know how Dolly is! I don't believe what you tell me about her. But I'll believe Genie. She always tells me the truth. Come here, Genie!"
Dotty screamed her sister's name in a loud voice, and the little girl came running into the sick room.
Genie looked scared and white-faced as she saw Dotty in splints and bandages.
"Genie," said Dotty, and her black eyes burned like coals, "you go straight over to Fayres and see Dolly. See for yourself and see just how she is and come straight back and tell me."
"Let her go," said the nurse; "that's a good idea."
So Genie ran over to the next house and found Mrs. Fayre.
"Please let me see Dolly," she said earnestly, "'cause if I don't Dotty thinks she's dead, and then Dotty will die too, so please let me see her, Mrs. Fayre. Can't I?"
After some consideration Mrs. Fayre said Genie might go to Dolly's room for a few moments.
"How are you, Dolly?" said the child, marching in and standing by the bedside with the air of a Royal Messenger.
"I'm pretty good," and Dolly smiled wanly at her little visitor. "How's Dotty?"
"Dotty's awful. But she'll be better when she knows how you are. So tell me zactly."
"Well, tell Dotty my right leg is broken. One of the bones just above the ankle. But tell her except for that, I'm all right and for her not to worry about me and we'll see who can get well first. And give her my love and—and—oh, that's all, good-bye, Genie!"
The little girl ran out of the room and as soon as she disappeared Dolly burst into floods of weeping. That was her way of relieving her overburdened nerves instead of screaming hysterically like Dotty.
Trudy tried to soothe her, but there was no staying the torrent of tears, until at last they stopped because Dolly was exhausted.
"There," said Mrs. Fayre brightly as she wiped Dolly's eyes, "I'm just glad you did that! There's nothing like a good cry to straighten things out. Now I shouldn't be one bit surprised if you could take a nice little nap." And Dolly did so.
Meantime Genie trotted home with her comforting news for Dotty.
"Dolly's all right," she announced. "'Cept one leg is broked. But that's all. Only just one bone of one leg. And she says to see who'll get well first."
"How did she look?" asked Dotty eagerly.
"Like a angel," replied Genie, enthusiastically. "Her face was all white and her eyes were so blue and her hair was all goldy and braided in two curly braids tickling around her ears. Oh, she looked lovely! Heaps better than you do, Dot. Your face is all red and splotchy, and your eyes are as big as saucers and your hair looks like the dickens."
"I don't care," said Dotty, crossly; "I don't care how I look."
"But I care how you feel," said her mother, "and now you know that Dolly is very much alive, I'm sure you'll let nurse bathe your face and brush your hair and then I'm going to sing you to sleep."
As is usual in case of broken bones the first night proved a very trying time for all concerned.
Dolly Fayre, though an unusually patient child, felt as if she could not bear the pain and discomfort of her strapped and splinted leg. Her mother and Trudy, and her father too, did all they could to alleviate her sufferings, but the uncontrollable tears welled up in the blue eyes and rolled over the fevered cheeks of the little sufferer.
"I try to be good, Father," she said, as Mr. Fayre bent over her, "but it does hurt so awful."
"Does it, you dear blessed baby? Let Daddy cuddle your head in his arm, so, and sing to you, maybe that will help."
But when Mr. Fayre gently put his arm under the golden head on the pillow Dolly cried out that his coat sleeve was too scratchy.
"Well, now, we'll just fix that! Give me one of your dressing gowns, Mother."
Dolly had to laugh a little when Mrs. Fayre brought a silk kimono of her own and managed to get its loose folds draped around her stalwart husband.
"Now I rather guess we won't scratch our poor little fevery cheeks," and Mr. Fayre so deftly slipped his silk clad arm under Dolly's head, that she rested in his strong clasp with a feeling of security and comfort.
"That's lovely, Daddy; it just seems as if I had some of your big strong strength and my pain doesn't hurt so much."
Then Mr. Fayre sang in soft low tones which greatly soothed the little patient. But not for long. All through the night the paroxysms of agony would recur and poor little Dolly cried like a baby, because she couldn't possibly help it.
But the Rose family had even worse times to take care of Dotty. She, too, suffered intensely and even made it worse because she wouldn't stay still. With a sudden jerk she would sit up in bed and then scream with the pain occasioned by wrenching her injured arm.
"You mustn't do that, dear," said Mr. Rose, who usually could calm Dotty in her most wilful moments.
"I have to!" cried the little girl; "you would, too, if your arm was all on fire, and shooting needles into you and not set right and has to be broken over again and all twisted up and hanging by a thread, anyway! Ow!—ow!—OW!!" Her voice rose in a shrill screech and she rocked back and forth in her pain and anger.
"Now, Dotty dear," said her father, "you must realise that you make matters a great deal worse by jumping around and moving your arm—"
"But I can't help it! I'm going to shake it till I shake it off!" and Dotty gave a violent shake of her shoulders and then screamed with the added pain she brought on herself.
She so disarranged the bandages that it was necessary to telephone for the doctor at once to readjust them.
"This won't do, young lady," said Dr. Milton as he looked at the havoc she had wrought in his careful work; "if you keep up these performances you'll have to be strapped to the bed so tightly that you can't move either arm. How would you like that?"
"I'd break loose somehow! you shan't strap me down!" Dotty's eyes blazed and her black curls bobbed as she shook her head angrily at the doctor.
But Dr. Milton paid little heed to her words. He redressed her arm and then said in his firm yet pleasant way: "I don't know you very well, Miss Dotty, but I perceive you have a strong will of your own. Now are you going to use it rightly to help yourself get well, or wrongly to make all the trouble possible for yourself and every one else?"
Dotty looked at him. She was not accustomed to this kind of talk, for her parents were inclined to be over indulgent with her tantrums and her temper.
"I do want to get well as soon as I can," she said, "and I will try to be good,—but you don't know how it hurts."
"Yes, I do know," and the good doctor smiled down at her; "I know it hurts like fury! like the very dickens and all! and I know it's just all you can do to bear it. But if you can get through to-night, I'll promise you it'll feel better to-morrow."
He went away and Dotty did try to be as good as she could,
