There was an anxious look on Mrs. Parlin's face. She was a faithful mother, and watched her children's conduct with the tenderest care.
But this lameness of which little Prudy complained, was something more than play; it was a sad truth, as the family learned very soon. Instead of walking properly when her mother bade her do so, the poor child cried bitterly, said it hurt her, and she was so tired she wished they would let her lie on the sofa, and never get up. At times she seemed better; and when everybody thought she was quite well, suddenly the pain and weakness would come again, and she could only limp, or walk by catching hold of chairs
At last her father called in a physician.
"How long has this child been lame?" said he.
"A month or more."
The doctor looked grave. "Has she ever had an injury, Mr. Parlin, such as slipping on the ice, or falling down stairs?"
"No, sir," replied Mr. Parlin, "I believe not."
"Not a serious injury that I know of," said Mrs. Parlin, passing her hand across her forehead, and trying to remember. "No, I think Prudy has never had a bad fall, though she is always meeting with slight accidents."
"O, mamma," said Susy, who had begged to stay in the room, "she did have a fall: don't you know, Christmas day, ever so long ago, how she went rolling down stairs with her little chair in her arms, and woke everybody up?"
The doctor caught at Susy's words.