Swinging to
and fro like the pendulum of a great clock, she gradually rose higher
and higher, driving herself along by the motion of her body, and
striking the floor smartly with her foot, at every sweep. Now she was at
the top of the high arched door. Then she could almost touch the
cross-beam above it, and through the small square window could see
pigeons sitting and pluming themselves on the eaves of the barn, and
white clouds blowing over the blue sky. She had never swung so high
before. It was like flying, she thought, and she bent and curved more
strongly in the seat, trying to send herself yet higher, and graze the
roof with her toes.
Suddenly, at the very highest point of the sweep, there was a sharp
noise of cracking. The swing gave a violent twist, spun half round, and
tossed Katy into the air. She clutched the rope,--felt it dragged from
her grasp,--then, down,--down--down--she fell. All grew dark, and she
knew no more.
When she opened her eyes she was lying on the sofa in the dining-room.
Clover was kneeling beside her with a pale, scared face, and Aunt Izzie
was dropping something cold and wet on her forehead.
"What's the matter?" said Katy, faintly.
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