"No, we tried one afternoon on the wall, but we were too miserable, so we stopped."
"Well, I can teach him here in bed. That's one thing you don't want a leg to do!"
"I say, Roy," Dudley asked, very cautiously; "don't you feel very funny without it?"
Roy looked away for a minute without answering, and then he said slowly:
"I try and not think about it. It will be worse when I get up—people might think when they see me in bed that I'm all right, but they'll know the truth when I'm up."
Then he added more cheerfully, "It's awfully queer, but do you know I'd never know it wasn't there as far as the feeling goes. Why I can feel the pain right down to my toes now. And at night I'm always dreaming I'm running races with you as fast as I can, and then I wake and can't believe I'll never run again."
As Roy grew stronger he had more visitors; Rob came to him every day for a reading lesson, and old Principle brought him books and sweets. Ben was allowed an interview, and the old groom, with tears running down his cheeks, besought Roy to forgive him.
"I never ought to allowed you, and 'twas me that egged you on and sent you to your death!"
"No, it was my own fault, Ben," said Roy, humbly, "and the thing that pains me most—more than breaking my leg—is to think that I should be the first Bertram who has failed. Dudley did it, and I didn't, and of course I shall never be able to try it again. Perhaps I was too proud of what I could do. We have a picture in the nursery of a boy standing on the top of a bridge, and then tumbling in the water; it's called 'Pride must have a fall.' I've had a fall, haven't I, Ben?"
Ben came out from that interview declaring that "Master Roy ought to be sainted!"