that upon the particular bone that has been broken, the entire
existence pivots. And, in addition to the broken bone, by the time
that Miss Frederica had driven in from Coppinger's Court, there was
but little doubt that what Dr. Mangan called, lightly, "a touch of
pneumonia," would keep young Mr. Coppinger in Barty's room for a time
unspecified.

Miss Frederica drove home again in a seriously perturbed frame of
mind, and with indignation against the decrees of Providence hot
within her.

"I wired for a nurse for him!" she said to Lady Isabel, "I could not
plant myself upon them! It's all _most_ uncomfortable and
unavoidable. Of course they've been extremely kind--"

At the back of Miss Coppinger's mind was the wish, that she trampled
on whenever it stirred, that the Mangans had been less unexceptionally
kind and Good Samaritan-like. "Such an obligation!" she groaned;
"they've turned their own son out of the house to make room for Larry!
But oh, my dear Isabel, if you could imagine what the house is like!
The untidiness! The dirt! Of course they're unspeakably kind, and Dr.
Mangan is certainly very clever, and has managed Larry wonderfully,"
went on Frederica, repenting her of her evil speaking, "and I must say
I can't help liking Mrs. Mangan, but the girl--!" Miss Coppinger
shut her mouth so tightly that her lips became thin, white lines.
"Keep the door of your lips" was a text which she had in her youth
illuminated for herself. She often found that nothing save a sudden
and violent slam would keep that door shut, and, to do her justice,
the slams, when the conversation turned on the Mangan household, were
both frequent and violent.