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.

"Take a pin," said Emil, in a hurry.

"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 doll's 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
deserves another "Your duds are blowing away, Doctor."

Forgiving the disrespectful word, "duds," the ladies hastily descended,
and, gathering up their wash, retired to the house to fire up the little
stove, and go to ironing.

A passing breath of air shook the old willow, as if it laughed softly
at the childish chatter which went on in the nest, and it had hardly
composed itself when another pair of birds alighted for a confidential
twitter.

"Now, I'll tell you the secret," began Tommy, who was "swellin' wisibly"
with the importance of his news.

"Tell away," answered Nat, wishing he had brought his fiddle, it was so
shady and quiet here