He could not help
feeling that Winifred was laying it on rather. Surely the knee itself
wasn't hurt! Surely not. It was only a surface cut.
The doctor was out. Egbert left the message and came cycling swiftly
home, his heart pinched with anxiety. He dropped sweating off his bicycle
and went into the house, looking rather small, like a man who is at
fault. Winifred was upstairs sitting by Joyce, who was looking pale and
important in bed, and was eating some tapioca pudding. The pale, small,
scared face of his child went to Egbert's heart.
'Doctor Wing was out. He'll be here about half past two,' said Egbert.
'I don't want him to come,' whimpered Joyce.
'Joyce, dear, you must be patient and quiet,' said Winifred. 'He won't
hurt you. But he will tell us what to do to make your knee better
quickly. That is why he must come.'
Winifred always explained carefully to her little girls: and it always
took the words off their lips for the moment.
'Does it bleed yet?' said Egbert.
Winifred moved the bedclothes carefully aside.
'I think not,' she said.
Egbert stooped also to look.
'No, it doesn't,' she said. Then he stood up with a relieved look on his
face. He turned to the child.
'Eat your pudding, Joyce,' he said. 'It won't be anything. You've only
got to keep still for a few days.'
'You haven't had your dinner, have you, Daddy?'
'Not yet.'
'Nurse will give it to you,' said Winifred.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38