The first morning that Sally came downstairs—on crutches—she managed her crutches unskillfully and fell half the flight. Uncle John and Cousin Patty, followed closely by Charlie, hurried to her. Uncle John was the most alarmed. He stooped and would have raised her head, but Sally saved him that trouble and smiled at him.
"I'm not hurt one mite," she said. She was not. "Wasn't I lucky?"
He gave a great sigh of relief.
"I was afraid," he replied. "I'm thankful that you're not. Are you sure, Sally?" he asked anxiously.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure." And, to convince him, Sally jumped up, nimbly, and hopped about on one foot.
Uncle John smiled. "It isn't very wise to try such experiments. Now, you're to sit beside me at the table, hereafter. We can't risk that foot, for it would be more of a misfortune to our Sally and to us if anything serious happened to it than she realizes."
Sally had noted the way he spoke of "our Sally"; it was affectionate, genuinely so. There could not be the least doubt about it.
"Now," he continued, "you will please to take my arm."
"Oh, father," remonstrated Miss Patty, "is it safe?"
"Quite safe, Patty," he returned quietly, "and I wish it."