Very tenderly the doctor took him on his knee, and examined the little foot. "I'll have a basin of water, Pearl, please," he said.
"It has been washed," Danny cried, with indignation. "Pearl washed both of them."
"Sure enough," the doctor said, "but you just watch and see what I am going to do."
The doctor opened his black bag to get out a lance, the sight of which was too much for Danny's reserve of courage, and in spite of his brave efforts, the tears burst forth.
The doctor laid the lance back in the bag, and said, "Now Danny, I am going to tell you a real true story, and we won't touch your foot at all, unless you ask me to.
"There's a bad, bold sliver about this long, that ran into Danny Watson's foot. No one asked the sliver to go in—no one wanted it—but it went. Danny's foot does not like it—and every nerve is crying 'Pull it out—pull it out,' and the blood has gathered round to see what's wrong, just like a crowd of people on the street, growing bigger every minute, so Danny's foot is beginning to swell and get red and hot.
"Now, if we leave the sliver alone, the foot will get it out its own way, but it will take a long time. The foot will get redder, hotter, sorer. It will be very stiff, and Danny will not be able to walk on it. And even after the sliver works out, it will take quite a while to heal, and there may be an ugly mark here for a long time. Still, that's one way to get rid of slivers.
"There's another way. It is to let me cut the skin with this sharp knife—sharp like a razor-blade—and then take these little tweezers, catch the end of the sliver, and give one quick jerk. Then we'll put your foot in the warm water and let all the blood that has been gathering to see what was wrong, run away, and then we'll put on something nice and soft, and some absorbent cotton, and make a fine bandage, and about tomorrow it will be as good as the other one.
"Which way will we do it, Danny?"
Danny had followed every word of the story, his eyes meeting the doctor's calmly.