Steve looked curiously at the arm hanging limply by his side. He had never seen a broken arm before though he had heard that arms and legs could break and be mended like hoe or ax handles.
By questioning, Mrs. Follet found that he had had 62 nothing to eat since the day before, so she prepared him a dainty meal which filled the mountain boy with wonder. There was a poached egg, a bit of toast and a cup of hot milk, none of which had he ever tasted or seen prepared before. But it all was very, very good, and as he ate Nancy slipped shyly into the room. She had stayed outside in frightened misery, feeling that all the trouble was her fault. Her mother said kindly:
“That’s right, child, come on in; our boy is better now.” The little girl sat down timidly on the edge of a chair, and Steve took in the complete vision.
Soft yellow locks strayed out from a ribbon and tumbled about before a pair of deep blue eyes. Round cheeks were pink and soft, sweet lips were red and shyly smiling, a white apron with ruffles almost covered a blue gingham dress. The boy held his breath at the beauty of the apparition. He had never dreamed of anything so sweet and pretty in all the world.
It was not long before Mr. Follet returned with the doctor and the broken arm was successfully set, Steve bearing the pain “like a trump,” as Mr. Follet put it. Then Mrs. Follet said he must go to bed at once, and he went up a tiny flight of stairs to a bed in a little attic chamber which she had made ready. Knowing the ways of mountain folk, Mrs. Follet did 63 not insist that he undress, as the task would be difficult for him with the broken arm. He slept soundly in spite of pain in the arm upon a remarkable bed “off the floor” and awoke feeling well, and eager to see again his new friends.
When he got down the stairs, Mrs. Follet was busy getting the breakfast, and Mr. Follet was ready with questions.
“Where under the canopee (which was a favourite expression with Mr. Follet) did you drap from yesterday, just in time to save our Nancy? You don’t live hereabouts, do you?”
“No,” said Steve, “I come from Hollow Hut.”
“And where’s that?” returned Mr. Follet.
Steve couldn’t tell very clearly, but gave an account of his long journey and told about the watch and the fox skin which he was going to take to the man in the city.