“Gi’ me the kid, an’ you get in; you can reach up for it better, ’cause ye’re taller,” said Tommy. “Is it much of a drop?” asked Clare. “Nothing much,” answered Tommy. Clare handed him the baby, instructing him how to hold it, and threatening him if he hurt it; then laid himself on his front, shoved his legs across the area through the window, and followed with his body. Holding on to the edge of the window-sill, he let his feet as far down as he could, then dropped, and fell on a heap of coals, whence he tumbled to the floor of the cellar. “You should have told me of the coals!” he said, rising, and calling up through the darkness. “I forgot,” answered Tommy. “Give me the baby,” said Clare. When Tommy took the baby, he renewed that moment, and began to cherish the sense of an injury done him by the poor helpless thing. He did not pinch it, only because he dared not, lest it should cry. When he heard Clare fall on the coals, and then heard him call up from the depth of the cellar, he was greatly tempted to turn with it to the other end of the house, and throw it in the pool, then make for the wall and the fields, leaving Clare to shift for himself. But he durst not go near the pool, and Clare would be sure to get out again and be after him! so he stood with the hated creature in his unprotective arms. When Clare called for it, he got into the shallow area, and pushed the baby through the window, grasping the extreme of its garment, and letting it hang into the darkness of the cellar, head downward. I believe then the baby was sick, for, a moment after, and before Clare could get a hold of it, it began to cry. The sound thrilled him with delight. “Oh, the darling!--Can’t you let her down a bit farther, Tommy?” he said, with suppressed eagerness. He had climbed on the heap of coals, and was stretching up his arms to receive her. In the faint glimmer from the diffused light of the moon, he could just distinguish the window, blocked up by Tommy; the baby he could not see. “No, I can’t,” answered Tommy. “Catch! There!” So saying he yielded to his spite, and waiting no sign of preparedness on the part of Clare, let go his hold, and dropped the little one. It fell on Clare and knocked him over; but he clasped it to him as he fell, and they hurtled to the bottom of the coals without much damage. “I have her!” he cried as he got up. “Now you come yourself, Tommy.” He had known no baby but his lost sister, and thought of all babies as girls. “You’ll catch me, won’t you, Clare?” said Tommy. “The thing you’ve done once you can do again! I can’t set down the baby to catch you!” replied the unsuspicious Clare, and turned to seek an exit from the cellar. He had not had time yet to wonder how Tommy had got out. Tommy came tumbling on the top of the coals: he dared not be left with the water-butt and the pool and the moon. “Where are you, Clare?” he called.