Not a blemish marked its fair surface, yet--was it very slightly
swollen? She could hardly be sure.
"Dear, tell me," she begged. "What has happened? Are you hurt--or
ill--and haven't let me know?"
"I thought it might not amount to anything; it's only a scratch in the
palm. But--"
"Red--did you get it--operating? On what?"
He nodded. "Operating. It's the usual way, the thing we all expect to
get some day. I've been lucky so far; that's all."
"But--you didn't give yourself a scratch; you never have done that?"
"No, not up to date anyhow. I might easily enough; I just haven't
happened to."
"Amy didn't?--She couldn't!"
"She didn't--and couldn't, thank heaven. She'd kill herself if she ever
did that unlucky trick. No, she wasn't assisting this time. It was an
emergency case, early yesterday morning--one of the other men brought in
the case. It was hopeless, but the family wanted us to try."
"What sort of a case, Red?" Ellen's very lips had grown white.
"Now see here, sweetheart, I had to tell you because I knew I was in
for a little trouble, but there's no need of your knowing any more than
this about it. It was just an accident--nobody's fault. The blamed
electric lights went off--for not over ten seconds, but it was the wrong
ten seconds. I didn't even know I was scratched till the thing began to
set up a row. I don't even yet understand how I got it in the palm.
That's unusual."
"Who did it?"
"I'm not going to tell you.
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