git him in," she cautioned, snatching up a bundle of rags and a
bottle of liniment. "Pore chile! How it must hurt him! I'll run
down the track an' meet 'em."

She was breathless and trembling from excitement as she turned the
corner at Mrs. Schultz's. A crowd of boys were coming up the track,
trundling a wheelbarrow, in which sat Chris Hazy, the merriest of
the lot, waving a piece of his wooden leg in the air.

Mrs. Wiggs turned upon Billy;

"I never lied, ma! I said he broke his leg," the boy gasped out as
best be could for laughing, "an' you never ast which one. Oh, boys!
Git on to the rags an' arniky!"

Such a shout went up that Mrs. Wiggs laughed with the rest, but only
for a moment, for she spied Miss Hazy tottering toward them, and she
hastened forward to relieve her anxiety.

"It's his peg-stick!" she shouted. "P-e-g-stick!"

This information, instead of bringing relief to Miss Hazy, caused a
fresh burst of tears. She sat down on the track, with her apron over
her face, and swayed backward and forward.

"Don't make much difference which one 't was," she sobbed; "it would
be 'bout as easy to git another sure-'nough leg as to git a new
wooden one. That las' one cost seven dollars. I jes' sewed an' saved
an' scrimped to git it, an' now it's--busted!"