"You've got enough rags on here to make my hand look as big as my head," objected the boy, as he gazed at the bandage his sister had adjusted.
"You don't want to catch cold in it," she replied. "It is very chilly to-day. I think we're going to have more snow."
"Ought to have some, with Thanksgiving here in about a week," replied Bart.
"How did you get hurt?" asked his sister again.
"I was examining my new shotgun. It just came—Hark! Who's that calling?"
"Oh, some of the boys I s'pose," and Alice went to the window and looked down to the street, whence came a series of shrill whistles.
"Raise the window and I'll yell to 'em to come up," said Bart.
"Don't you come near this window," commanded Alice. "You forget you're under treatment. If you should catch cold in that hand it might be terrible! I'll call the boys. You go back in that corner."
Then, as Bart meekly obeyed, Alice raised the sash and called:
"Come up, boys! Bart is hurt and can't come down!"
"They'll think I'm in bed," her brother objected.
