"Did you tumble down, Eliza?" he asked with great concern.
"No," said Eliza.
"Did you bump your head agin something?"
"No."
"Did anybody hurt you?" and already the professor was casting wrathful glances from boy to boy, well calculated to strike terror to the heart of the culprit.
"Not much;" said the matter-of-fact little voice.
"I guess 't was her pa done it," spoke up Patsy Linders. "He's a bloomin' terror when he's drunk."
Without a word, Simon rose and led the little creature into the lean-to, where he tenderly bathed the bruise in cold water, giving no voice to the swelling indignation that tore through him. His tone and touch were but the gentler for that, as he sought to soothe the self-contained little victim, who, truth to tell, seemed not much in need of his ministrations.
"My lamb!" he murmured. "My little lamb!"
"Ma said to never mind," the plucky little lamb remarked. "He ain't often so."
