“You will break it!” she said, looking up from her knees.
“I will, then!” he answered, and began to strain at it.
“I shall not tie your leg again the next time it comes loose!” she threatened.
He gave her arm a vicious twist, but happily her bones were in better condition than his. She stretched her other hand toward the broken branch.
“That’s right: reach me the stick!” he grinned.
She brought it round with such a swing that one of the bones of the sounder leg snapped. He fell, choking with curses. The lady laughed.
“Now you will have to wear splints always!” she said; “such dry bones never mend!”
“You devil!” he cried.
“At your service, my lord! Shall I fetch you a couple of wheel-spokes? Neat—but heavy, I fear!”
He turned his bone-face aside, and did not answer, but lay and groaned. I marvelled he had not gone to pieces when he fell. The lady rose and walked away—not all ungracefully, I thought.