Bob sat with his thumb in the ice-water, and felt the ache gradually lessen until Elizabeth came down again with witch-hazel and a strip of bandage.
"Now I will wrap you up good. It is a little better, yes? Oh, it will not be so bad."
"You're a brick, Elizabeth. What should I have done without you?" said Bob gratefully, looking at the little German woman's eager, sympathetic face and feeling her nimble, gentle hands as they wrapped up his sore thumb in a cool, wet covering.
Elizabeth laughed, fastening the tail of the bandage about his wrist. "Oh, Mr. Bob, how you used to get mad at me when I tell you to wash your hands! You remember?"
"Don't I, though? Wasn't I a bad little kid! William is a lot better."
"You were not bad at all," said Elizabeth quickly. "Your mother has not one bad child got, but boys are always plenty of trouble. I not forget, though, when I was so long sick at Leavenworth, how you came and sat with me, and stayed in from your play when I was all alone, while I told you little stories of old Germany." She looked up at Bob with eyes full of affection, as though she still saw in the tall young officer before her the kind little boy she had known.
"Did I, Elizabeth?" asked Bob, smiling. "Thanks ever so much for fixing me up," he added as he examined the neat bandage with approving eyes. "I declare, it feels nearly all right again."
Bob went back to the dining-room. Then, hearing voices from his father's study, he went there and found Karl bowing and departing after a conversation with Major Gordon.
"Hello, Dad, I didn't know you were here," he said, sitting down near his father's desk.