said Dudley, stopping his sobs for a minute; "I don't see it was
his fault; it was the stupid pony; he funked it, and then fell and broke
his knees; mine went over all right. Oh, why didn't it happen to me! If
I had been spilled, I wouldn't have minded, and one leg wouldn't have
been half so bad to me as to Roy!"

"I reckon you'd have got your leg all right again without having to lose
it. 'Tis the laddie's delicate constitution that is so in his way. But I
think you'll find Master Roy as plucky over the loss of his leg as he
ever was. Now lift your heart up to God and ask Him that he may overrule
it all for good. There goes the shop-bell!"

Old Principle disappeared, and Dudley soothed and comforted by his
sympathy, retraced his steps to the house.

Meanwhile Miss Bertram had been going through the trying ordeal of
breaking the news to the little invalid.

Roy was lying in bed, flushed and restless. His eyes looked unnaturally
large and bright, as he met his aunt's anxious gaze.

"I'm so tired of pain, Aunt Judy, and I can't get to sleep."

Miss Bertram sat down and smiled her brightest smile.

Taking his thin little hand in hers she said tenderly,

"Yes, dear, you've been a brave little patient, but I hope you won't
have much more to bear. You would like to be free from it, wouldn't
you?"

"Am I going to die?"

"We hope you're going to get quite well again, if God wills, and if you
will be a good boy and let the doctor cure you."

Roy's eyes were fixed intently on his aunt now.

"How are they going to cure me?"

Then Miss Bertram nerved herself for the occasion.

"Roy, dear, you have been so patient since you lay here, that I know you
will be patient over this. Doctor Grant says that your leg will never
heal as it is, but he is sure you will get well and strong again if--if
you will make up your mind to do without it."

"Does that mean he is going to cut it off?"

"Yes."

Dead silence, broken only by the flapping of the window-curtains in the
breeze. Roy was not looking at his aunt now, but his eyes were fixed on
the distant hills through the open window. A blackbird now hovering on
some jasmine outside, suddenly lifted up his voice and burst into an
exultant song. A faint smile flickered about Roy's lips.

"Do legs _never_ grow again like teeth?"

The pathos of tone saved Miss Bertram from smiling at the comicality of
the question.

"I'm afraid not, dear. Not until we reach heaven."

Then t