"Fear not, you are in the hands of friends.
Phil, you stop bleating this minute." "Do drink it," said Bobbie, gently; "it'll do you good." So he drank.

And the three stood by without speaking to him.
"Let him be a minute," Peter whispered; "he'll be all right as soon as the milk begins to run like fire through his veins." He was.
"I'm better now," he announced.

"I remember all about it." He tried to move, but the movement ended in a groan.

"Bother! I believe I've broken my leg," he said.
"Did you tumble down ?" asked Phyllis, sniffing.
"Of course not--I'm not a kiddie," said the boy, indignantly; "it was one of those beastly wires tripped me up, and when I tried to get up again I couldn't stand, so I sat down.

Gee whillikins! it does hurt, though.