Max was in the house. He visited the Abners every Friday, often participating in the Sabbath celebration and sharing the Sabbath meal. Max was somewhat of a handyman who did various chores for people, receiving small sums of money to take care of his meager needs. He was a short, disproportioned man of twenty-five who stuttered markedly. He always came with a smile, a story, and a few practical jokes. This day he came in with his usual question of eight-year-old Droozy: “Lllittle bb-bride, ddid you mmisbehave aggain?” This greatly annoyed Droozy and she tried hard to ignore it. She slid down the stairs, into the yard and onto Max’s shining blue bicycle. Round and round she rode, past the vegetable garden, the flowerbeds, past the lilac bushes, in front of the main house and back again around the smaller house, which her parents occupied. It was such joy sitting tall like a queen on the seat of the bicycle and being able to look down upon everything. Faster and faster the pedals rotated, making the big wheels go quicker and quicker. The wind was whipping Droozy’s hair about her neck and she took a deep breath, feeling just wonderful. She hoped Max would never come out of the house and never find her. Hardly had this thought occurred to her when Max’s tenor voice called:

 “Llittle bbbride where are you?” His short legs ran very fast toward Droozy, who pedaled faster and faster. In a split moment Max reached the bike, held unto the seat and insisted that she stop. Droozy refused, moving her legs more speedily. Max could hold on no longer and let go abruptly. The front of the bicycle turned in, Droozy lost her balance and fell to the ground with a thud, the cycle landing on her. The little girl felt a sharp pain in her arm and looking down she noticed that blood was spurting from her elbow. In the meantime Max disappeared and could not be found. After the first shriek Droozy lay quietly, realizing that she had disobeyed her parents, who had forbidden her to use the bicycle. Soon Mrs. Abner came out screaming and weeping at the sight of her fallen daughter. She attempted to help Droozy up but the child could not stand on her left leg; an agonizing pain would not permit this. Bleeding and bruised, she was carried up the stairs of the house, too guilty to weep. She comforted her parents, claiming all was well.

Several days passed and despite endless applications of warm earth and other healing ointments, Droozy could not walk. She tried hard to step on the ailing foot, but the pain was too unbearable.

For many weeks Droozy lay in bed, often quietly weeping to herself as she heard other children talking and playing outside. One day her father took her to a hospital in an adjoining city, only to learn that she had suffered a broken leg.