“Well, you can be my nurse, and cuddle my patients when I have given them the physic and cut off their legs,” said Nan, whose practice was evidently to be of the heroic kind.
“Ship ahoy! Where are you, Nan?” called a voice from below.
“Ay, ay!” said the voice, and Emil appeared holding one hand in the other, with his face puckered up as if in pain.
“Oh, what’s the matter?” cried Daisy, anxiously.
“A confounded splinter in my thumb. Can’t get it out. Take a pick at it, will you, Nanny?”
“It’s in very deep, and I haven’t any needle,” said Nan, examining a tarry thumb with interest.
“No, it’s too big and hasn’t got a sharp point.”
Here Daisy, who had dived into her pocket, presented a neat little housewife with four needles in it.
“You are the Posy who always has what we want,” said Emil; and Nan resolved to have a needle-book in her own pocket henceforth, for just such cases as this were always occurring in her practice.
Daisy covered her eyes, but Nan probed and picked with a steady hand, while Emil gave directions not down in any medical work or record.
“Starboard now! Steady, boys, steady! Try another tack. Heave ho! there she is!”
“Suck it,” ordered the Doctor, surveying the splinter with an experienced eye.
“Too dirty,” responded the patient, shaking his bleeding hand.
“Wait; I’ll tie it up if you have got a handkerchief.”
“Haven’t; take one of those rags down there.”
“Gracious! no, indeed; they are dolls’ clothes,” cried Daisy, indignantly.
“Take one of mine; I’d like to have you,” said Nan; and swinging himself down, Emil caught up the first “rag” he saw. It happened to be the frilled skirt; but Nan tore it up without a murmur; and when the royal petticoat was turned into a neat little bandage, she dismissed her patient with the command--
“Keep it wet, and let it alone; then it will heal right up, and not be sore.”
“What do you charge?” asked the Commodore, laughing.
“Nothing; I keep a ’spensary; that is a place where poor people are doctored free gratis for nothing,” explained Nan, with an air.
“Thank you, Doctor Giddy-gaddy. I’ll always call you in when I come to grief;” and Emil departed, but looked back to say--for one good turn deserved another--“Your duds are blowing away, Doctor.”