“Sir?”
“I said, What's the matter with your arm?”
“Which one?” Penrod quavered.
“Your left. You seem to be holding it at an unnatural position. Have you hurt it?”
Penrod swallowed. “Yes, sir. A boy bit me—I mean a dog—a dog bit me.”
Mr. Williams murmured sympathetically: “That's too bad! Where did he bite you?”
“On the—right on the elbow.”
“Good gracious! Perhaps you ought to have it cauterized.”
“Sir?”
“Did you have a doctor look at it?”