Let go of my
slate, I say! I'll tell Cousin Helen what a mean girl you are, and then
she won't love you a bit."
"There, then, take your old slate!" said Katy, giving her a vindictive
push. Elsie slipped, screamed, caught at the banisters, missed them, and
rolling over and over, fell with a thump on the hall floor.
It wasn't much of a fall, only half-a-dozen steps, but the bump was a
hard one, and Elsie roared as if she had been half killed. Aunt Izzie
and Mary came rushing to the spot.
"Katy--pushed--me," sobbed Elsie. "She wanted me to tell her my secret,
and I wouldn't. She's a bad, naughty girl!"
"Well, Katy Carr, I _should_ think you'd be ashamed of yourself," said
Aunt Izzie, "wreaking your temper on your poor little sister! I think
your Cousin Helen will be surprised when she hears this. There, there,
Elsie! Don't cry any more, dear. Come up stairs with me. I'll put on
some arnica, and Katy sha'n't hurt you again."
So they went up stairs. Katy, left below, felt very miserable:
repentant, defiant, discontented, and sulky all at once. She knew in
her heart that she had not meant to hurt Elsie, but was thoroughly
ashamed of that push; but Aunt Izzie's hint about telling Cousin Helen,
had made her too angry to allow of her confessing this to herself or
anybody else.
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