They hadn’t noticed in their excitement that a little boy had been wounded with the powder from the shot, and felt mortified when two members of the girls’ class followed them into the tent with the little patient.
Miss Helpem sent for Doctor Quickenquack, who set the big boy’s broken arm and treated the little fellow’s powder wounds.
“The worst of it is, young man,” said the doctor to the big boy, as he set the arm, “that not all the punishment came to yourself. If these powder wounds become serious for that youngster, you will be blamed.”
“I didn’t realize, Doctor,” replied the young man. “I’ll never need any further lesson—after all this, and after I pay my fine.”
The other “case” was a lady who fainted when she saw the accident, and was quickly revived in the tent.
“I really believe that this is the best Fourth of July celebration our town has ever known, Doctor,” said the Mayor, complimenting Doctor Surecure upon the success of the day. “‘A sane Fourth’ as you said, will give more pleasure, if people will co-operate, than all the din of firecrackers and thunder of powder. I’m sure we owe you and your able first-aid classes our vote of thanks.”
“Miss Helpem deserves all the credit for the first-aid help,” replied the doctor.
“Indeed no, thank you, Doctor,” laughed Mary Frances Helpem, coming up at that moment. “To the boys and girls of the classes belongs that praise.”