Mrs. Downey drew a tub of hot water, but it required all of Penny’s athletic prowess to get herself in and out of it. Her right arm was swollen and painful to lift. The skin on one side of her body from hip to ankle had been severely scraped and bruised. She could turn her neck only with difficulty.
“I do think I should call a doctor from the village,” Mrs. Downey declared as she aided the girl into bed.
“Please, don’t,” pleaded Penny. “I’ll be as frisky as ever by tomorrow.”
Mrs. Downey lowered the shades and went away. Left alone, Penny tried to go to sleep, but she was too uncomfortable. Every time she shifted to a new position wracking pains shot through her body.
“If this isn’t the worst break,” she thought, sinking deep into gloom. “I’ll be crippled for several days at least. No skiing, no bob-sledding. And while I’m lying here on my bed of pain, Francine will learn all about the Green Room.”
After awhile the warmth of the bed overcame Penny and she slept. She awakened to find Mrs. Downey standing beside her, a tray in her hand.
“I shouldn’t have disturbed you,” the woman apologized, “but you’ve been sleeping so long. And you’ve had nothing to eat.”
“I could do with a little luncheon,” mumbled Penny drowsily. “You didn’t need to bother bringing it upstairs.”
“This is dinner, not luncheon,” corrected Mrs. Downey.
Penny rolled over and painfully pulled herself to a sitting posture.