I flung the hatchet!--

My Aunt Isobel has a splendid figure, with such grace and power as one
might expect from her strong health and ready mind. I had not seen her
at the moment, for I was blind with passion, nor had Philip, for his
back was turned towards her. I did not see distinctly how she watched,
as one watches for a ball, and caught the hatchet within a yard of
Philip's head.

My Aunt Isobel has a temper much like the temper of the rest of the
family. When she had caught it in her left hand she turned round and
boxed my ears with her right hand till I could see less than ever. (I
believe she suffered for that outburst for months afterwards. She was
afraid she had damaged my hearing, as that sense is too often damaged
or destroyed by the blows of ill-tempered parents, teachers, and
nurses.)

Then she turned back and shook Philip as vigorously as she had boxed
me. "I saw you, you spiteful, malicious boy!" said my Aunt Isobel.

All the time she was shaking him, Philip was looking at her feet.
Something that he saw absorbed his attention so fully that he forgot
to cry.

"You're bleeding, Aunt Isobel," said he, when she gave him breath
enough to speak.

The truth was this: the nervous force which Aunt Isobel had summoned
up to catch the hatchet seemed to cease when it was caught; her arm
fell powerless, and the hatchet cut her ankle. That left arm was