Two men were now holding the pony, and the big fellow was bending over Mary and the ghastly face of the child. Abner pushed him aside. ‘She’s all right . . . she’s all right!’ said Mary. Gladys was crying in shrill, frightened gasps.
‘My leg, mam, oh, my leg!’ she wailed.
‘Try to move your toes, love,’ a woman said. ‘If she can move her toes the bone’s not broken.’
A dozen others clustered round with various advice, while the men stood staring stupidly with pained eyes. Mary was hiding the child’s face in her bosom. Morgan clung crying to her skirts. Her face was terribly set, but she soon recovered her presence of mind.
‘Abner . . . you take Morgan,’ she said. ‘We must find a doctor.’
‘He lives just round the corner, ma’am,’ a bustling woman cried. ‘The red ’ouse with the trees in front of it. You can see the roof.’
‘Let me take her. She’s too heavy for you,’ said Abner and Mary surrendered the child, picking up Morgan in her own arms. A curious crowd followed them to the doctor’s house.
The Eighteenth Chapter
They found the doctor just setting out on his morning round. His wife, a forbidding woman, plainly dressed and flat-chested, caught him in the stableyard and brought him back into the surgery.
‘It’s the first accident . . . a little girl,’ she said. ‘Did you ever know the fair without one?’