"Take mine," she said, and extended her hand.
Bones found a needle, and sterilized it in the flame of a spirit lamp.
"This won't hurt you," he quavered, and brought the point near the white, firm flesh. Then he drew it back again.
"This won't hurt you, dear old miss," he croaked, and repeated the performance.
He stood up and wiped his streaming brow.
"I haven't the heart to do it," he said dismally.
"A pretty fine doctor you are, Bones!" she scoffed, and took the needle from his hand. "There!"
Bones put the tiny crimson speck between his slides, blobbed a drop of oil on top, and focussed the microscope.
He looked for a long time, then turned a scared face to the girl.
"Sleepin' sickness, poor dear old Miss Hamilton!" he gasped. "You're simply full of tryps! Good Lord! What a blessin' for you I discovered it!"