The things we do!

Freckles unlocked his case, and taking out some cotton cloth, he tore it
in strips. Then he brought a bucket of the cleanest water he could find.
She yielded herself to his touch as a baby, and he bathed away the blood
and bandaged the ugly, ragged wound. He finished his surgery by lapping
the torn sleeve over the cloth and binding it down with a piece of
twine, with the Angel's help about the knots.
Freckles worked with trembling fingers and a face tense with
earnestness.
"Is it feeling any better?" he asked.
"Oh, it's well now!" cried the Angel. "It doesn't hurt at all, any
more."
"I'm mighty glad," said Freckles. "But you had best go and be having
your doctor fix it right; the minute you get home."
"Oh, bother! A little scratch like that!" jeered the Angel. "My blood is
perfectly pure. It will heal in three days."
"It's cut cruel deep. It might be making a scar," faltered Freckles, his
eyes on the ground. "'Twould--'twould be an awful pity. A doctor might
know something to prevent it."
"Why, I never thought of that!" exclaimed the Angel.


Pages:
107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131