"What is the matter!"
"Nothing," retorted Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes.
"My dear old girl, what is it?" I insisted anxiously.
Then she laughed. She blurted out quickly:
"It's only that—the more I move the more it hurts me! Oh, Joan, I'm sore! That's why I snapped at you so crossly. They say 'Cross as a bear with a sore paw'—but—but I'm sore everywhere!"
"Oh! So am I!" I groaned, laughing with the relief of the confession. "I feel as if I'd got fifty new bones."
"So do I!"
"All hurting me like mad!"
"So are mine!" declared Elizabeth, hobbling. "Well, I suppose we'll get used to it. They say this wears off. Let's hope for the best—and for goodness' sake don't let us squabble."
"I never want to!"