child stared at him with a blank, fascinated gaze. Once he saw her
lips move, but no sound came from them; and after waiting a minute he
dashed her from him with all the strength of his mad fury.

There was a shriek from Mrs. Coomber, and screams from the boys, but
poor little Tiny uttered no sound. They picked her up from where she had
fallen, or rather had been thrown, and her face was covered with blood;
but she uttered no groan--gave no sign of life.

"Oh, she's dead! she's dead!" wailed Dick, bending over her as she lay
in his mother's arms.

The terrible sight had completely sobered Coomber. "Did I do it? Did I
do that?" he asked, in a changed voice.

"Why, yer know yer did," growled Bob; "or leastways the whisky in yer
did it. I've often thought you'd do for mother, or one of us; but I
never thought yer'd lift yer hand agin a poor little 'un like that."

Coomber groaned, but made no reply. "Hold your tongue, Bob," commanded
his mother; for she could see that her husband was sorry enough now for
what he had done.

"What's to be done, mother?" he asked, in a subdued voice; "surely,
surely I haven't killed the child!"

But Mrs. Coomber feared that he had, and it was this that paralysed all
her faculties. "I don't know what to do," she said, helplessly, wiping
away the blood that kept flowing from a deep gash on Tiny's forehead.

"Couldn't you give her some water?" said Dick, who did not know what
else to suggest. Coomber meekly fetched a cupful from the pan outside,
and Mrs. Coomber dipped her apron in it, and bathed Tiny's face; and in
a minute or two Dick saw, to his great delight, that she drew a faint,
fluttering breath. Coomber saw it too, and the relief was so great that
he could not keep back his tears. "Please God He'll spare us His little
'un, I'll never touch another drop of whisky," he sobbed, as he leaned
over his wife's chair, and watched her bathe the still pallid face.

"Open the door, Dick, and let her have a breath of fresh air; and don't
stand too close," said his mother, as Tiny drew another faint breath.

The door was opened, and the boys stood anxiously aside, watching the
faint, gasping breath, until at last Tiny was able to swallow a little
of the water; and then they would have closed round her again, but their
mother kept them off.

"Would a drop o' milk do her good?" whispered Coomber after a time; but
she was sensible enough to recognise his voice, and shuddered visibly.
He gr