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.