“Phwat!” cried Watty, forgetting his awe of the doctor in the horror of the announcement; “wad a man who was frost-bit lose her han’s or her foots?”
“Yes, if it were a bad case of freezing.”
“An’ wad her han’s or foots tummle off?”
“More likely the patient’s medical attendant would have to cut them off.”
“Coot her han’s an foots off? What wi’—chopper?”
“No,” said the doctor, smiling at the lad’s horrified looks; “they would be carefully taken off with a knife and saw. Surgeons are very careful.”
Watty groaned.
“It’s a’ ower wi’ her, Meester Stevey, an’ she’s ferry sorry she’s iver fote and ca’d her, for she’ll nivver see bonnie Scotland more.”
“Why not? What’s the matter with you, my lad?” said the doctor.
“She’s ferry pad, sir. Poth her foots an’ poth her han’s is frost-pitten.”