nurse you'd better get to work on me before I faint!" cried Bart. "Now don't talk any more, that's a good girl. Get a rag before I bleed to death."
"Oh, Bart, I'm so sorry! Of course I'll fix you up. Wait until I get my book," and Alice, whose ambition was to be a nurse and wear a blue and white striped uniform, hurried to her room and came back with a little book. On the cover was a red cross, and the inscription, "First Aid to the Injured."
"What kind of a wound is it, Bart?" Alice asked, rapidly turning the leaves of the volume.
"How should I know? It's a painful wound, if that's what you mean."
"Oh, no! Is it incised or lacerated or a contused one? Because you see I have to give it different kind of treatment if it's an incised wound than I would if it's a lacerated one."
"Oh, give me any kind of treatment!" and Bart began to dance around again. "The shot grazed my fingers, that's all I know!"
"I guess that's a lacerated wound," Alice replied a little doubtfully, as she took a look at her brother's bleeding hand. Then she turned to the page of the book that treated of lacerated hurts and read:
