“Your shoe-tie is loose, my child.”
But Rosamond was growing tired, for her foot had become painful, and so she was cross, and neither returned answer, nor paid heed to the warning. For when we are cross, all our other faults grow busy, and poke up their ugly heads like maggots, and the princess’s old dislike to doing any thing that came to her with the least air of advice about it returned in full force.
“My child,” said the woman again, “if you don’t fasten your shoe-tie, it will make you fall.”
“Mind your own business,” said Rosamond, without even turning her head, and had not gone more than three steps when she fell flat on her face on the path. She tried to get up, but the effort forced from her a scream, for she had sprained the ankle of the foot that was already lame.
The old woman was by her side instantly.
“Where are you hurt, child?” she asked, throwing down her burden and kneeling beside her.
“Go away,” screamed Rosamond. “You made me fall, you bad woman!”
The woman made no reply, but began to feel her joints, and soon discovered the sprain. Then, in spite of Rosamond’s abuse, and the violent pushes and even kicks she gave her, she took the hurt ankle in her hands, and stroked and pressed it, gently kneading it, as it were, with her thumbs, as if coaxing every particle of the muscles into its right place. Nor had she done so long before Rosamond lay still. At length she ceased, and said:—
“Now, my child, you may get up.”
“I can’t get up, and I’m not your child,” cried Rosamond. “Go away.”