“My ankle!” she cried; and the effort of speaking brought the sudden flush of pain to her brow.
“Oh! what can I do?”
“The boot! the boot!” she said, leaning forward to unlace it, and then sinking back against the bank. “It is so painful. I hope I sha'n't faint!”
Poor Tom could only clasp his hands as he knelt by her, and repeat, “Oh, what can I do—what can I do?” His utter bewilderment presently aroused Mary, and her natural high courage was beginning to master the pain.
“Have you a knife?”
“Yes here,” he said, pulling one out of his pocket, and opening it; “here it is.”
“Please cut the lace.”
Tom, with beating heart and trembling hand, cut the lace and then looked up at her.
“Oh, be quick—cut it again! Don't be afraid.”
He cut it again; and, without taking hold of the foot, gently pulled out the ends of the lace.