A BAD CASE 71 



myself; "all so fat and puffy." I cudgelled my brain 

 for a clue. As I examined the hand in silence to play 

 for time and conceal my ignorance, he went on : 



"What I'm afraid of is blood-poisoning. I couldn't 

 get out to a doctor before a month, and by that 

 time I'll be one-armed or dead. I know which I'd 

 prefer." 



Knowing, at all events, that nothing but evil could 

 come of fear, I said: "Now see here. You can put 

 that clean out of your mind. You never saw blood- 

 poisoning that colour, did you?" 



"That's so," and he seemed intensely relieved. 



While I was thus keeping up an air of omniscience 

 by saying nothing, Major Jarvis came up. 



"Look at this, Jarvis," said I; "isn't it a bad 

 one?" 



"Phew," said the Major, "that's the worst felon I 

 ever saw." 



Like a gleam from heaven came the word felon. 

 That's what it was, a felon or whitlow, and again I 

 breathed freely. Turning to the patient with my 

 most cock-sure professional air, I said: 



"Now see, Y., you needn't worry; you've hurt your 

 finger in rowing, and the injury was deep and has set 

 up a felon. It is not yet headed up enough; as soon 

 as it is I'll lance it, unless it bursts of itself (and in- 

 wardly I prayed it might burst). Can you get any 

 linseed meal or bran?" 



"Afraid not." 



"Well, then, get some clean rags and keep the place 

 covered with them dipped in water as hot as you can 



