“You’ll be on crutches for a few days,” he told Mr. Eckenrod. “The bone may be cracked, but there is no break.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard today!” Mr. Eckenrod declared in relief. “I’ve got some important business to take up with a certain party!”
“Vernon!” remonstrated his wife.
After the doctor had gone, Mr. Eckenrod was put to bed on the davenport. But he refused to remain still. As the pain in his leg eased, he experimented walking with the aid of a chair.
“I’ll be using my pins in three days at the latest!” he predicted. “Just as soon as I can get around, I’m going to the monastery and punch that hunchback’s nose!”
“Vernon!”
“Now don’t ‘Vernon’ me,” the artist glared at his wife. “The man richly deserves it! He’s a thief and bully!”
Penny gathered up her mittens which had been drying by the hearth. “You may have trouble getting into the monastery,” she remarked. “If Winkey sees you first, he’ll probably lock the gate.”
“You think that would stop me?”
“How else could you get in? Over the fence?”