"How can you laugh at broken bones, child?" said Mrs. Davilow, still under her dominant anxiety. "I wish we had never allowed you to have the horse. You will see that we were wrong," she added, looking with a grave nod at Mr. Gascoigne--"at least I was, to encourage her in asking for it."

"How can you laugh at broken bones, child?" said Mrs. Davilow. "I was wrong to encourage you in asking for that horse."
