THE WOOD-CARVING CLASS
at Kipps' face for a moment, became involved in a Laocoon struggle with a giggle.
"You've cut your wrist," said one of the girl friends, standing up and pointing. She was a pleasant-faced, greatly freckled girl, with a helpful disposition, and she said "You've cut your wrist," as brightly as if she had been a trained nurse.
Kipps looked down, and saw a swift line of scarlet rush down his hand. He perceived the other man student regarding this with magnified eyes. "You have cut your wrist," said Miss Walshingham, and Kipps regarded his damage with greater interest.
"He's cut his wrist," said the maiden lady to the lodging-house keeper, and seemed in doubt what a lady should do. "It's—" she hesitated at the word "bleeding," and nodded to the lodging-house keeper instead.
"Dreadfully," said the maiden lady, and tried to look and tried not to look at the same time.
"Of course he's cut his wrist," said the lodging-house keeper, momentarily quite annoyed at Kipps; and the other young lady, who thought Kipps rather common, went on quietly with her wood-cutting with an air of its being the proper thing to do—though nobody else seemed to know it.
"You must tie it up," said Miss Walshingham.
"We must tie it up," said the freckled girl.
"I 'adn't the slightest idea that window was going to break like that," said Kipps, with candour. "Nort the slightest."
He glanced again at the blood on his wrist, and it seemed to him that it was on the very point of drop-
