The men settled the foreman down into the chair cautiously.
“Shall I git th’ doctor?” asked one.
Jack laughed.
“Th’ doctor, indade!” he said. “Mary’ll fix this all right in no time. It ain’t bad. But I’m much obliged to ye, boys.”
The men took themselves back to work, happier, somehow, for having witnessed the little scene on the pathway.
But when the boot was cut away from the swollen ankle, it was evident that its owner would not go about on it again for many days to come. It was bathed and rubbed with liniment and tightly bandaged by the wife’s deft fingers, and the pain gradually grew less.
“I slipped on a rail, y’ see,” explained Jack, when the injured member had been properly cared for.
“My foot went down into a frog, an’ then I had t’ fall over and wrench it. I’m sorry it give y’ such a turn, Mary; I ought t’ have sent a man on ahead t’ warn you.”
Mary smiled down on him indulgently.
“’Twas better this way, Jack, dear,” she said. “I’m so happy now t’ have y’ alive here talkin’ t’ me that it hardly seems you’ve met with an accident at all! See, we was jest gittin’ th’ Christmas tree ready; now you kin set there, with your foot up on a chair like this and boss th’ job. It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good; and I’m glad fer your own sake. Now you won’t have to go out in th’ storm.”