"He won't live with only one leg, I know he won't, it will be too much
of a disgrace to him; he'll die of grief, I know he will! Oh, Doctor
Grant, you might have pity on him, it isn't fair!"
"Would you rather see him die in lingering pain?" enquired the doctor,
gravely.
"Oh, I think it so awful! Why should he be the one to be smashed up.
Look at me! I know everybody thinks it a pity it wasn't me. It would
have made us so much more equal. Why should I be so strong, and he so
weak! I tell you what! I've heard a story about joining on other men's
legs. Now tell me, could you do it? Could you give him one of mine? I'd
let you cut it off this minute--to-night, if you only would. If it would
make him walk straight!"
Dudley seized hold of the doctor's coat excitedly, and Doctor Grant saw
his whole soul was in his words.
"I'm afraid that would be an impossible feat, my boy. No--keep your own
legs to wait upon him, and cheer him up all you can."
"Cheer him up!" was the fierce retort; "what could cheer him! I know he
won't be able to live a cripple. He always says he is straight and
upright though his chest is weak, and now when he knows it's no use
trying to be strong any more, for he'll never be able to--when he knows
he won't be able to play cricket, or football, or even climb the wall or
run races--oh, it's awful--it will break his heart, and I wish I was
dead!" After which passionate speech Dudley dashed away, and the doctor
continued his walk shaking his head and muttering, "It's a bad lookout
for the little fellow!"
Dudley ran across the lawn in his misery, and then nearly tumbled over
Rob who was lying on the grass, his face hidden in his arms.
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