"Why, what's the matter, Margery?"
There was a pained expression on Margery's face and she was panting.
"I'm stung," she murmured.
Willie Jones did not have to ask "Where?" for the middle finger of one hand was already standing straight out, swollen and red.
"I'm awfully sorry, Margery, honest I am. Put some mud on it. That'll help some."
"I don't see any mud," Margery panted, looking hopelessly over the green meadow.
"Can't we make some quick enough?" Willie asked, digging his heel into the turf. "Now, Margery, spit on this. . . . Aw, that's not enough. Watch me."
By their united efforts they succeeded in mixing a mud plaster large enough to cover the wound.
"There now, does that feel better?"