that the only person who saw her in this piteous plight was Mary, the
nurse, who doted on the children, and was always ready to help them out
of their troubles.

On this occasion she petted and cosseted Katy exactly as if it had been
Johnnie or little Phil. She took her on her lap, bathed the hot head,
brushed the hair, put arnica on the bruises, and produced a clean frock,
so that by tea-time the poor child, except for her red eyes, looked like
herself again, and Aunt Izzie didn't notice anything unusual.

For a wonder, Dr. Carr was at home that evening. It was always a great
treat to the children when this happened, and Katy thought herself happy
when, after the little ones had gone to bed, she got Papa to herself,
and told him the whole story.

"Papa," she said, sitting on his knee, which, big girl as she was, she
liked very much to do, "what is the reason that makes some days so lucky
and other days so unlucky? Now today began all wrong, and everything
that happened in it was wrong, and on other days I begin right, and all
goes right, straight through. If Aunt Izzie hadn't kept me in the
morning, I shouldn't have lost my mark, and then I shouldn't have been
cross, and then _perhaps_ I shouldn't have got in my other scrapes."

"But what made Aunt Izzie keep you, Katy?"

"To sew on the string of my bonnet, Papa."

"But how did it happen that the string was off?"

"Well," said Katy, reluctantly, "I am afraid that was _my_ fault, for it