water he could find.
She yielded herself to his touch as a baby, and he bathed away the blood
and bandaged the ugly, ragged wound. He finished his surgery by lapping
the torn sleeve over the cloth and binding it down with a piece of
twine, with the Angel's help about the knots.

Freckles worked with trembling fingers and a face tense with
earnestness.

"Is it feeling any better?" he asked.

"Oh, it's well now!" cried the Angel. "It doesn't hurt at all, any
more."

"I'm mighty glad," said Freckles. "But you had best go and be having
your doctor fix it right; the minute you get home."

"Oh, bother! A little scratch like that!" jeered the Angel. "My blood is
perfectly pure. It will heal in three days."

"It's cut cruel deep. It might be making a scar," faltered Freckles, his
eyes on the ground. "'Twould--'twould be an awful pity. A doctor might
know something to prevent it."

"Why, I never thought of that!" exclaimed the Angel.

"I noticed you didn't," said Freckles softly. "I don't know much about
it, but it seems as if most girls would."

The Angel thought intently, while Freckles still knelt beside her.
Suddenly she gave herself an impatient little shake, lifted her glorious
eyes full to his, and the smile that swept her sweet, young face was the
loveliest thing that Freckles ever had seen.

"Don't let's bother about it," she proposed, with the faintest hint of
a confiding gesture toward him. "It won't make a scar. Why, it couldn't,
when you have dressed it so nicely."

The velvety touch of her warm arm was tingling in Freckles' fingertips.
Dainty lace and fine white ribbon peeped through her torn dress. There
were beautiful rings on her fingers. Every article she wore was of
the finest material and in excellent taste. There was the trembling
Limberlost guard in his coarse clothing, with his cotton rags and
his old pail of swamp water. Freckles was sufficiently accustomed to
contrasts to notice them, and sufficiently fine to be hurt by them
always.

He lifted his eyes with a shadowy pain in them to hers, and found them
of serene, unconscious purity. What she had said was straight from a
kind, untainted, young heart. She meant every word of it. Freckles' soul
sickened. He scarcely knew whether he could muster strength to stand.

"We must go and hunt for the carriage," said the Angel, rising.

In instant alarm for her, Freckles sprang up, grasped the cudgel, and
led the way, sharply watching every step.