But he snatched her hand peremptorily, before she could draw it away, and held it firmly and examined it.
"Why, there's a bit still there; I can see it."
"I can get it out for myself," said she.
"No, you cannot," he answered. "'Tis far easier for some one else. Stay here a second, and I will fetch out a needle."
He went into the cottage, and presently reappeared, not only with a needle, but also a tin vessel holding water, and a bit of linen and a piece of thread. Then he took Judith's soft hand as gently as he could in his muscular fingers, and began to probe for the small fragment of wood, just visible there. He seemed a long time about it; perhaps he was afraid of giving her pain.
"Do I hurt you, Judith?" he said.
"No," she answered, with some color of embarrassment in her face. "Be quick."
"But I must be cautious," said he. "I would it were my own hand; I would make short work of it."
"Let me try myself," said she, attempting to get away her hand from his grasp.
But he would not allow that; and in due time he managed to get the splinter out. Then he dipped his fingers in the water and bathed the small wound in that way; and then he must needs wrap the piece of linen round her hand—very carefully, so that there should be no crease—and thereafter fasten the bandage with the bit of thread. He did not look like one who could perform a surgical operation with exceeding delicacy; but he was as gentle as he could be, and she thanked him—in an unwilling kind of way.