Horace opened his mouth in surprise, and then clapped his hands over it in dismay. It was not a very fortunate beginning.
"Look here, Grace," said he, making a wry face; "I move that we call that no 'count, and commence new to-morrow!"
So Grace waited till next day before she dated the merit book.
All this while Pincher's foot was growing no better. Aunt Louise said you could almost see the poor dog 'dwindle, peak, and pine.'
"But it's only his hurt," said Grace; "'tisn't a sickness."
"I reckon," returned Horace sadly, "it isn't a wellness, neither."
"Why not send for Mrs. Duffy?" suggested Aunt Madge. "If anyone can help the poor creature, it is she."
Mrs. Duffy was the village washerwoman, and a capital nurse. It was an anxious moment for little Horace when she unwrapped the crushed paw, Pincher moaning all the while in a way that went to the heart.
"Wull," said Mrs. Duffy, who spoke with a brogue, "it's a bad-looking fut; but I've some intment here that'll do no harrum, and it may hulp the poor craycher."
She put the salve on some clean linen cloths, and bound up the wound, bidding them all be very careful that the dog "didn't stir his fut."