"Say, but this is awful, Lanse! She was getting up a rattling good
dinner, too--been at it all day. Her one idea was to please you, your
first day at the shops. Been up to see her? Charlotte says I'd better
not go yet--nor Just. Just's all broken up, poor youngster! Says Celia
told him to go after the pickles, and he forgot it. If he'd gone she
wouldn't have got her tumble. What'll father and mother say? What are we
going to do, anyhow? Second Fiddle's no good on earth in the kitchen;
she couldn't boil an egg. Say, breaking your knee-pan's no joke. Price
Williston did it a year ago August, and he hasn't got good use of it
yet,--'fraid he never will----"

"Oh, let up on that,"--Lanse cut him short,--"and don't mention it again
to anybody. Doctor Forester and Churchill will fix her up all right,
only it's an awful shame it should have happened. I'm going up to see
Doctor Churchill."

At the foot of the stairs he met that person coming down, shook hands
with him eagerly, and listened to a brief and concise account of his
sister's injury. As it ended, Doctor Forester's automobile rolled up to
the door.

"Did the five and a half miles in precisely twenty minutes," said Doctor
Forester, as he came up the steps, watch in hand; "slow speed within
limits and all. Lanse, my boy, this is too bad. Doctor Churchill--very
glad to see you again. Decided to settle out here, eh? Well, on some
accounts I think you're wise. Charlotte, little girl, cheer up! There
are worse things than a fractured patella--I believe that's what you
called the injury, Doctor Churchill."

In such genial fashion the surgeon and old friend of the family made his