“She ain’t got none,” chorused all the children.
Several women now came hurrying out to see what was the matter. One of them held out her arms to the child, but she hid her face on Elizabeth’s shoulder, and still kept up her frightened wailing.
“How d’ye know her arm’s out o’ joint?” one of the women demanded when Peggy had repeated what Elizabeth had said.
“I do know because I pulled my little sister’s arm out just that way once, lifting her over a crossing. O, I wish I knew how to slip it in again! It wouldn’t take a minute if we only knew how. Now we must get her to a doctor—quick. It is hurting her dreadfully, you know—that’s why she keeps crying so!”
“A doctor! Ain’t no doctor nearer’n East Bassett,” one woman said.
“East Bassett! Then we must take her there,” Elizabeth said to Olga, who for once stood by silent and helpless.
“We can get her there in twenty minutes—maybe fifteen if we walk fast,” she said.
“Then”—Elizabeth questioned the women—“can any of you take her there?”
The women exchanged glances. “It’s ’most dinner time—my man will be home,” said one. The others all had excuses; no one offered to take the child to East Bassett. No one really believed in the necessity. What did this white-faced slip of a girl know about children, anyhow?
“Then I’ll take her myself,” the Poor Thing declared. “I guess I can carry her that far.”