"The clumsy boy!" said the president under his breath. Mrs. Mills was in dismay; she thought of all the trouble she had had in bringing this ornament to Aintab on her last journey back from America; it was a present from her brother, besides, and there it was, all broken to bits by the clumsiness of a country lad. Archag stood staring vacantly, his ears tingling, until Mrs. Mills took pity on him and told him he need not feel so badly about it; an accident might happen to any one. But Archag made no reply; he had not heard a word she said. Mrs. Mills made a gesture of impatience: she thought the boy very ill-bred, and that he might at least have offered some apology. If she had observed him a little more closely she would probably have changed her opinion. In order to enliven the company and make a little diversion, she sat down at the piano and asked Garabed and Dikran to accompany her. The boys always took their mandolins with them when they were invited to the president's house, for it was a great pleasure for them to play with Mrs. Mills. At nine o'clock, tea and sweetmeats were served, and then the boys took their leave, after thanking their hosts for their kindness. Then Garabed tried to console Archag: "I say, whatever got into you? I didn't see what happened." "Well, if you were ticklish, and somebody began to scratch the soles of your feet with a pen-knife, I guess you would jump, just like me." "I wonder who could have played that trick on you?" "I don't know, and what good would it do if I did? The mischief is done." But now Aram had joined them: "Listen, Archag," he said resolutely. "It's all my fault, and I assure you on my honor I'm broken-hearted over it. You know how I love to play tricks. Well, when I saw you with your legs holding on to the chair like cork-screws, I couldn't resist the temptation to make them change their position, but I never dreamed of causing such an accident. I let you come away first, so I might speak to Mrs. Mills, and I owned up to her. And now I have an idea: we'll go and buy a pretty table-cover, you and I, and send it to her; then she will understand that we are doing what we can to make up for our stupidity." Archag clapped his hands: "Yes, that's a fine idea, and we'll put on the outside: 'From Aram and Archag, in memory of their awkwardness.' I was very angry with you for a minute, but now I forgive you with all my heart; you just wanted to tease me, but as for me, I have been too awkward for words." He held out his hand to Aram, who gripped it again and again. A few days after this, Mrs. Mills showed her husband a charming table-cover of white silk, embroidered with arabesques, and handed him a note. The president read it.