but she was not hurt.

"I'll get whipped, yas'm, I will, fer breaking the pitcher."

"You won't!" declared Sylvia, half angrily. "It's my mother's pitcher,
and I'll tell her you didn't mean to break it. Now you go and put on
another dress, and tell Jennie to come up here and wipe up this floor."

"I ain't got no other dress; an' if I goes an' tells I'll get whipped,"
persisted the child.

Sylvia began to wonder what she could do. She thought Estralla was
stupid and clumsy to fall down and break the pitcher, and now she
thought her silly to be so frightened.

"I tells you, Missy, I su'ly will be whipped," she repeated so earnestly
that Sylvia began to believe it. "An' when my mammy sees my dress all
wet--" and Estralla began to sob, but so quietly that Sylvia realized
the little darky was really frightened and unhappy.

"Don't cry, Estralla," she said more gently, patting her on the
shoulder. "I'll tell you what to do. You are just about my size, and
I'll give you one of my dresses. It's pink, and it's faded a little, but
it's pretty. And you take this towel and wipe up the floor as well as
you can. Then you slip off your dress and put on mine." While Sylvia
talked Estralla stopped crying and began to look a little more cheerful.

Sylvia ran to the closet and was back in a moment with a pink checked
gingham. It had a number of tiny ruffles on the skirt, and a little
frill of lace around the neck.