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Show in my father's house/ 228 "What is it, Daddy?" I asked as he unrolled cotton. "It's a sticky bandage - like an Ace bandage. It will do just as well." I looked at my bowed arm, my dangling wrist, the bones protruding against the skin. "But Daddy, will it hold my bones in place? It's so soft! What if I fall down again?" He looked sharply at me. "I don't know about a little girl who thinks she knows more than her daddy. Now..." he said, reaching for my arm. "What are you going to do?" I shrank away holding my good arm out, my body twisting in fear. Shame blazed through me. "I'm going to set your arm," he said impatiently. "Come now, I haven't much time." "Will it hurt?" He shook his head slightly, fumbling in his grip. "Have you ever had a broken arm?" He nodded. "When I was about your age, a little younger. My father set it for me, and he wasn't even a doctor. It healed fine, and I wasn't silly about it, either." "But will it hurt?" "Nothing you can't take." I let him take my dangling hand. His long cool fingers lifted ny arm. I felt beads of sweat spring onto my forehead and upper Lip. He jerked and my broken bones ground together. I felt my syes rolling back into my head, into a red-speckled sea going >lack. Next morning, I awakened to the ringing of the telephone |