Had he hopped? she asked brutally.

No, he said; he had shuffled along.  Half rising, he attempted to show her humourously how he walked nowadays—­tried not to wince, but had to.  Ugh, that was a twinge!  Grizel sarcastically offered her assistance, and he took her shoulder gratefully.  They crossed the room—­a tedious journey.  “Now let me see if you can manage alone,” she says, and suddenly deserts him.

He looked rather helplessly across the room.  Few sights are so pathetic as the strong man of yesterday feeling that the chair by the fire is a distant object to-day.  Tommy knew how pathetic it was, but Grizel did not seem to know.

“Try it,” she said encouragingly; “it will do you good.”

[Illustration:  And clung to it, his teeth set.]

He got as far as the table, and clung to it, his teeth set.  Grizel clapped her hands.  “Excellently done!” she said, with fell meaning, and recommended him to move up and down the room for a little; he would feel ever so much the better for it afterwards.

The pain—­was—­considerable, he said.  Oh, she saw that, but he had already proved himself so good at bearing pain, and the new school of surgeons held that it was wise to exercise an injured limb.

Even then it was not a reproachful glance that Tommy gave her, though there was some sadness in it.  He moved across the room several times, a groan occasionally escaping him.  “Admirable!” said his critic.  “Bravo!  Would you like to stop now?”

“Not until you tell me to,” he said determinedly, but with a gasp.

“It must be dreadfully painful,” she replied coldly, “but I should like you to go on.”  And he went on until suddenly he seemed to have lost the power to lift his feet.  His body swayed; there was an appealing look on his face.  “Don’t be afraid; you won’t fall,” said Grizel.  But she had scarcely said it when he fainted dead away, and went down at her feet.

“Oh, how dare you!” she cried in sudden flame, and she drew back from him.  But after a moment she knew that he was shamming no longer—­or she knew it and yet could not quite believe it; for, hurrying out of the room for water, she had no sooner passed the door than she swiftly put back her head as if to catch him unawares; but he lay motionless.

The sight of her dear brother on the floor paralyzed Elspeth, who could only weep for him, and call to him to look at her and speak to her.  But in such an emergency Grizel was as useful as any doctor, and by the time Gemmell arrived in haste the invalid was being brought to.  The doctor was a practical man who did not ask questions while there was something better to do.  Had he asked any as he came in, Grizel would certainly have said:  “He wanted to faint to make me believe he really has a bad ankle, and somehow he managed to do it.”  And if the doctor had replied that people can’t faint by wishing, she would have said that he did not know Mr. Sandys.