Doctor Ralph came back and sat down on the bed beside her. He had that rare sympathy which is the inestimable gift of the physician, and long years of practice had not yet calloused him so that a suffering fellow-mortal was merely a "case". His heart, was dangerously tender toward her.
"Lots of things are worse than broken ankles," he assured her. "Has it been so bad to be shut up here, away from Aunt Hitty?"
"No," said the truthful Araminta. "I have always been with Aunt Hitty, and it seems queer, but very nice. Someway, I feel as if I had grown up."
"Has Miss Evelina been good to you?"
"Oh, so good," returned Araminta, gratefully. "Why?"
"Because," said Ralph, concisely, "if she hadn't been, I'd break her neck."
"You couldn't," whispered Araminta, softly, "you're too kind. You wouldn't hurt anybody."
"Not unless I had to. Sometimes there has to be a little hurt to keep away a greater one."
"You hurt me, I think, but I didn't know just when. It was the smelly, sweet stuff, wasn't it?"
Ralph did not heed the question. He was wondering what would become of Araminta when she went back to Miss Mehitable's, as she soon must. Her ankle was healing nicely and in a very short time she would be able to walk again. He could not keep her there much longer. By a whimsical twist of his thought, he perceived that he was endeavouring to wrap Araminta in cotton wool of a different sort, to prevent Aunt Hitty from wrapping her in her own particular brand.
"The little cat," said Araminta, fondly. "I thought perhaps it would come to-day. Is it coming when I am well?"
"Holy Moses!" ejaculated Ralph. He had never thought of the kitten again, and the poor child had been waiting patiently, with never a word. The clear grey eyes were upon him, eloquent with belief.
"The little cat," replied Ralph, shamelessly perjuring himself, "was not old enough to leave its mother. We'll have to wait until to-morrow or next day. I was keeping it for a surprise; that's why I didn't say anything about it. I thought you'd forgotten."
"Oh, no! When I go back home, you know, I can't have it. Aunt Hitty would never let me."
"Won't she?" queried Ralph. "We'll see!"
He spoke with confidence he was far from feeling, and was dimly aware that Araminta had the faith he lacked. "She thinks I'm a wonder-worker," he said to himself, grimly, "and I've got to live up to it."
It was not necessary to count Araminta's pulse again, but Doctor Ralph took her hand--a childish, dimpled hand that nestled confidingly in his.