"John! Oh, my poor Jack! We never knew—is it so bad?"
"Yes, imagine a toothache in your elbow with a variety of torments in the whole arm."
"I can't imagine. I never had a toothache—in fact, I hardly know the sensation of serious pain."
"Well, I broke down under it, Leila. I became depressed and quite foolishly hopeless. Some day I will tell you what helped me out of a morass of melancholy."
"Tell me now."
"No, I must go to bed. I am getting better and will get off with a stiff elbow, so Tom says. At first they talked of amputation. That was awful. Good-night!"
It was none too soon. She was still unsure of herself, and although no word of tender approach had disturbed her as he talked, and she was glad of that, the tense look of pain, the reserve of his hospital confession of suffering nearly broke down her guarded attitude. As he passed out of view at the turn of the stairs, she murmured, "Oh, if only Uncle Jim were well."
Josiah came at the call of the bell. She detained him. She asked, "How was the Captain wounded? No one wrote of how it happened."
"Well, missy, he would ride a horse called Hoodoo—it was just the bad luck of that brute done it." Josiah's account was graphic and clear enough. John Penhallow's character lost nothing as interpreted by Josiah.
"It was a dangerous errand, I suppose."