The little fellows faced round in
alarm, cried out wildly in an unknown tongue and then, in spite of their
burdens, tried to run away.
The inevitable happened: one of them stumbled, fell against the other,
and down they both went headlong with a crash. The tall Madonna was
broken in two; Washington had his cocked hat crushed; the cherubs had
lost their wings; and as for the elephants and the giraffes, there was a
general mix-up of broken trunks and long necks.
The little fellows had scrambled to their feet, and after a frightened
glance set up wails of lamentation in which the word _padrone_ recurred
fast and fearfully. By that time Master Brench, with the older pupils,
among whom were my cousins, Addison, Theodora and Ellen, had come out.
The old Squire, too, chanced to be approaching with a horse sled; often
of late, since the traveling was bad, he had driven to the schoolhouse
to get us.
It was a wholly compassionate group that now gathered about the forlorn
itinerants. Who they were or whither they were traveling was at first
far from clear, for they could not speak a word of English.
At last the old Squire, touched by their looks of despair and sorrow,
decided to put their "rafts" on the horse sled and to take the little
strangers home with us for the night.
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