“So much for stolen pleasures,” thought the miserable girl. “Here I am back again, battered, torn—oh, how my wrist aches!—and having run into the gravest danger of my whole life. But there! I must only hope for the best. Now to untie the cord, put it carefully out of sight, shut the window, take off my horrid, useless finery, and get into bed.”
CHAPTER XXX.—AUGUSTA IS FRIGHTENED.
The next day Augusta’s wrist was considerably swollen, and she was in such pain that when Miss Roy went to see her she immediately said the doctor had better be sent for. Augusta herself was scarcely thinking of her wrist.
“If I can only see the doctor by himself,” she thought, “and get him to vaccinate me and say nothing about it. But that is quite impossible. And yet, it certainly ought to be done.”
The girls were all very kind to Augusta, whose head ached, and who was quite willing to remain in bed. But the one question on all the pairs of lips was:
“How did you do it, Gussie? How did you give your wrist such an awful sprain?”
“I did it shutting the window,” said Augusta, jumping at the first excuse she could think of. “Oh, it is nothing; I shall get up presently. It is not my wrist that I mind so much, but the headache I had yesterday evening has not quite gone.”
The doctor came, and said the wrist was badly sprained. He bandaged it carefully, and told Augusta she must wear her arm in a sling.
“How did you say you did it?” was his final remark.
“In shutting the window,” said Augusta. “I slipped somehow.”