few moments.

"How are you, Dolly?" said the child, marching in and standing by the
bedside with the air of a Royal Messenger.

"I'm pretty good," and Dolly smiled wanly at her little visitor. "How's
Dotty?"

"Dotty's awful. But she'll be better when she knows how you are. So tell
me zactly."

"Well, tell Dotty my right leg is broken. One of the bones just above
the ankle. But tell her except for that, I'm all right and for her not
to worry about me and we'll see who can get well first. And give her my
love and--and--oh, that's all, good-bye, Genie!"

The little girl ran out of the room and as soon as she disappeared Dolly
burst into floods of weeping. That was her way of relieving her
overburdened nerves instead of screaming hysterically like Dotty.

Trudy tried to soothe her, but there was no staying the torrent of
tears, until at last they stopped because Dolly was exhausted.

"There," said Mrs. Fayre brightly as she wiped Dolly's eyes, "I'm just
glad you did that! There's nothing like a good cry to straighten things
out. Now I shouldn't be one bit surprised if you could take a nice
little nap." And Dolly did so.

Meantime Genie trotted home with her comforting news for Dotty.

"Dolly's all right," she announced. "'Cept one leg is broked. But that's
all. Only just one bone of one leg. And she says to see who'll get well
first."

"How did she look?" asked Dotty eagerly.

"Like a angel," replied Genie, enthusiastically. "Her face was all white
and her eyes were so blue and her hair was all goldy and braided in two
curly braids tickling around her ears. Oh, she looked lovely! Heaps
better than you do, Dot. Your face is all red and splotchy, and your
eyes are as big as saucers and your hair looks like the dickens."

"I don't care," said Dotty, crossly; "I don't care how I look."

"But I care how you feel," said her mother, "and now you know that Dolly
is very much alive, I'm sure you'll let nurse bathe your face and brush
your hair and then I'm going to sing you to sleep."

* * * * *

As is usual in case of broken bones the first night proved a very trying
time for all concerned.

Dolly Fayre, though an unusually patient child, felt as if she could not
bear the pain and discomfort of her strapped and splinted leg. Her
mother and Trudy, and her father too, did all they could to alleviate
her sufferings, but the uncontrollable tears welled up in the blue eyes
and rolled ov