“Lift up that damned long skirt o’ yours,” he said abruptly, referring to my red velvet train that I had been so proud of. I blushed and did so. “Now walk down again, and pray try not tae rock aboot like a ship at sea!”
His remark was intended to be jolly and I did my best not to cry. He must have seen that I was sensitive about my hobbling, for he said, “Aye, ye dinna walk sae badly, after all. I’ve known wurrse walkers amang the gentry themsel’s.” And that pleased me mightily!
But then he grew serious. “Come here,” he said. “Now what I’m going to dae may hurrt ye a wee bit; but ye’re tae be a brave lassie, an’ I knaw ye will. It’s a’ for the best, ye ken.”
He sat me down and told me to hold the arms of the chair tightly. Then he said that I was to watch the fingers of the big surgery
