"Let me tie it up," said Dick, shyly.
"Yes, do," said Tom. "Dick is our good boy. He always helps everybody else."
"But what can we tie it up with?" said Marjorie. "My handkerchief is all black from wiping off that potato."
"I,—I've got a clean one," and Dick, blushing with embarrassment, took a neatly folded white square from his pocket.
"Would you look at that!" said Tom. "I declare Dicky always has the right thing at the right time! Good for you, boy! Fix her up."
Quite deftly Dick wrapped the handkerchief round Marjorie's finger, and secured it with a bit of string from another pocket.
"You ought to have something on it," he said, gravely. "Kerosene is good, but as we haven't any, it will help it just to keep the air away from it, till you go home."
"Goodness!" exclaimed Midget. "You talk like a doctor."
"I'm going to be a doctor when I grow up," said Dick.
"He is," volunteered Harry; "he cured the cat's broken leg, and he mended a bird's wing once."