Sam yelled in anguish at the thought.
“Don’t you dare try it!”
“Never mind Tommy. She is just a little savage,” chuckled Harriet. “Neither Miss Elting nor I would give you the slightest unnecessary pain.”
“That sounds very well, Harriet. I fear, however, that I shall have to give Sam quite a little pain,” said the guardian.
“What are you going to do?” cried Sam.
“First straighten your nose, then bolster it so it will stay straight.”
“Shall I get the tent pole?” asked Dill eagerly.
“Don’t wear out my patience, fellows,” warned Sam. “I’m a wounded man, I’m a desperate man and I’m not wholly responsible for what I say or do. Are—are you going to twist it, Miss Elting?”
“I shouldn’t call it that. I am going to shape it, to mould it, restore it to its natural shape as nearly as I can, then secure it there with adhesive plaster.”
“Yeth, that ith the way,” agreed Tommy, nodding eagerly. “Let me help you, Mith Elting.”