He had laid aside his hat and washed his hands. Now he sat down by the bed and smiled at the dazed, moaning little Maude. Julia felt something expand in her heart as she watched him, his intense, intelligent face, his singularly winning smile, the loose lock of dark hair on his forehead.
"Now, then, Maude," said he, his clever, supple fingers on her wrist, "where does it hurt?"
Maude whimpered something made unintelligible by the fast-stiffening cut in her lip.
"Her back's broken, Jim, no doubt about it," said Miss Toland grimly.
"I think her side hurts," Miss Pierce submitted eagerly.
"Well, we'll see—we'll see!" Doctor Studdiford said soothingly. "Now, if you'll help me, Miss Page, we'll get off these clothes—ah!" For an anguished moan from the sufferer coincided with his discovery that the little left arm hung limp. Julia loosened the sleeve as the surgeon's scissors clipped it away, and she held the child while the arm was set and bandaged. Miss Pierce was faint, and Miss Toland admitted freely that she hated to see a child suffer, and went away. "Only a clean dislocation, Aunt Sanna!" said Jim, cheerfully, when he came out of the sickroom. "She'll have to lie still for a while, but that's all. The cut on her mouth doesn't amount to anything. She's all right, now—Miss Page is telling her stories. She ought to have a glass of milk, or soup, or something; then she'll go to sleep. I'll be in to-morrow. By the way, you have a little treasure there in Miss Page!"
"Julia? Glad you have the sense to see it, Jim!"
"She—is—a—peach!" the doctor mused, packing his very smart little instrument case. "Who is she?"
"A little girl I found. Yes, she's a nice child, Julia. She's been here six years now."
"Six years! Great Scott! How old is she?"