Showing How the Wild Beast Got Himself Back from the Mountains

Too Long; Didn't Read

About eleven o'clock on that night,—the night of the day on which Kate Vavasor's arm had been broken,—there came a gentle knock at Kate's bedroom door. There was nothing surprising in this, as of all the household Kate only was in bed. Her aunt was sitting at this time by her bedside, and the doctor, who had been summoned from Penrith and who had set her broken arm, was still in the house, talking over the accident with John Vavasor in the dining-room, before he proceeded back on his journey home. "She will do very well," said the doctor. "It's only a simple fracture. I'll see her the day after to-morrow." "Is it not odd that such an accident should come from a fall whilst walking?" asked Mr. Vavasor. The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "One never can say how anything may occur," said he. "I know a young woman who broke the os femoris by just kicking her cat;—at least, she said she did." "Indeed! I suppose you didn't take any trouble to inquire?"