wrist not long before, and she had to be a
bit careful of it. We all knew that. She didn't cry out when Mrs. Lister
jerked her wrist, but I saw her turn white, and knew it was the bad
one."

"So he chucked himself on top of old Mrs. Lister, and pounded her as
hard as he could," put in Norah, "and she was so astonished she let me
go. She turned her attention to Jim then, and gave him a terrible whack
over the head that sent him flying. And just then we heard a voice that
was so angry we hardly recognised it for Dad's, saying--

"'What is this all about?'"

"My word, we were glad to see Dad!" said Jim. "He came over and put his
arm round Norah--poor little kid. Mrs. Lister had screwed her wrist till
it was worse than ever it had been, and she was as white as a sheet. Dad
helped her on with her clothes. All the time Mrs. Lister was pouring out
a flood of eloquence against us, and was nearly black in the face with
rage. Dad took no notice until Norah was dressed. Then he said, 'Come to
me in the study in twenty minutes,' and he picked Norah up and carried
her inside, where he dosed her, and fixed up her wrist. I put on my
clothes and followed them.

"Norah and I never said anything until Mrs. Lister had told her story,
which was a fine production, little truth, and three parts awful crams.
Then Dad asked for our side, and we just told him. He knew we never told
lies, and he believed us, and we told him some other things Mrs. Lister
used to do to us in the way of bullying and spite. I don't know that Dad
needed them, because Norah's wrist spoke louder than fifty tales, and he
didn't need any more evidence, though after all, she might have grabbed
the bad wrist by mistake, and she had done far worse things on purpose.
But the end of it was, Mrs. Lister departed that night, and Norah and I
danced a polka in the hall when we heard the buggy drive off."

"That being the case," said Norah gravely, "we'll all have an apple."

The apples were produced and discussed, and then it was time to think of
home, for the sun had long since left the glistening surface of the
falls. So they gathered themselves up, and reluctantly enough left the
beautiful scene behind them, with many a backward look.

The way home was rather silent. The shadow of the boys' departure was
over them all, and Norah especially felt the weight of approaching
loneliness. With Dad at home it would have been easier to let the boys
go, but the prospect of sever