It was Howell.
There was a scream from the bedroom, Fidelia's voice.

"Stop that, you hateful boy! I'll tell mamma! You've nearly put my eye out." A muffled giggle and a scamper of feet down the hall was the only answer.
Fidelia threw open the door and looked out, a water pitcher in her hand.
She stopped in amazement at sight of the Little Colonel, who was waiting for a chance to dodge down the hall past the dangerous door, into the main passage.
"For mercy sakes!" exclaimed Fidelia.

"When did _you_ come ?" "In time fo' yoah watah fight," answered the indignant Little Colonel, shaking out her wet handkerchief.

She was thoroughly provoked, for the front of her fresh white dress was drenched, and the dainty rosebud sash streaked with water.
Fidelia laughed.

"You don't mean to say that you caught the ducking I meant for Howl!" she exclaimed.