“Nothing,” she answered, but he saw her pull a handkerchief out of her pocket and wrap her hand in it.
“Let me see!” he commanded.
“Really it’s nothing,” she protested; “only a splinter from those boards. I should have known better.”
Well, splinters ought to be taken out, lest they fester; and it was the most natural thing in the world for Jerry to insist upon performing the operation. She fetched a needle, and he burned the point in the flame of a match, and grasped her injured hand firmly.
He hadn’t realized what it would mean. The splinter was long and deeply embedded, and he could not help hurting her. She winced and bit her lip. When at last the heartbreaking job was done, his face was quite pale. He still held her hand, and was looking at her with the most miserable contrition; but she smiled.
“You mustn’t be so silly!” she said. “It’s really—”
“Lynn!” said an awful voice.
Lynn, suddenly growing very red, escaped at once, and Jerry saw her no more that day.
He would perfectly well endure being called a plumber, a carpenter, and a chance acquaintance, but he could not endure this. He no longer wished to laugh, he no longer[Pg 175] saw this thing as a joke. On the contrary, he was immeasurably offended by the suspicious and scornful glare he got from the portly, white-haired lady.