He tried to move her, but he could not manage that.
“Run, Loveday, as fast as ever you can—do!”
He looked so ill and scared, and Priscilla looked so dreadful, lying so still with her arms all crumpled up under her, that Loveday nearly fainted with fear; but she ran and ran as she had never run before, and all the way her clear shrill voice rang out: “Daddy, mother, Nurse, come quick! Where are you? Oh, do come!” She called so loudly, and there was such real distress in her voice, that by the time she reached the house her father was hurrying out to meet her; and before she had gasped out half her tale of woe, he had gathered her up in his arms, and, followed by, it seemed, the whole household, was rushing to the orchard, where Priscilla lay as Loveday had left her, and Geoffrey, as pale now as Priscilla, was still struggling to get up and at the same time to choke back the tears of pain that would force their way up.
Then there followed a busy, sad, painful time, when, between them all, they got the two injured ones to bed, and attended to their hurts. Geoffrey’s shoulder was not fractured, but it was dislocated, and he had strained and bruised both arms.
“If you had fallen backwards,” said Dr. Carlyon gravely, “instead of forwards, you would probably have dislocated your neck. How could you run yourself and your sisters into such a danger? It was most culpable of you.”
“It seemed all right,” groaned poor Geoffrey, “and I don’t know now why we fell. The branch was a strong one——”
“Yes, but the rope was not, and you put it up loosely, so that it rubbed every time you swung, and, of course, rubbed through in a very little while. You shall see the frayed ends when you are well enough; perhaps it will help to teach you how a swing should not be hung.”
Poor Priscilla had a fractured arm and a cut head, and was badly bruised all over; and when, poor child, she awoke from her unconsciousness, she found herself one big block of pain from head to heels, or so it seemed to her. But worst of all, perhaps, was the dreadful pain in her head from the blow, and the jerk, and the shock. She could not endure a ray of light, nor a sound, nor to speak or be spoken to.
Poor Loveday crept into the bedroom time after time to be near her. She brought her best books and her favourite toys, her paint-box, and even her pink parasol to lend, or to give to Priscilla, if by doing so Priscilla could only be got to look better and to take some interest in things. But Priscilla lay very still and white, moaning occasionally, and did not look at Loveday or her treasures, or seem able to take any interest in anything, and poor little Loveday crept away again, feeling perfectly miserable, and at her wits’ end, for if those things failed, she really did not know what could be done. And if she went to Geoffrey she only felt more miserable, for he was so remorseful and unhappy, and kept on saying such dreadful things about himself for having caused it all, that one could not dare ask him to play, or even to read aloud, or to do anything.
At last Loveday grew to look so ill and moped, that her father and mother decided it would be better for her to go away for a little while to more cheerful surroundings, or she would be ill too. But then came the question: “Where could she go?”