyes and responded
with an unearthly howl.

"Don't be too much frightened, Chloe," said Mrs. Frost
soothingly. "You'll get over it sooner than you think. How did
the pail happen to turn over?"

"Must have been de debbel, missus. I was kerryin' it just as
keerful, when all at once it upsot."

This explanation, though not very luminous to her visitor,