"How did it happen to get broke?" demanded Miss Hitty, with harshness.
"I never knew an ankle to get broke by falling off a ladder."
"Any ankle will break," temporised Dr. Ralph, "if it is hurt at the right point."
"I wish I could have had your father."
"Father wasn't there," returned Ralph, secretly amused. "You had to take me."
Miss Hitty's face softened. There were other reasons why she could not have had Ralph's father.
"When can Minty go home?"
"Minty can't go home until she's well. She's got to stay right here."
"If she'd fell in the yard," asked Miss Hitty, peering keenly at him over her spectacles, "would she have had to stay in the yard till she got well?"
The merest suspicion of a dimple crept into the corner of Doctor Ralph's mouth. His eyes danced, but otherwise his face was very grave. "She would," he said, in his best professional manner. "A shed would have had to be built over her." He fancied that Miss Hitty's constant presence might prove disastrous to a nervous patient. He liked the quiet, veiled woman, who obeyed his orders without question.
"How much," demanded Miss Mehitable, "is it going to cost?"