that a Sark woman would not consent to use them. At any rate, there they
were not.

I stood for a few minutes, deep in thought. The daylight was going, and
it was useless to waste time; yet I found myself shrinking oddly from
the duty before me. Tardif could not help but see my chagrin and
hesitation.

"Doctor," he cried, "she is not going to die?"

"No, no," I answered, calling back my wandering thoughts and energies;
"there is not the smallest danger of that. I must go and set her arm at
once, and then she will sleep."

I returned to the room, and raised her as gently and painlessly as I
could, motioning to the old woman to sit beside her on the bed and hold
her steadily. I thought once of calling in Tardif to support her with
his strong frame, but I did not. She moaned, though very softly, when I
moved her, and she tried to smile again as her eyes met mine looking
anxiously at her. That smile made me feel like a child. If she did it
again, I knew my hands would be unsteady, and her pain would be tenfold
greater.

"I would rather you cried out or shouted," I said. "Don't try to control
yourself when I hurt you. You need not be afraid of seeming impatient,
and a loud scream or two would do you good."

But I knew quite well as I spoke that she would never scream aloud.
There was the self-control of culture about her. A woman of the lower
class might shriek and cry, but this girl would try to smile at the