You've no business to wear such small ones.' He had heard from Maude that Ann Eliza was very proud of her feet, and always wore boots too small for them, and he experienced a savage satisfaction in knowing that she was paying for her foolishness.

This was not very kind in Tom, but he was not a kind-hearted man, and he held the whole Peterkin tribe, as he called them, in such contempt that he would scarcely have cared if the tired little feet, boots and all, had dropped off, provided it did not add to his discomfort.

They were out of the woods and park by this time, and had struck into a field as a shorter route to Le Bateau.

But the way was rough and stony, and Tom had stumbled himself two or three times and almost fallen, when a sharp, loud cry from Ann Eliza smote his ear, and he felt that she was sinking to the ground.
His first impulse was to drag her on, but that would have been too brutal, and stopping short he asked what was the matter.
'Oh, I don't know.

I guess I've sprained my ankle.