Aunt Jane's Nieces
Patricia drew him up, until he seized the plank with his hands. Then
the girl crept back a little, and as the boy swung his feet upward she
caught them and twined his legs over the plank.
And now came the supreme struggle. The girl could do little more to
help him. He must manage to clamber upon the top of the plank himself.
Ordinarily Kenneth might have done this easily; but now his nerves
were all unstrung, and he was half exhausted by the strain of the past
few minutes. Almost he did it; but not quite. The next effort would be
even weaker. But now Patricia walked out upon the plank and Aunt Jane
saw her lean down, grasp the boy's collar and drag him into a position
of safety.
"Bravely done!" she murmured, but even as the sound came from her lips
the girl upon the bridge seemed in the exertion of the struggle to
lose her balance. She threw out her arms, leaned sidewise, and then
fell headlong into the chasm and disappeared from view.
Aunt Jane's agonized scream brought Phibbs running to her side. At
a glance she saw that her mistress had fainted, and looking hastily
around to discover the cause she observed the boy crawl slowly across
the plank, reach the tree, and slide down its trunk to pass out of
view behind the high hedge.
"Drat the boy!" growled the old servant, angrily, "he'll be the death
of Miss Jane, yet."
CHAPTER XVI.
GOOD RESULTS.
Uncle John could not run so swiftly as the lawyer, but he broke
through a gap in the hedge and arrived at a point just beneath the
plank at the same time that Silas Watson did.
One glance showed them the boy safely perched on top of the plank,
but the girl was bending backward. She threw out her arms in a vain
endeavor to save herself, and with a low cry toppled and plunged
swiftly toward the ground.
There was little time for the men to consider their actions.
Involuntarily they tried to catch Patricia, whose body struck them
sharply, felling them to the ground, and then bounded against the
hedge and back to the pavement.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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