sister, though still sobbing, glared out from behind the knuckles she
was rubbing into her eyes, and exclaimed, "Eustace, I shall tell
Harry."

"Hold your tongue," said Eustace, petulantly; "Harry has nothing to
do with it."

Mrs. Kingston looked amazed. I set to work to talk them both down,
and must have given a very wild, nervous account of the disaster.
At last Dermot opened the door for Harry, who came in, looking very
pale, with one hand entirely covered and in a sling, the other bound
up all but the thumb and forefinger. To our anxious inquiries, he
replied that the pain was much better now, and he should soon be all
right; and then, on being further pressed, admitted that the little
finger had been so much crushed that it had been taken off from the
first joint, the other three fingers had been broken and were in
splints, and the right hand was only torn and scratched. Mrs.
Kingston exclaimed at this that Mr. Yolland should have waited for
the doctor to venture on such an operation, but both Dermot and
Harold assured her that he could not have waited, and also that it
could not have been more skilfully done, both of which assurances she
must have heard with doubts as to the competence of the judges, and
she much regretted that she could not promise a visit from her doctor
that evening, as he was likely to be detained all night.

Dermot came downstairs with us, and we found Mr. Yolland waiting at
the door to extract a final promise that Harold would go to bed at
once on coming home. It seemed that he had laughed at the
recommendation, so that the young surgeon felt bound to enforce it
before all of us, adding that it was a kind of hurt that no one could