“Thank you, Adelaide.” The boy spoke with an accent of maturity that may come at any age, with a real emotion.
“Don’t be silly, dear,” Adelaide replied. And then she added: “How did it happen, brother?”
“I don’t know.”
The girl smiled, actually as if she understood.
“Perhaps you were running too fast, eh?”
Quincy looked sharp.
“Did you ever run in the woods?” he asked with ill-concealed excitement.
“Yes, indeed,” she confessed.
Quincy was silent. Adelaide drew a clean stocking over the bandaged foot, and then, a hand-knitted, crimson slipper.
“See if that’s comfy, now,” she said.