CHAPTER VII
Hot water, the ballet-dancer's remedy for a sprain, does indeed work wonders. Doctors have been known to recommend cold water for this ailment. Charles Reade points out that the interest of the ballet-dancer is to expedite the cure, whereas the doctor's interest . . . But let us have no scandal about doctors. All we are at present concerned with is Jane's ankle, which cured itself "a perfect miracle," as Mrs. Doveton said, so that by the time the board was painted and dry, and the giver of the board notified of the new store of flowers that would be purchasable at Cedar Court, Jane was able to hobble to the gate to receive his congratulations.
"I never would 'a beleft it," said Mr. Simmons—did I say before that his name was Simmons? Anyhow, it was. "Never, I wouldn't. All the talk is as the old cove's loony, and now for him to do a sensible thing like that. It don't seem natural, do it?"
Mr. Simmons was very sympathetic about the sprained ankle. "You ain't 'ad a doctor?" he said. "No, and that's where you're wise. But you want something to cheer it up like, after all that hot sopping. Got any rosemary in either of your gardens? Nor rue either? You don't know? Well, well I I'll bring you a bit to-morrow. You mash it up well in boiling water, and strain off the liquor, and wet a rag with it and put on that foot o' yours. You'll be as right as ninepence in a couple of days."
They showed him the board and he admired and approved it. "I was afraid, being young ladies, you might have drawed
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