"Well, young lady," he said cheerfully. "You've made quite a morning of it."
Her first thought was of Good.
"Tell me," she cried anxiously. "How is he? Is he very badly hurt? Will he die?"
"Unquestionably," smiled the Doctor. But when she sank back with a groan, he added, "just like we all will."
"Oh. Then he isn't fatally hurt?"
"Bless you, no! Broken leg, that's all. Bad break, I'll admit—compound fracture—but nothing to cause alarm."
"But he's got to go to a hospital," spoke up Roger, whom she had not noticed before.
"The hospital? Who said so?"
"The Doctor. He says ..."
"Oh, by all means," said the Doctor, quite as if the prospect gave him personal pleasure. "This isn't a bruised finger, you know. That chap won't be up and around for three weeks or a month at least. The hospital's the place for him."