Susan got her little girl in her arms before Mr. George could reach her, and Chow-chow clung there, sobbing away her fright and pain as if the maternal purring was a new and pleasant solace,
"I'll never play that nasty old puckerage any more," she declared, feeling of the purple lump on her brow.
"Nor I either, in that way," whispered her mamma, with a look that made Chow-chow ask curiously,—
"Why, did you hurt yourself too?"
"I am afraid I did."
"Be sure that your platform is all right before you try again, Poppet, else it will let you down when you least expect it, and damage your best friends as well as yourself," said Mr. George, setting up the fallen rostrum.
"I'm not going to have any flatporm; I'm going to be good and play with Coopy, if he'll let me," added the penitent Chow-chow, glancing with shy, wet eyes at Cupid, who stood near with a torn jacket and a bruise on the already wounded hand.
His only answer was to draw her out of her mother's arms, embrace her warmly, and seat her
