"But that is fonny printing," she confessed.
Her next question surprised him afresh. "Can you cut?"
"Cut?" echoed Ralph, gaping a little. "You mean surgery? Yes."
"My mot'er, she break her arm," the girl explained. "I set it myself. I know that. After that I have to go away. She take off the—what do you call the sticks—?" She illustrated.
"Splints," put in Ralph.
"Yes, she take off the splints too soon, and try to work, and when I come home her arm is all crooked. All the time it grows more crookeder. She is so scare' she is sick. Can you fix it?" she asked anxiously.
"Surely!" said Ralph. "The arm must be broken again and reset."
"Broken again?" the girl said, with an alarmed look. "That hurt her bad. She not let you do that, I think. Can you put her to sleep?"
"Anæsthetic? Certainly!" said Ralph. "Where did you learn about anæsthetics?" he asked curiously.
"I have work in Prince George and Winnipeg three years," she said. "I know about a hospital."