The actual heap on the floor was the broken chair, Ronnie mixed up with it; and, on top of both, that unholy Infant, whose precocious receptivity is responsible for the entire business.

I exonerate the Florentine chair; I exonerate poor Ronnie.

I shall always maintain that that confounded 'cello worked the whole show, out of its own unaided tummy!" But Helen did not laugh.

She did not even smile.

"The heap on the floor was not Ronnie," she repeated firmly, "nor was I kneeling beside it.