KIPPS
ping on the floor of that cultured classroom. So he very neatly licked it off, feeling at the same time for his handkerchief. "Oh, don't!" said Miss Walshingham as he did so, and the girl with the freckles made a movement of horror. The giggle got the better of the boy with the gift, and celebrated its triumph by unseemly noises; in spite of which it seemed to Kipps at the moment that the act that had made Miss Walshingham say "Oh, don't!" was rather a desperate and manly treatment of what was after all a creditable injury.
"It ought to be tied up," said the lodging-house keeper, holding her chisel upright in her hand. "It's a bad cut to bleed like that."
"We must tie it up," said the freckled girl, and hesitated in front of Kipps. "Have you got a handkerchief?" she said.
"I dunno 'ow I managed not to bring one," said Kipps. "I—not 'aving a cold I suppose some 'ow I didn't think———"
He checked a further flow of blood.
The girl with the freckles caught Miss Walshingham's eye, and held it for a moment. Both glanced at Kipp's injury. The boy with the gift, who had reappeared with a chastened expression from some noisy pursuit beneath his desk, made the neglected motions of one who proffers shyly. Miss Walshingham under the spell of the freckled girl's eye produced a handkerchief. The voice of the maiden lady could be heard in the background. "I've been through all the technical education ambulance classes twice, and I know you go so if it's a vein, and so if it's
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