“If you please, ma’am,” she said, “I’m afraid that new girl, Peggy Desmond, is hurt.”
“Hurt?” said Mrs. Fleming.
“I’m afraid she is, Mrs. Fleming. I went into the hockey-paddock just now, and found her lying on the grass; Sam the pony was there too, he had got over the stile which divides the paddock from the hockey-field. He may have kicked her perhaps. Anyhow, her leg is broken—at least she says so.”
“Thank you, Grace, for having told me. Go at once and take your place at table, and listen. Do not speak of this to any one until I give you permission. Oh, first of all send Miss Smith to me. Miss Archdale is out, unfortunately; send Miss Smith.”
Grace departed.
Mrs. Fleming rose from her seat. “I hope Grace Dodd’s account may be exaggerated,” she said, looking at Miss Greene, who was seated near her; “but we must find out. Will you come with me, Henrietta?”
Accordingly, in a very short time Mrs. Fleming, Miss Greene, and Miss Smith were seen crossing the hockey-field. Mrs. Fleming, who knew something about surgery, very tenderly felt the poor little broken leg. The gardeners were summoned, and Peggy, with great care, was lifted on to a mattress, which mattress lay upon a door, and was thus conveyed back to the house. The doctor from the nearest town was hastily summoned, and the poor child’s leg was set. It was a bad double fracture, and the doctor said that it must have been caused by a severe blow or a sudden kick. He judged of this by the bruised state of the skin surrounding the fracture.
Peggy had been moved to a lovely room in the main building, which was kept as a sort of hospital, and was replete with every luxury. The poor child was bravery itself during the setting of the broken leg, but when it was in splints, and some of the worst agony had abated, Mrs. Fleming sat down by her wild little pupil and began to question her.
“Now, my dear little girl,” she said, “you will just tell me how this happened.”
Peggy shut up her pretty lips very firmly. She shook her head, not a sound came from her.