“I reckon thar’s right smart of shakes outen the shed.”
“Will you get me some?”
The man disappeared.
After a search she found in the corner an old, faded calico dress which was quite clean.
“This will do for binding,” she said, looking at the women. “You don’t mind if I use it?”
“’T’ain’t no account noways.”
“All right. Thanks.”
She was obliged to hurt Bud severely while getting the bone in place and binding it, but the boy uttered never a groan.
By the time this task was completed, finding herself quite shaky and weak, Florence somehow made her way to a splint-bottomed chair by the fire. Fresh fuel had been put on. In spite of the deluge of water that now and again came dashing down the chimney, the fire burned brightly. The thunder storm was now in full progress. Florence was surprised at noting this.
So preoccupied had she been with her errands of mercy that she had neither heard nor seen anything of it until this moment.