It was Joy.

She lay perfectly still.
A horrible fear came over Gypsy.

She crept up on her hands and knees, trying to see her lace through the dark, and just then Joy moaned faintly.

Gypsy's heart gave a great thump.

In that moment, in the moment of that horrible fear and that great relief, Gypsy knew for the first time that she loved Joy, and how much.
"It's my ankle," moaned Joy; "it must be broken--I know it's broken." It was not broken, but very badly sprained.
"Can you stand on it ?" asked Gypsy, her face almost as pale as Joy's.
Joy tried to get to her feet, but fell heavily, with a cry of pain.
Gypsy looked around her with dismay.