‘No, I don’t think I am,’ said Isobel bravely, although she did not attempt to move, ‘not really hurt, but I think I have knocked the back of my head against something.’
‘Can’t you sit up?’ said Vivian. ‘If you could just sit up, and get into the house, we would bathe it with tepid water. That’s good for a bump I know. Mother always bathes Dorothy’s head with tepid water if she knocks it.’
‘I’ll try,’ said the little girl, and with his help she struggled to her feet, but when she tried to walk she turned so sick and giddy she was glad to sit down on the broken branch again. She was still sitting there when Ronald ran up triumphantly, out of breath with his long run round by the lodge. His look of triumph faded away, however, when he saw her.
‘Hallo, Isobel!’ he exclaimed, ‘I thought you were not hurt. You haven’t broken your arm or anything?’
‘Of course she hasn’t,’ answered his brother impatiently. ‘She is only feeling queer because she fell on the hard path and bumped her head. She’ll be all right in a minute.’
But Ronald did not like the look on his cousin’s face.
‘I think I’ll just run in for Aunt Dora,’ he said; and, without heeding Isobel’s protest, he turned and ran off.
Aunt Dora had gone out, however, and when he told his tale to Ralph, who had grown tired of waiting for the others to be taken, and had gone indoors, he only laughed at his cousin’s grave face and anxious voice.
‘Don’t be a muff,’ he said in his languid, patronising way. ‘If you were at school you would learn not to be so squeamish over every little knock that every one gets. I expect Isobel will be all right by now, and it will teach both Vivian and her not to get out of the garden like that. Father would be in a wax if he knew, I can tell you.’