“Is that the—what you said?” gasped Davie.
“Yes,—it’s th’ opedildoc.”
“Oh!” cried Davie, and his blue eyes shone, and he clasped his hands in bliss. He didn’t have to go home and tell Mamsie he couldn’t find Grandma’s things when she was sick and he had come to help.
“Now you go to the lowest drawer in th’ bureau,” said Grandma, “and get a roll of old white cotton, an’ I’ll tie up your thumb.”
David looked down at his thumb. He had forgotten all about it in the general turmoil.
“It doesn’t hurt any,” he said, “and I washed the blood off.”
“That may be,” said Grandma, who wasn’t going to lose what she dearly loved to do: bind up any wounds that presented themselves, “but a hurt is a hurt, and it’s got to be took care of. An’ there’s some blood a-comin’ yet.”
A tiny drop or two making its appearance to her satisfaction, she made David sit up on the bed again. And at last the little thumb was all bound up, and the cloth tied up with a bit of string she found in the little table-drawer by her bed.
“An’ now you must go right straight home—an’ you tell your ma she don’t need to tetch that bandage till to-morrow.”
“We haven’t driven out the hens,” said Peletiah, still standing by his broom.