Page:The little blue devil (IA littlebluedevil00mackiala).pdf/73

“What has happened? Will you tell me what has happened?”

(It was slightly tremulous and much lower than he had meant to speak; however, she had heard. She went straight to the point too, this lady who belonged—that was something.)

“You were knocked down by an automobile. You were crossing the street, and somehow it ran into you. It was my husband’s car and he was nearly home, so he brought you in here, and the doctor has just been fixing you.”

“Where am I hurt?” (He really couldn’t be polite. It was disgustingly difficult to speak at all.)

“It’s your leg—the thigh is broken; but they’ve set it now, and it won’t hurt so much by and by.”

“Is it badly smashed?”

“Yes, pretty bad. Don’t talk any more now.”

“How long will it take to mend?”

“I don’t know exactly—some weeks. You mustn’t worry about that now. And don’t talk any more—it’s all right.”

(So she was a stupid sort of woman, after all. What was the sense of saying it was all right when everything was as wrong as possible?) The hoarse little voice persisted.

“If it’s a bad break it will take a long time to mend. I can’t stay here. You must let me go away, please.”

“My dear little boy, you can’t go away. Your leg is broken, and there is nothing for it but to lie still.”

“I can go to a hospital. If your husband hadn’t brought me here I should have been taken to a hospital. I’d much rather be there. Please let me go.”

“Listen, my boy! Don’t you see that it was my husband’s fault that you’ve been hurt like this? Since it was his car