The doctor was sent for, the finger-end sewed on, and the hand bandaged.
“There aren’t many persons with a sewed-on finger tip, are there, mother?” asked John, with some pride.
“No, fortunately not,” replied Mother.
In the evening who should come to visit Father but the elderly, spectacled gentleman they had rowed to shore in the morning!
“Why, here are my small boatmen!” said the gentleman.
“Boatmen?” repeated Father, astonished.
“Yes. They rowed me ashore from the steamer.”
“Now, how pleasant that was, that they could be of service to you,” said Father.
What would Father think if he knew that they had taken money for rowing a person ashore? Oh, dear! That had been wrong then. Johnny Blossom sat doubled together, scowling fiercely, as was his habit when he was worried about anything. That miserable five cents—why had they taken it?