“Now, my boy,” he said, with a kindness and gentleness in his voice which surprised Constance, “I’ve got to hurt you a little, and let’s see how brave you can be.” He took hold of the left leg the ankle and stretched it, at the same time manipulating the calf with the fingers of his other hand.
The boy gave a cry of pain, and clutched Constance’s arm, squeezing it so as to almost make her scream; but she set her teeth determinedly and took his other hand in hers.
At a word the nurse grasped the limb and held it as it was placed, while the doctor took one of the rolls, and, dipping it in the water, unrolled it round and round the leg, with a rapidity and deftness which had, to Constance, a quality of fascination in it. A second wet bandage was wound over the first, then a dry one, and the leg was gently laid back on the litter. “Take his temperature,” ordered the doctor, as he began to apply strips of adhesive plaster to the injured ribs; and though it required some persuasion by the nurse and Constance, the invalid finally was persuaded to let the little glass lie under his tongue. His task completed, Dr. Armstrong withdrew the tube and glanced at it.
“Dat medicine oin’t got much taste, boss,” announced the urchin, cheerfully, “but it soytenly done me lots of good.”
The doctor looked up at Constance with a pleasant smile. “There’s both the sense and the nonsense of the Christian Science idiocy,” he said; and half in response to his smile and half in nervous relief, Constance laughed merrily.
“I am glad for anything that makes him feel better,” she replied; then, colouring once more, she added, “and will you let me express my regret for my impulsive words a little while ago, and my thanks to you for relieving the suffering for which I am, to a certain extent, responsible?”
“There is no necessity for either, Miss Durant, though I am grateful for both,” he replied.
“Will there be much suffering?”
“Probably no more than ordinarily occurs in such simple fractures,” said the doctor; “and we’ll certainly do our best that there shall not be.”
“And may I see him to-morrow?”