Dinah was wringing her hands and crying when Mr. Delight hurried into the drawing-room.
“Don’t feel so badly, Dinah,” said Mrs. Delight bravely. “Dr. Betson is the best surgeon in the world.” And as she smiled a little, Dr. Betson rang the bell violently.
“Well, well!” he said heartily, kneeling down to examine the break. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Delight, because I can fix this arm in a trice! Just spread a few blankets on the floor for a comfortable bed and I’ll go to work.”
Betsey pulled a piece of new elastic (kept for just this purpose) out of her work-box, threaded Mrs. Delight’s arms on, and tied them tight. And then to make her work look quite professional, she bandaged the right arm beautifully with cheese cloth.
“Is it possible the arm is set?” asked Mrs. Delight as the doctor put up his instruments (a ribbon-runner and a pair of blunt scissors).
“All done, Madam,” declared Dr. Betson. “This is a very fortunate kind of break. Now that it is properly set, you do not even need to be careful. I would suggest that you take a good rest, however.”
“SHE ALWAYS STOOD MR. DELIGHT UP IN HIS SHIRT-SLEEVES, TO SUPERINTEND THINGS IN GENERAL”
“Indeed she will!” agreed Mr. Delight shaking hands with the gruff doctor. He was still quite pale. “Now, as soon as I can move Mrs. Delights bed up to her room, we will all go to bed, for we are very much exhausted with moving.”
Betsey carefully slipped on Mrs. Delight’s long, lacy night-dress, and tucked her in gently, and soon she was asleep.