the street, growing
bigger every minute, so Danny's foot is beginning to swell and get red
and hot.

"Now, if we leave the sliver alone, the foot will get it out its own
way, but it will take a long time. The foot will get redder, hotter,
sorer. It will be very stiff, and Danny will not be able to walk on
it. And even after the sliver works out, it will take quite a while
to heal, and there may be an ugly mark here for a long time. Still,
that's one way to get rid of slivers.

"There's another way. It is to let me cut the skin with this sharp
knife--sharp like a razor-blade--and then take these little tweezers,
catch the end of the sliver, and give one quick jerk. Then we'll
put your foot in the warm water and let all the blood that has been
gathering to see what was wrong, run away, and then we'll put on
something nice and soft, and some absorbent cotton, and make a fine
bandage, and about tomorrow it will be as good as the other one.

"Which way will we do it, Danny?"

Danny had followed every word of the story, his eyes meeting the
doctor's calmly.

"Which way, Danny?" the doctor repeated.

Danny buried his head in the doctor's shoulder, and said one word:

"Jerk!"

In a few minutes it was all over, and Danny, looking a little pale,
with his foot resting on a pillow, was taken for a ride in the new
wheelbarrow, well padded with fresh hay by his thoroughly concerned
and solicitous young brothers. Danny, knowing the transitory nature of
his popularity, was not too overcome by his recent operation to accept
promptly the presents his brothers offered, and did so with a sweetly
wan and patient smile which kindled a noble rivalry in the matter of
gifts. Patsey, now very repentant, brought his catapult, Bugsey his
alleys, his loveliest "pure," and the recumbent lamb set in a ball of
clear glass; Tommy surrendered his pair of knobbies. Their mother,
watching the procession leaving the gate, was moved almost to tears by
these expressions of brotherly love.

"They fight and squabble and jander at each other, but when trouble
comes, they cling together. That's what the psalmist means when he
says 'A brother is born for adversity.' It's the day of trouble that
proves what your own mean to you."

Mary and her mother were at the kitchen door, having come out to get
the patient properly started for his ride.

"I never knew it meant that, ma," said Mary, "but that's a nice
meaning anyway."

She looked into the livin