Twilight Stories
from solitary confinement, and thus delighted to sparkle more than ever in its resting-place in the little black hand. With trembling fingers she fastened it into the centre of the lace spenser, above her naughty little bosom, hurrying to the glass to do so, and had just taken one look, when a low cry of distress struck upon her ear.It filled her whole soul with dismay, rooting her like a little frozen thing to the spot. It was Miss Sylvia, she knew.With one mighty effort she tore herself from the spot, and rushed headlong into the hall. "Oh--oh--OH!" came from the invalid's room.At that Viny wrung her hands and writhed in dire distress. "She's a-dyin'!" she gasped, her knees knocking together in a lively manner; "I don't darst to look--I don't!--I've killed her!" And the whole flood of remorse sweeping her very soul, she turned and scuttled down the crooked little stairs and into the street. "A doctor!" was all her thought. She remembered hearing Caryl say he lived in a big brown house that had lots of flowers in the windows. But where upon the face of the earth the house was situated, Viny knew no more than a bird. However, she must get him, so she dashed blindly on, turning the first corner to run headlong into the arms of a portly old lady who was placidly enjoying the fresh air and sunshine at the same time that she displayed her rich street attire. "Oh, my goodness!" cried the old lady, startled out of all fine speeches by the collision, and jumping in fright to the extreme edge of the curbstone. Then seeing the cause, she cried in anger, "You miserable, dirty little thing you, you've nearly killed me!" At the word "killed," Viny began to dance in terror on the sidewalk. "I know it," she cried, "oh, dear, I know it! she's dead, an' grandma 'll beat me." "And if you don't know any better," cried the old lady, vainly trying to settle her gray puffs as they were before, "than to run into people in this way, I'll have you arrested, I will!" At this Viny was completely overcome. Her guilty conscience pictured all sorts of punishments; worse, far worse, than "grandma's" judgments, and, falling on her knees, she grasped the old lady's black satin gown and implored for mercy. The old lady, now her attention was drawn off from her own annoyance, settled her eyes on the brooch half concealed by a fold of the little lace spenser. "You wicked, bad child!" she exclaimed, seizing her arm and pouncing one stiffly gloved hand on the sparkling brooch; "you've stolen that! It's bad enough to be run into by a dirty little thing fresh from Bedlam, without being wicked into the bargain. That's TOO much!" The little black figure being too wretched to hear this tirade, could only mumble and wail and wriggle closer and closer into the folds of the rich gown. "Get 
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