set again; for the carriage was broken square in two, and the ball-bearings were scattered all through the box, and the keys looked as if somebody had walked on them. It wasn't the express company's fault; for it was all because the carriage wasn't tied, and had just slammed around every time the box was pitched five or ten feet. It wasn't my fault, either, for I tied the carriage before I left, and Uncle Fred said he'd see to having the thing packed;—but I kind of think that he used it a time or two before he packed it, and then forgot to tie it up again;—but I'll never tell him I think so.
"When Father got to Indianapolis, I took him, first thing, to see the wreck; and he said it looked as if I had been trying to use it for an automobile, and had had a collision. He didn't fuss about it, because there wasn't any one there who was responsible. Father is sensible that way;—he doesn't just fuss on principle, but only when it will do some good. He can go some then, though!
"So that afternoon we went down to see about having it fixed; and when he found what it would cost,—he whistled. 'But will it stand up then?' he asked.
